He doesn’t. He just drives. When we get out at the valet station, though, dread is visible in his eyes.
“C’mon.” I grab his bicep. “It’ll be fun.”
He pulls out of my grasp and stares me down. “This place is small and crowded. If I tell you to move or get behind me or that we need to leave—”
“I’ll listen. Promise.” I bat my lashes at him, but he is not fazed.
He takesmybicep inhisgrasp, which feels altogether different, and casually walks to the front of the line outside. He leans in and tells the bouncer something. The two intimidating men laugh—at myself and my friends?—and we’re ushered in. The grumbling of the patrons we just cut in line fade away as we walk in.
Okay. Val was correct. It is loud, strobing, and smelly in here. But Google maps was also right. The dance floor is full, even though it’s only ten.
We make our way to the bar, but Nate steps up beside us.
“Closed bottles that I open. All of you,” he commands over the noise. We nod and get light beers. He opens them on the edge of the bar counter top. My mouth waters, not at the beer, but at the way his bulky fingers move. At the way his arms flex.
“Okay, Sally, you wanted to dance, let’s dance,” Val yells at me.
“Yeah, I would like a Nate for myself, and Val needs the smoking hot female equivalent!” Mal smiles.
“I doubt any of us will find someone suitable in a place like this.” Val frowns but Mal just shoves her playfully.
We start moving from the far wall to the dance floor with our drinks. Nate doesn’t disappear this time. He’s behind me, and not far. We get to the edge of the lit square just as the song changes. The EDM bass drop effect hits and the crowd erupts.
And Nate pulls me into him.
Just in time to move out of the way of a group of guys bounding by, yelling at a friend in the middle of the crowd.
His hand is splayed wide, hot, and firm across my entire exposed stomach.
I’m on fire.
His woodsy cologne. His massive, inked forearm wraps around me like a cage. His hard body touches mine along my entire spine and ass.
I sink back into him and move to put my hand over his, but he lets go. I turn to face him before I can stop myself. He’s glaring at the guys who almost ran me over. Mal and Val have moved into the crowd, cheering and dancing with their drinks raised.
“Nate?” I yell up at him.
He looks down and locks his eyes onto mine. They’re angry, or maybe concerned.
I know I shouldn’t ask but I’ve had too much alcohol to keep the words from coming out. “Dance with me?”
He lowers his chin, staring me down in a way that feels like he’s scolding me. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Then I’m going to dance with someone else,” I warn, though it comes out like a question.
“Go for it.” His expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t seem angry or jealous. Only irritated that he has to be here, watching me.
Before I can get out onto the floor, the girls are back demanding shots.
Nate allows it, as long as he watches them pour from a new bottle. The bartender does not love us. Hopefully she will when I leave her tip later.
After we get our tequila down, we go to the dance floor. And it’s fun. It’s sweaty and loud but I feel free with the girls, jumping and swaying together.
Finally, after multiple songs, a guy comes up to me. He’s kind of cute. But he looks over my shoulder and then backs off. I turn to see what Nate did or said to the guy, but he’s just back in the shadows, glancing around.
The same thing happens twice more. At one point, a woman checks me out. She seems familiar. I catch her eye and smile, thinking I can possibly guide her over to Val, but she gets spooked, too, almost running away.
Mal and her sister get more shots, but I hold off. I dance by myself, eyeing any guy who passes, but it’s as if they don’t even see me. And neither does Nate. At least, not when I look at him. His eyes are always scanning everywhere else, the exits, the crowd, the balcony above.