Page 73 of Fake Dating Adrian Hunter
“At least do this one shot.”
“Ugh, fine.One.” I shoot back what I’ve just realized is pure vodka. It goes straight to my head, and I bend over, coughing and spluttering at the unexpected sharp taste.
“That’s it. Woo!” Tory cheers. “Keep drinking.”
Through the strobe lights, I catch a collage of images of my sister throwing her head back to swallow another shot. She jumps onto her chair and starts dancing, then bends down and gives Phoebe a sloppy kiss. I can’t help but laugh, never having seen Tory like this.
Before I can cheer her on, a male and female stripper start giving me a lap dance. I’ve got so many boobs and dicks rubbing up against my face that I can’t tell which way is up or down. It’s between the male stripper’s legs that I get a glimpse of Darius and Zac at the bar, the two of them laughing their asses off as they watch me. My eyes search for Adrian, but cock and balls fall back in front of my face, blocking my view. The only thing that would make this situation funnier is if Darius and Zac were right here beside me and we were experiencing this moment together.
I give into Tory’s orders, grab another two shots off the passing waiter’s tray and shoot them back, then run over to the bar and grab Darius and Zac, tugging them toward the dance floor.
“I’m pretty sure we’ll get chlamydia if we get too close to the strippers,” Darius objects. “There’s a strong chance you already have it.”
“I’m married,” Zac adds. “I can’t dance with strippers.”
I pull out my only bargaining chip. “We’ll stay away from the strippers. Let’s dance and have fun. You need some fun, Zac. And, Darius, you better sayyesor else I’m firing you.”
They both grin, giving in to me. Darius grabs the two fishbowls. “All right, but we’re taking these beauties onto the dance floor for the three of us to finish.”
I sip on one of the fishbowls as my friends follow me onto the dance floor. We keep clear of the bridal party and strippers and join in with the rest of the crowd, dancing like we’re kids again without a care of how ridiculous our moves are. And my God, it’s so good to see Zac be carefree for once. Wherever Adrian is, I hope he’s watching me have fun without him. I can’t wipe the smile off my face, knowing that I am one hundred percent winning at this jealousy game.
It’s not long before we finish the fishbowls, then do shot after shot until the termsloshedaccurately describes us and everyone else in the venue. I stick to my word—getting drunk is a bad idea—but I’m on bride’s orders, so this is on Tory if everything ends terribly.
At some point among all the dancing, the music gets drowned out by Nia shouting, “Do it! Do it! Do it!” until her words turn into a chant that everyone cheers. Everyone except me and Darius. Zac is the loudest.
I’ve been too swept up in my own dancing to take notice of anything else, and it only dawns on me now where I am—in the middle of a circle with Darius, surrounded by people as if we’re about to enter a dance-off.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
All of a sudden, Latin music starts playing and people are cheering even louder. “Do it! Do it!”
“Darius, I love you!” Nia’s voice is audible over everyone else’s. “Do your dance with Verena!”
It takes us a moment, but we catch onto what’s happening here and both break out in laughter.
Darius holds his hand out to me. “You wanna dance? He’s watching.”
My eyes perk up at that proposition, to think that Adrian is out there somewhere in the crowd with that same bitter expression he had when Darius answered the door in his towel. Regardless of that thought, Darius knows I won’t turn him down. Any chance I get to dance with him, I take, even if our technique will be messy with all the alcohol in our systems. Latin dancing with each other is our happy place. He introduced it to me years ago when we first met. It’s a full artistic expression of sex and passion, yet without any pressure for us to hook up afterward since there’s no physical attraction.
I place my hand in Darius’. He pulls me to him so that our bodies are flush with each other, sending the circle around us wild. His forehead rests on mine as his hands slide down the curves of my breasts and hips. Darius slowly sinks down, until he’s crouching in front of me and running fingers up my thighs, gazing into my eyes like a man infatuated by his woman. I pull him up by the collar as if I’m about to kiss him, our lips lingering in front of each other, then the beat takes off and the two of us are swaying our hips against each other, our bodies singing the dance of love and sensuality.
It’s a surprise that we’re able to pull off the routine so well, being this drunk, and that we get cheers every time Darius twirls me around, when he dips me backward, and when he lifts me off the ground.
“So,” I say to him during a part of the dance where we’re face to face, “you’re the secret to all of my success. I’m a social pariah among these people for days, then the moment you turn up, they all start cheering for us to dance.”
“Which means you better not fire me.” He twirls me out wide again.
I come back into him, laughing, enjoying myself in this blissful daze of intoxication, until my eyes land on Adrian in the distance. My body stops moving at what I see. There’s no rhythm left in my soul and certainly no more giggly drunk girl. All I am is a cold and bitter entity with a storm cloud of jealousy hanging over my head. This feeling is worse than anything I’ve ever felt when catching Adrian and Isabelle together, or whenever he mentions her name in front of me. It’s worse than the betrayal when I discovered Jake was cheating on me, or that Adrian had asked me to the school dance as a joke and laughed with all of his friends about it.
There’s no sense of tears threatening to appear. It’s violence that I feel as I watch Adrian and Jannah standing together on the outskirts of the cocktail lounge, laughing over a drink together.
She’s in her bikini again, at this hour of the night, and I have to wonder if the girl even owns a set of proper clothes.
She’s laughing, batting her lashes at Adrian, and—
My chest burns with hate when Jannah reaches out to touch Adrian’s arm.
What the hell does she think she’s doing? What the hell does Adrian thinkhe’sdoing withher? These are probably all the same techniques she used on Jake when he was with me.
