Page 4 of Dancing Diva
“I’m fine,” I say, trying not to show the sensation of fluttering in my stomach on my face.
“Do you have someone to take care of you?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “They all left me. I’m all alone.”
Concern creases in his expression, and he runs his hand over the back of his neck. “They?”
“My friends—” I start to say but remember that I’m not actually friends with any of them. “The women I came with.”
I study him as he looks around. My gut twists again when I start to think that it looks like he’s trying to find an excuse to leave me standing against the outside wall of the club.
“I’m fine,” I lie, wanting to give him an out. Just because I feel a connection doesn’t mean he does. “I can take care of myself.”
“Seeing as your swaying as you try to persuade me that you’re fine isn’t exactly selling your argument. You can’t be left on your own.”
“I’m not a child.” I straighten, fully aware that I might sound like one at the moment.
“Never said you were.” He turns to glance back over his shoulder, and we both watch as more cop cars show up.
Uneasiness hits me like a punch to the gut. None of the girls may have cared that they left me behind, but I can’t help but worry if they are okay.
No one around seems to know what’s going on. Some people around us are saying that it was a drug raid, while others are saying that it was a gas leak in the building. I search the faces of all the women walking by, hoping to see someone from the bridal party, but I don't recognize anyone.
I’m about to open my mouth to tell him that I will find my way back to the hotel on my own when my stomach rolls, and I'm barely able to turn to the side of us and puke up all the tequila shots that have been warring with my body since I drank them.
ADAM
I reach down to hold back Claire's hair as her body wretches. The few people standing nearby groan in disgust and move to get away from us. But it's a fair assessment that anyone of them has been in this situation before. It's practically a rite of passage to puke in public after an evening of drinking.
“Do you feel better now?” I ask, patting her back.
She doesn’t say anything at first, and we both wait to see if anything else is going to come up.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks, still hunched over.
“What do you mean?”
She turns to look up at me and tries to wipe at the smudged mascara around her eyes. “I don’t even know your name. And you’ve come to my rescue a few times already this evening.”
“I’m Adam.” I hold out my hand to her. She looks down at it for a moment before taking it.
Her skin is so soft and delicate that I wonder what her skin feels like in other places.
"I'd say it was nice to meet you, but this roller coaster we've been riding since we met hasn't been the fun adventure I was looking for."
“What adventure were you looking for?”
“I wanted a night that I could look back on and say that I really lived.”
“I think that result could vary wildly by each person you ask.” I shrug. “But so far, you’ve single handily drank your weight in shots.” She makes a face at me, but I don’t stop. “Danced on top of a table, threw a stranger's phone into a crowd of people, left a club as it was raided by police, and puked in front of a stranger. I don't think anyone is going to argue that tonight you aren't living."
“I imagined more of aRoman Holidayscenario when I pictured this evening,” I say.
“Well, I’m no expert on Audrey Hepburn movies, but unless you are a princess here in disguise, that scenario really wasn’t going to work for you.”
Her eyes light up when she realizes I understand her reference. Thank you, Eva, for refusing to give up control of the remote and making me watch old movies instead of watching the Dodgers as I wanted.
“Look, I know tonight isn’t going how you planned. And I don’t know what’s going on with your friends to leave you, but I was going to head over to a little diner a few blocks away. I think you should come with me and get something in your stomach.”
