Page 5 of Payback
BY THE TIMEIGETto my hotel room, I can’t get in the shower fast enough. I need to wash off the flight, that car ride, and the memories of Ghost Penis railing my stepsister that fluttered to the front of my mind after retelling it all to Tanner and Booker. I need the flicker of tears I felt earlier to go the hell away. Crying over what’s happened is not what this trip is about. This trip isn’t even about attending my aunt Fiona’s second wedding. She’s the much younger sister of my father and uncle Vaughn, but she lived in Japan until recently, so I don’t even know her that well.
This trip is about revenge sex. Something to completely obliterate any memory I have of Rosalie and Ghost Penis forever.
An hour and twenty minutes later, I’ve consumed two vodka Red Bulls and dressed myself in my sexiest little black dress with scandalous lingerie underneath. My blonde curls are loose down my back, and I slick on a matte red lipstick to go along with my dramatic makeup. I’m ready to meet my date for the evening, but I have one more thing to do. Before leaving my hotel room, I purposely leave my phone propped by the television behind a plant. Then I make my way downstairs to the hotel bar where Vi planned for us to meet.
It takes all my strength not to skip into the bar because I feel like a million-dollar whore in my platform heels and I’m ready to get this show on the road. But skipping in this outfit wouldn’t quite fit.
Skipping is an issue for me. Not an issue as in I can’t do it. I’m an exceptional skipper. It’s an issue in the sense that sometimes I don’t know when I’m doing it, and I don’t just do it when I’m happy. Sometimes I skip when I’m anxious or stressed. It’s a nervous tic that I’ve had my entire life, but it’s a lot less adorable on a twenty-four-year-old than it is on a child.
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves like a normal, non-skipping adult. Dressing up like this and meeting strange men in bars isn’t how I’ve spent much of my time the past few years. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a girlie-girl and I like wearing heels and glamming up. But it’s an unnerving feeling to trust that my cousin can pick someone whom I’ll find sexually attractive. Then again, tonight isn’t about me. It’s about a fantasy. A plan. An escape from the shitty reality that is my life. So I make the decision to embrace this feeling and let it fuel my inner skipping self.
Vi said my date will know who I am, which freaks me out because that means he’s most likely seen a photo of me. But Vi insisted I be surprised, so this is me trusting my cousin.
Upon entering the bar, my eyes collide with a tall, handsome man who is standing next to a stool in a custom suit that hugs his muscles a bit too tightly. His skin is bronze and his hair is nearly black. He looks like a melting pot of different cultures that I can’t quite decipher, but everything about him makes my mouth water. Even the way he stands with his shoulders relaxed and his hands resting inside of his pockets like it’s perfectly normal for him to casually park himself in a bar like some GQ fitness model.
Just when I begin inwardly cursing Vi for not setting me up with someone as sexy and confident as him, he turns and begins walking toward me. I glance over my shoulder to ensure that I’m not in the middle of one of those mortifying moments when you think someone’s waving to you so you wave back, only to discover they were waving to the person behind you. Good-god, that’s embarrassing.
When the coast is clear, I turn back to find the man is now only two feet away from me. His light brown eyes are shockingly dazzling. They look like those filters you can apply to brighten eyes on a photo, but he is clearly without a filter right in front of me. His full lips look so soft and pliable that I want to reach out and squeeze them to see if they would melt like caramel.
“Are you Alice?” he asks in a warm, husky voice that makes my throat close up.
I swallow hard and nod. “I go by Allie.”
He half smiles and his eyes drift down my body briefly before returning to my gaze. “I’m Roan DeWalt. And you, Allie…” he laughs softly and the sound makes my vagina do a Kegel. “You were seriously worth the wait.”
I lick my lips and recover from my mini vagina spasm while noting his slight accent. “It’s nice to meet you, Roan. Where are you from?”
His smirk reaches his eyes. “Well, I was born in England, but I grew up in South Africa…Cape Town. Ever been?”
I shake my head regretfully. “No, I haven’t.”But if men look like this in South Africa, I definitely need to plan a visit.
“Do we have time for a drink?” he asks, showing zero irritation over my tardiness.
“A quick one, yes.”
He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the spot where he was standing. I noticed he hadn’t ordered a drink for himself while he waited. I don’t know why exactly, but I like that.
Drinks are ordered and I perch on the edge of the stool, sipping my vodka soda and feeling butterflies for the first time in…Well, perhaps my lifetime. I was attracted to Ghost Penis because of his confidence, but I’ve completely blocked it out if I ever felt this way when I met him. Maybe it’s the vodka.
My eyes drift down to Roan’s thighs stretched out wide and long as he sits on the barstool. They are so thick, they look like they might rip the seam of his tailored pants. He probably has to get special pants to fit around his muscular legs—casualty of the job.
“You play soc—um, football, right?” I ask and note that my voice has an odd rasp to it that I’ve never heard before. Maybe I’m taking this fantasy too seriously?Dial it back, Allie. No need to go allPretty Womanon him.
Roan’s smile grows, revealing stunningly white teeth. “We call it soccer in South Africa.” He winks and adds, “But I’m surprised to hear you slip. People are crazy about calling it football here. I thought Vi said you are originally from England?”
I nod. “Originally, yes. I moved to Chicago with my dad when I was eight, so I’ve lived in the States much longer than I did here. But I was born here, so in my heart I’m still an English rose.”
“With an American accent.” He leans into me with a playful smile, and the smell of his cologne is heavenly.
I return his smile. “When I was with Tanner and Booker earlier, they were giving me crap about losing my accent.”
His brows lift curiously. “Tanner and Booker would be interesting cousins to have I’d say.”
“Yes indeed.” I exhale heavily because that claim is a cross to bear in and of itself. “I’m stuck with them by blood I’m afraid.”
“Well, because of that, I’ll be a perfect gentleman tonight.” He smiles kindly.
“What do you mean?” I ask with a frown.
