Chapter 7

7

L IZ

"Oh… How I didn't need to know that."

The words fall from my lips, little nuggets of frustration wrapped in a deep sigh.

Shit.

That was supposed to be a secret thought.

Since it no longer is, Chloe studies me.

"What's the problem, Liz?"

"Nothing. I'm just in a bad mood."

I flick my hand, irritated, before signaling to the bartender and ordering another drink.

Chloe's slides over mine.

"Hey… Take it easy. Maybe we should grab a bite before buying more drinks."

In her bossy, confident way, she lifts her hand and leans over the counter.

"Do you serve food here?"

The bartender reaches under the counter and pulls a menu out.

She takes it without a word.

"What would you like to eat?" she asks while the man pivots to another customer.

"You pick something for me."

She beckons the bartender to her.

"Two cheeseburgers with onion rings, two sides of fries, and pickles. And two beignets."

He nods and collects the menu before Chloe and I pull to the side, out of the patrons' way.

We're both perched on bar stools at the end of the counter when we get our food.

We barely exchange words for the next few minutes as we're busy with our food.

Klaus' story may be in the rearview mirror, but David Moore comes into conversation again.

She tells me how he ended up being James' business partner, but the story goes past my ears as I try to envision the lead man in my book being someone like him.

Unfortunately, my muse is a petulant child with her lower lip stuck out, her arms crossed over her chest, and her back half turned to me.

Things will only get worse when I have my laptop in front of me.

David Moore will never be my lead man.

It was easy for Rain.

She described what she had lived with him.

Her book read more like a memoir, despite altering parts of the story, using fiction as a literary vessel, and inserting a big disclaimer in her finished product.

"Man, this was good," Chloe says before running a napkin over her mouth and asking for water.

"It was delicious," I say, feeling better.

She orders water for both and snaps her gaze over her shoulder.

"Speak of the devil," she says. "All that talk about him might've summoned him here."

She tilts her head to the side, pointing to someone behind me.

"The boss is here," she says.

Smiling, she chugs down water, gauging my reaction.

I smoothly shift in my seat.

Accompanied by a woman, David Moore talks to a man who can only be the club manager.They are not far from us.

The woman's long dark hair almost touches her perky rear. She wears a skintight dress and heels.

The club manager nods and paces away while David Moore turns to the woman. Flashing a smile, she tips her face to him, and I finally get to see her better.

She seems comfortable with him––more comfortable than I was when I stood next to him in the coffee shop.

They look good together––if they are together––and the dread I grappled with moments ago while staring at Klaus grips me again.

"You know what? I need another drink," I say, tearing my eyes away from David Moore and signaling to the bartender.

I place the order without asking Chloe if she'd like another drink. The next shot of whiskey goes down my throat like honey.

Warmth embraces my body, and a good feeling soars through me. The alcohol comes with clarity and a stark realization. I need to meet some new people tonight.

I swing my gaze over my shoulder and scan the room.

"I want to dance," I say, sliding off my seat.

Moments later, I get lost in the crowd.

It's much better on the dance floor than next to David Moore, who looks like a million bucks in his black suit and light gray shirt. And the woman eager to seduce him with her head tilted to the side, a playful grin on her face, and a hungry stare that could melt a rock.

"Good luck with that, darling," I say to myself, still observing them.

She might get laid but won't get anything else from him tonight.

I bust some moves, a bit wobbly, with Chloe right behind me, keeping an eye on me.

The crowd moves, and I find myself back where I was––next to the bar.

Inching to the side, I inadvertently brush David's back.He seems oblivious to me while the woman next to him doesn't bat a lash, listening to him, transfixed.

It doesn't even register with him that I'm right behind him.

In the meantime, being the usual sweet self, Chloe shoots her arms in the air, spinning like a drunk pi?ata only a couple of feet away from us.

Before long, the sensory overload makes my surroundings pull away from me and my head spin.

The rhythm pounces through my veins, ringing in my ears, matching the cadence of my breaths.

I lose myself in chaos, my heart pounding, my blood racing, my mind blank as I close my eyes.

Some guy inches closer and grinds his chest against my back, but it's not enough of an event to pull me out of my trance.

Sweat dots my skin, and my legs get sore, yet nothing stops me.

Eventually, the tune ends, and a more mellow song follows. The man behind me uses the opportunity to introduce himself.

His name is Keith.He is a student, not pushy, and well-mannered, yet I've already friend-zoned him.

Not because he's not cute or might not be fun in bed, but because I can't be in a rebound relationship with someone like him––a nice guy who can be a good friend.

Or even a boyfriend––in case I needed one.

He's certainly not someone I want to have a one-night stand with and never talk to again.

The more we chat, the more we slide away from the dance floor, where Chloe dances slowly in the arms of a tall, dark-haired man.

I let her be and retreat to the bar with Keith. We order drinks––a cocktail for me and a beer for him.

I'm doing great, considering the mix of alcohol and food in my stomach. Hopefully, I won't get sick.

The more time we spend together, the more I realize he is exactly what I need in a friend.

We exchange numbers, although neither is ready to say goodbye and leave.

Minutes later, he goes to the restroom while Chloe pulls up next to me.

"How are things?" she asks before ordering another drink.

"Things are fine. Couldn't be better."

Her lips crease into a satisfied smile.

"Is your new friend taking you home?" she asks.

"I don't know, and I don't care. I'll get a cab. Don't worry about me."

She reads my eyes.

"Seriously. Chill. I haven't had that much to drink."

"If you say so."

"Did you meet someone new?" I ask quietly when her drink arrives, and we're alone again.

She looks across the room.

The man she's danced with pushes through a side door.

"Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Mm–hmm. I need to make sure he's not married or has a girlfriend. Men like him are rarely single."

"How are you going to accomplish that?"

"I asked him, and he said no, but you can't be too sure with these things. I'll ask around," she says, amused.

"That's your method?"

She laughs.

"You'd be amazed how many things I learned just by chatting people up."

I ponder for a moment.

"What makes you so suspicious of him?'

"I don't know. The fact that he is older than me and sexy as fuck."

"How much older?"

"Late thirties?"

"Oh…"

"What?"

"How old is David Moore?"

She chuckles.

"Girl, you are obsessed with him."

"No, I'm not."

She pulls out her phone again and checks some information.

"It doesn't say. He's probably the same age."

"Wow."

She laughs again.

"You crack me up. What's up with this wow?"

"I didn't realize David Moore was in his late thirties. These men are hot."

In vino veritas.

The truth always surfaces when you drink too much.

Like me.

"You finally admit you have a crush on him."

"I don't have a crush on him. He's just… You know."

She's listening to me, wide-eyed.

"I told you I was doing some research for my book. And he might be my inspiration."

"Mm-hmm. Color me skeptical. He makes you tingle. That's what happened to me when the man I danced with made my panties wet."

"Eww," I say, and we share a chuckle.

I wish we could talk more about her new man, yet Keith heads this way.

Soon after, her new man enters the club and glances around the room, trying to locate her.

She spots him and gives me a gentle tap on my forearm.

"Okay. Wish me luck," she says before leaving a peck on my cheek. "I'll text you. And get home safe."

"I will. You do the same."

We hug before breaking away from each other, and I watch her as she links hands with the man and moves with him to the exit.

The place is still packed as the lights maniacally sweep the floors.

"Are you ready to go home?" Keith asks, and I whip my eyes to him.

"Uh… Not yet. I need to use the restroom."

"Sure. I'll wait."

I give him a small smile and inch closer to the corridor leading to the restrooms.

I make a right, then a left, and then I get lost.

I bite back a curse and try different doors, hoping to find one that opens into a restroom.

They're all locked.

Annoyed, I pace back to the other end of the corridor and swing around the corner without paying much attention when I bump into a hard chest.

The fresh scent of aftershave wraps around me like a muffler when I flick my gaze up.

My eyes rove over the silvery gray shirt and sharp suit encasing David Moore's muscular frame.

His enlarged pupils darken his gaze, yet even so, his eyes glint with excitement in the dimness.

"Oh, you…" he says, slightly amused, with the air of someone who wasn't looking for me. "What are you doing here?"

His gaze dips to my blouse.

The colors are hard to ignore.

"You got lost?" he asks, his eyes coming to my face.

I suck in a short breath.

"I was looking for the restroom. You work here?" I ask casually.

Smiling, he evades my eyes.

"Sometimes."

He pivots slightly and gestures toward the end of the corridor.

"You need to make a left and then a right."

"Uh-huh."

He catches me looking at his mouth when he brings his eyes back to me.

"Got that?"

"Yes, I did," I say, correcting the direction of my stare.

Our eyes stay connected for a moment.

The man looks good despite the iceberg hidden in his soul.His eyes show no emotion. Only slight curiosity and fickle entertainment.

I still don't know whether he entered that coffee shop and made a fuss about his coffee on purpose that day or he was just his usual obnoxious self.

Even now, I don't know whether he was marching down the corridor with urgent business or was looking for me.

Although, this is quite presumptuous of me.

A man like him would probably not even remember he walked into a club with that brunette, let alone bother to find me.

I finally open my mouth and speak.

"Thank you," I say, my gaze slanted down, taking inventory of his body in one fell swoop.

Sculpted muscles push against his suit, and the things I know about him from Rain's book make me blush a little.

She spared no detail in her writings––no wonder it's her best-selling book.

The things he did to her stir a trickle of excitement in those parts of me that haven't been touched in a while.

I better leave.

He is no boyfriend material.

And not even hookup material.

I need to stay away from him.

I like my soul whole.

There have been enough inept men who have stepped onto my heart and crushed it. I don't need a real man to do that to me unless I want to never be able to recover.

"Good night," I say and step away from him.