Page 1 of The Butterfly Effect
Before I even took theshot, the distinct earthy, semisweet scent of the tequila in my right hand made my mouth water. In my left hand was a lime. I raised the shot glass before clearing my throat theatrically and repeating a toast I have made regularly since college while my friends rolled their eyes. “Cheers to the folks at the back of the bar, and to the crowd in the middle, but let’s raise this glass for the bartenders, and hope they only judge us a little.”
The sweet liquor burned my throat as I swallowed, and I bit down on the lime, sucking the juice from its flesh. Andy let out a “woo-hoo” and slammed the glass back down on the table. Her bright-red hair flipped over her shoulder and her long bangs fell in her face when she nodded. “I could use another one of those! Maybe without the toast this time.”
I was used to catching grief for it, but I’d thought it was so clever the first time I heard it. It started out as a joke and quickly became tradition for me to say it every time we went out drinking. It also became tradition for them to groan about it each time. I wiped my hand along the hem of my favorite little black dress, the one that always made me feel sexy. I loved the way it was cut low enough to show ample cleavage, but flowed with the curves of my body. It was the best spur-of-the-moment purchase I’d ever made, and I’ve worn it out at least once a month since I bought it.
Andy nudged me with a laugh, and I smiled. We’d met in college when we both tried out for and made the University of Michigan dance team. There was never a doubt when we went out that she could dance. Andy was always the first to start dancing at the table, and the one who would inevitably drag us all out to the dance floor after a couple of shots. She made her way up to the bar, swaying her hips with the bass-filled music and unable to resist stopping to dance on the way. Her curves looked even better in the tight red dress she wore, its mid-thigh cut lengthening her legs. With the way the dress brought out her red hair, it was no surprise she turned heads.
“You really are such a loser, Jules!” Katie chuckled across the table from me. She had been my best friend since my senior year of high school when her family moved a couple of houses down from mine and my mom made me walk to school with the new girl. We became like sisters in a matter of days, and by Christmas break, we had already planned our next four years at college together. After I joined the dance team and became friends with Andy, the three of us had become an instant unit. If you saw one of us at any sort of gathering, it was pretty much a guarantee that the others were there too. It had become common knowledge.
“Well, sure, but you love me anyway.” I blew her a kiss, and her laugh could be heard above the music. She was an intoxicating presence anywhere she went, and in the flowy blue jumpsuit she wore, it was no different. People around the bar gazed at my best friend, locking on the way her outfit bunched at her thin waist and accented her large chest. Katie was beautiful in the way other women longed to be—porcelain skin, generous curves, and a smile to stop traffic.
I looked up as Andy sauntered back to the table with three more full shot glasses as her dress slid up her thighs. Before she set them down, Katie eagerly reached for one. Andy passed me another, and I reached for a lime in the bowl in front of me. I never used the salt, but I couldn’t take a shot of tequila without a lime.
“Cheers, bitches!” Katie tossed her dark-brown hair over her shoulder and downed her shot, with Andy and me following suit. Warmth traveled down my throat and settled in my stomach as a comfortable smile spread across my face. It had been a long week, and Katie felt the same way. We were on the same team at work, and every day this week had been like another Monday. “And thank goodness this week of hell is over, right, Jules?”
“Seriously. This new CEO may as well be the king of England with what we’re doing to get ready for him.” I paused, licking the lime juice from my fingers. “He’d better be as great as they seem to think he is.”
“Doubtful. They haven’t even told us his name, so I haven’t been able to adequately Facebook stalk him.” Katie tilted her head to the side and lifted one eyebrow. She was the skeptical friend, but in this case, I was worried I agreed with her. If you gave the woman a name, she’d have a full history worked up for you in an hour, including what they wore to their second cousin’s wedding eight years ago.
“Okay, okay. No work talk.Pleeease. It’s Saturday night. We’re supposed to be havingfun!” Andy pulled us from our pouting with her cheery voice. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to walk up to that bar. We’re going to take another shot. And then we’re going to go out to that dance floor and shake our asses and hopethosegood-looking men over there enjoy the show.” She pointed and didn’t wait for our response before she turned and marched towards the bar. Katie and I looked at each other, both letting out a mix between a cackle and a sigh, and took off behind her.
The wooden bar was sticky under my bare arms when I leaned against it. No matter how nice the building was, the counters were always sticky. Anthony’s was one of the better clubs in town, one you would never think about going to in college, especially when you could get two-for-one beers at the pub down the street. That was why we came here; everyone was in their late twenties or thirties.
I leaned back from the counter, and we took our shots, the warmth in my belly forming a blush on my chest. I instinctively brushed my fingers across my collarbone, momentarily feeling self-conscious. It had been over a year since I’d been with anyone, and the quick shots of liquor were stirring up arousal and need.
I scanned the crowd and settled on the small group of guys Andy had pointed out, wetting my lips with my tongue. My friends turned from the bar, and we made our way to the floor. Dancing white and purple lights flashed on the ceiling from the DJ booth in the corner, and we settled into the small crowd like it was a routine. A Nelly song from the early 2000s played from the speakers surrounding us, and the vibrant beat and bass line had taken control of my movements. Music always did that to me.
I ran my hands up my sides, bending my knees slightly and swinging my hips with the rhythm of the song. I curled my body and let my ash-blonde hair land messily over my shoulder when I turned my head. It was the first time in a few months I had really let go.
When I turned around to face my friends again, two of the men from the group we had looked at earlier were walking our way. Who were they were coming for? I hoped it wasn’t me because neither really looked like they were my type, and I quickly excused myself and walked back to the bar.
I was relieved neither followed me, but two other guys from their group made their way to the bar where I stood. One had piercing green eyes and dark-black hair, with tattoos on his neck that must have climbed up his chest. I met his eyes and lightly bit my bottom lip, imagining exactly what he might look like with his shirt off. Unlike his friends, he wasdefinitelymy type. I liked broody guys, and much to my mother’s dismay, the more tattoos they had, the more I liked them.
They stood on either side of me, the show-stopping green-eyed guy smiling. “Hey.”
“Uh, hi,” I said, suddenly a woman of very few words. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little.
He laughed. “I’m Devin.” His voice was low and carried well over the music. “This is my friend Dan.”
“Devin and Dan, huh? I’m Jules.”
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, already grabbing the attention of the bartender. “What are you having?”
“I’ll take a tequila and soda, please. With lime.” If there was one thing I never did, it was turn down a free drink from a desperate man at the bar, and I couldn’t help but hope Devin would offer me more than just a free drink. A small tingling heat grew in my stomach.
Devin leaned against the counter, both of us standing around the same stool. He smelled like cigarettes and evergreen, and I considered burying my face in his neck to inhale more deeply.
“So what do you do, Jules?” His voice rolled off his tongue, and I turned to face him. Dan stood behind my shoulder and leaned against the bar.
“I’m a project manager for a digital marketing firm.” He just nodded. Did he want me to go into detail? Most men at the bar didn’t really care about your career.
The bartender set glasses down next to us, but I didn’t look away from Devin’s eyes. He held my gaze and narrowed his eyes slightly, and I imagined what it would be like to kiss him.
“That sounds pretty cool,” he said. Lifting his hand to grab the drink next to me on the bar, he stood closer. His chest was muscular, and when it pressed against mine, a shiver rolled through me.
“Thank you. I like it.” His friend had taken his drink and walked away, and the stool he had been standing in front of was now occupied by an angry man in a navy-blue suit and a narrow white tie. What could he possibly be so angry about?
I turned back to the striking man as he reached for his drink and slid mine to me. “Cheers.” He tilted his glass to me and then to his lips.
