Page 48 of When Stars Collide
If you can’t beat them.
In not quite as smooth a fashion as Jo, I chugged the rest of my drink, coughing as I set the glass down on the table. The music being played throughout the club consisted of a techno remix of what was otherwise a slow song, perfect for the venue and for those with any semblance if rhythm. I was not one of those people, but I could fake it. With what little movement my dress would allow, I pulled from memory the moves I used in my early twenties, mainly consisting of swaying my hips and legs to the beat of the music while moving my top half just enough to keep myself from looking too awkward. Of course, I’d never really broken out any dance moves while sober before, so in reality, I wasn’t entirely sure what my moves really looked like, nor did I particularly care.
A few minutes into it, I’d managed to work up a pretty decent sweat, lost in the sea of bodies swirling around me. Strangely, it was kind of cathartic, allowing myself to move as freely as I pleased without a care in the world, like I was purging my body of all worries. Unfortunately, though, as with all good things, some douchebag had to come along and ruin it all.
He came up from behind me, his body only lightly grazing mine at first, until said graze turned into a full-on ass grab.
“If I wanted your hand on my ass, I would have put it there,” I said over my shoulder to the muscular, Abercrombie-wannabe model standing behind me.
“Oh, come on, baby, that dress is giving me all the permission I need.”
“Touch me again, and you’ll be giving my knee permission to ram itself straight into your crotch.”
“Feisty. I like that.” Before I could stop him, Mr. Popped Collar grabbed me tightly, his sheer size rendering me powerless against him while one of his hands made its way down my body to my hip. “You have some moves there. How about you show me what else you can do?” He smashed his pelvis against my body when he spoke, igniting a mixture of fear and absolute rage inside of me.
“Let me go!” I struggled until I was able to free my arms enough to try to push him away from me. Except, shoving him was like trying to move a brick wall. He stood steadfast, and the best I could do was jar him enough for him to loosen his grip on me.“Son of a bitch. What is wrong with you?”
It quickly became apparent that had been the wrong thing to say to him, because as soon as his thick skull processed it, some internal switch flipped inside of his brain, changing his demeanor from an aggressive but playful Neanderthal, to an aggressive and psychotic one.
“What did you say to me, bitch?” His lightning-fast hand darted out and grabbed me by the forearm. Large enough for his fingers to completely wrap themselves around my arm, his hand was like a vice. He must have realized that, too, as he began squeezing my arm with such force that I thought he may succeed in snapping it in two.
“Let me go, you’re hurting me.”
“Not until you give me that dance I asked you for.”
“The lady said to let her go, so I think you’d better do what she asked you.”
Phineas?
I looked behind my shoulder, where my eyes met those of Phineas’s, who’d appeared from out of nowhere. He held out his hand to me, and I took it with a grateful smile, believing that would be the end of everything. Unfortunately, I was sorely mistaken.
When finding himself on the losing end, the middle figure on the human evolutionary chart thought it wise to make one last ditch effort to assert himself by grabbing me by my other arm. “No one asked you for your opinion,” he growled at Phineas.
The moment my assailant’s hand grabbed my arm again, Phineas’s demeanor completely changed. His eyes grew dark, his brow furrowed. He even seemed to stand taller, which was pretty impressive considering he was already taller than most of the other men in the club. In short, something told me there would be fireworks in a matter of seconds.
“Fine, then it won’t be my opinion you get.”
Phineas ended his statement with his fist connecting with the man’s once pretty face with such bone-crunching force I couldn’t help but cringe despite my desire to cheer him on. Holding his nose, the man stumbled backwards, trying to remain upright until his feet failed him andhe fell to the floor.
“Mena,” Phineas said my name, snapping me back to reality. I looked up at him, noticing he was standing only mere inches from me, “I think we’d better get out of here.”
“And I think you should submit your application to the UFC ASAP.”
“Come on.” He led me off the dance floor to a dimmer part of the club, away from the steadily building commotion behind us. “Are you injured?” he asked, inspecting my arms.
“I’m fine,” I answered, looking down at my arm. “It’s just a little red. I’ll probably have a bruise, but not much else.”
In that moment, we both became acutely aware of our still-entwined hands. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, promptly pulling his hand away from mine.
“For what? Saving me from being accosted by that barbarian over there?” I shuddered at the thought of his hands roaming over my body. My veins suddenly felt like ice water was being pumped through them instead of blood. Was this what going into shock felt like?
“Mena, you’re shaking.” Concerned, Phineas shrugged off his suit coat and threw it over my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
“O-Okay.”
“Mena!” Jo appeared from the crowd. “Are you okay? I tried to get to you, but it’s hard to part a sea of people dry humping on the dance floor. As luck would have it, I am no Noah.” She looked from me to Phineas and back again.
“Jo, this is Phineas. Phineas, my roommate, Jo.”
