I thought of every bad scenario—someone knowing he was Izzy’s dad, seeing us put on a display of affection in public or quite possibly catching us making googly eyes at one another. That person would then inform Izzy or someone that knew her, leaving us both fucked and left to drown.
But then I thought of the good.
I could drink with him… again.
I could have a good time with him beneath dim lights. Dane’s, a place where no one worried about what anyone else was doing. A place where alcoholics could drink without limits and women didn’t have to worry about being harassed because the alcoholics cared more for the bottles than various amounts of ass flouncing around.
I could smell him again… taste him again… hold him again.
There were way too many possibilities, and although I had those bad scenarios in the back of my mind, nothing could top the excitement I felt coursing through me when I thought of him.
I was ready. I needed to see Theo.
And I needed him immediately, in every way possible.
Eleven
Dane’s was just like how it used to be during my worst times—dim lights, a weird peanut smell, and annoying alternative music that was, fortunately, easy to ignore with the flat screens plastered on every cement wall, streaming ESPN. The waitresses still dressed like they had no mother to raise them. Short leather skirts or short black shorts and tank tops that showcased a large pair of tits.
I picked up the whiskey Marcel slid across the bar, giving him a quick bob of my head as I lifted the glass to my lips. He returned the gesture before turning his back to me with a rag and a wet glass in hand, clearing it of soap and droplets.
After taking a long sip, allowing the burn to further relax me, I flicked my wrist, checking the time. It was nearing midnight. I thought for sure she’d make an appearance before now, but I guess I was wrong.
My leg bounced, my shoe pressing into the metal bar of the chair.
I looked around, thinking maybe she was somewhere else. Maybe looking for me? Shit, who was I kidding?
She knew better.
Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t show.
We needed to get over each other. Though I hated rejection and being stood up, I could understand a no-show. And the worst part? I couldn’t be upset about it. She was young. I was twenty years older than her. She was in college with her whole life ahead of her, and I’d already established mine. I owned a car shop and had settled my party-going ways a long time ago.
I finished off my third whiskey, and Marcel turned, one of his bushy eyebrows arching. “‘Nother round?”
“Nah.” I pulled the wallet out of my back pocket with the chain attached and flipped it open, sliding two twenties across the counter. “I’m good for the night. Gotta drive. Appreciate it though.”
Marcel accepted the change. “Mmmhmm.”
Standing from the stool, I turned for the exit, the bright neon lights burning my eyes as I staggered toward the door. Before I could reach the handle, the door had already swung open, and a young girl with the ends of her hair dyed pink dashed in, laughing so hard I swear she was about to pop a lung.
“Oh my gosh! This place fucking sucks!” she yelled, loud enough for Marcel to hear. I glanced back. Marcel’s line of sight shifted from the TV screen above him to the girl. He then looked at me. I shrugged, looking forward again. “Damn it, Chloe! Why’d you drag us here?”
Chloe? I wasn’t sure how I made out that name, considering the girl’s speech was horribly slurred. My back straightened, breathing turning shallow as I focused on the other girl that walked through the door. And my fucking god, she looked amazing. Good enough to fucking eat, but maybe just a little too hot to devour right away.
In this moment, as she walked inside with a halter dress that hugged her body, strappy heels, and her hair pinned up, it seemed she was on fucking fire. And for only a millisecond, I couldn’t breathe. I liked this fiery side of her.
Blazing.
Burning.
Untouchable.
If I got too close, I knew she’d burn me. But, like a child, I was mesmerized, dying to cop a feel. Unable to stop staring. Wanting so badly to play with that raging blaze.
Fuck.
Her eyes caught mine when she made it through the door, a guy following behind her. My fists automatically clenched as he pressed his palm on the small of her back and said something to her, but then he hurried for the pink-haired girl. I realized he wasn’t Chloe’s date. He was the crazy girl’s.
Pink Hair and her date went to the bar, ordering a round of drinks from an irritated Marcel. He was never the type to kick anyone out, especially if the kids looked wealthy and ready to drink the night away, and that was exactly what they looked like. Ready to party. Ready to get wasted. Ready to blow all their money on overpriced drinks.
I turned forward again, watching as Chloe stood there, a light smile on her face. Her grey eyes bolted with mine, the sound of a lock clinking in my head, verifying that I would no longer be able to look away from her for the rest of the night.
Her skin looked as smooth as satin beneath the dim lights, her hair probably as soft as silk. It was actually tamed tonight. No wild curls. No hippie style to go along with it. It suited her as well. She had a versatile appeal.
“Hi, Theo,” she murmured, taking a step towards me. “Sorry I’m so late.”
“Nah… it’s all good.” I took a step with her. “Didn’t think you’d show though.”
“Good… that’s exactly what I wanted.” Her cheeks stretched.
“Oh really? And why is that?”
“I wanted to see how long you’d wait.”
I shrugged. “Playing the hard to get game, huh?”
“No not at all,” she teased.
“I just figured you’d made up your mind… chose a different path.”
Her brows narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean.” Her eyes moved quickly from mine, avoiding the subject at all costs. Sighing, she looked from me to the bar, shaking her head at her friends. “Those must be the friends that beat me to the punch, I presume?” I decided to forget about the subject too.
“Yep.”
“Wild,” I chuckled.
“Her name in my phone is actually Wild Child. What a coincidence!”
I glanced over my shoulder. “I can see why.”
She continued a smile, rocking on her heels. To avoid awkwardness I pointed back with my thumb, gesturing towards the counter. “How about we join them? I owe you a drink, right?”
“Oh—no!” She waved a hand. “You don’t have to. I’m DD.”
“DD?” I frowned, confused.
She giggled. “Designated driver.”
“Ohh.” I cracked a half-smile. “I knew that. Shit, one drink won’t kill you. Come on!”
She looked at me and then at the bar. I guess all of the aligned bottles on the shelves felt welcoming because she finally moved forward. “Fine, but sheesh,” Chloe laughed, walking past me and meeting at the far end of the bar. “Come on Mr. Black, you aren’t that old. You should know what DD means.”
I watched her hips swing, throbbing when my last name ran off her lips. I controlled myself, keeping my voice even as I said, “Your generation is a little different than mine.” I followed her to the bar, taking a seat.
“How so?” she questioned.
“Just is. Some of the shit I hear kids say now confuses the fuck out of me.”
Chloe laughed, her eyes shimmering from the dim lighting above. “Like YOLO, thot, and Bye, Felicia?”
“Exactly! What do those even mean?” I gestured for Marcel to come my way and after ordering another drink for myself and allowing her to order her own, she responded.