25. He’s A Runner, He’s A Track Star

The music continues to play in this dimly lit club, and it's like a force that urges me to move and sway along. The vibration buzzes through my skin and snakes into my core. I close my eyes, allowing myself the luxury of drowning in its melody. I'm distantly aware of my hips moving and head rocking with the rhythm, and I allow myself to be free.

I'm lost behind my lids when someone tightly grips my wrist, pulling me forward and off balance. I'm encased in strong arms, surrounded by rosemary and a hint of something else. Something peppery that makes me crinkle my nose.

"You look good dancing by the wall," the man whispers in my ear, "but you'd look even better dancing in my arms." His breath tickles my neck. His warmth feels good, but my insides churn with anxiety. It's not right. He's not right, but I think I can be okay with this.

The guy pulls back to look me in the eyes. I'm unsure what to expect, as I've only felt his touch. He's not bad-looking, if not a bit disheveled, with his scruffy beard and messy hair that's not accidentally messy. He holds me at arm's length as his gaze burns down my body, and I'm suddenly self-conscious of the fresh pink scar peeking out from the neckline of my dress. It's the scar that Brandon gave me, and I worry this random stranger will be disgusted with me. When his gaze meets mine again, he grins with appreciation. If the roles were reversed, I'd be curious, maybe taken aback. Instead, he pulls me in. Our bodies are flush as he takes control and sways us to the beat. I place my hands on his chest and rest my cheek there, his hands tight on my waist.

We remain like that for a while, with others around us doing the same. That is until a more upbeat song is remixed in, and he spins me around, grabbing my hips. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know how to dance. Should I move my feet or let him take control? I take a moment to assess the people around me. Men are grinding on women's butts as they shake their…assets seductively.

The stranger presses his front to my back and runs his hands down my thighs, cinching up the hem when he glides them back up my form. "Grind that pretty little ass on me, Doll. Show me how you move," the man murmurs just before nipping my ear.

So, I surrender and do as I'm told. I bend over and shake my ass. My globes jiggle left and right, hitting this man's hardened length through his tight jeans with each pass. I've observed the crowd long enough to learn a few moves. Whether I do them with ease is up for debate, but I make a reasonable effort to fake it till I make it. Then I drop it low and pick it up slowly, rubbing against him the whole way. When I straighten to my full height, the man's hands are on me again, touching, grabbing as if he can't get enough.

"Do you want to take this to your place?" he asks, his scruff causing a burn on my bare shoulder.

Do I? This is the situation I wanted, right? But I thought, no… hoped someone would come and break this up before it got to this point. I turn to give the man my full attention, peering into his eyes. Their color is hard to tell, but I know they aren't green. Brown, maybe? This isn't the man I wanted, but I guess he'll have to do.

"Yes, my place." I smile up at him sweetly.

‘Perfect' is what I think he says before hooking his arm around my waist and pulling me through the throng of bodies and out the double doors. The night air cools my slick skin, and the music is muffled.

"Where's your ride?" he asks, still leading me down the walkway.

Shit!I didn't think that far. As soon as he sees the hearse, he will run for sure. "My ride? Can we take yours instead?

He stops with his hands on my shoulders, pulling me into his side. "I would doll, but I came with some buds. You know?"

No, I wouldn't know anything about having friends. The only friend I have is Egor.

"Uh, yeah." I laugh him off awkwardly. "Of course."

We stand together awkwardly as if I'm waiting for the universe to drop into my lap and for my plan to go as perfectly as I thought it would. Spoiler alert: it's not.

"Sooo, your ride?"

I clear my throat and begin walking. "Yeah, sorry. This way."

He catches up to me and snakes his arm around my waist again. We walk past the metal graveyard of jagged fence pieces, and I swear if you walk too closely, you'll need a tetanus shot. Once we make it to the shops, there's a bounce to my stranger's steps. That's when a nagging sensation tugs at my brain.

"Shouldn't we exchange names or something?" I ask, trying not to show any fear.

He stops walking and raises an eyebrow, "Do we really need to? I mean, you could just call me God in the bedroom."

I lift a brow back at him. The fuck? He grins as if that's supposed to be a turn-on or something. Yeah, never mind. He'll be lucky if he even makes it to my hearse. He's insufferable. At least when my Dr. said perverted things, he made my insides melt. This guy just sounds cheesy, like he's trying too hard.

And I swear, the names get progressively worse, but I'll live—obviously. Without acknowledging whatever that was, I resumed walking, leaving him behind. He runs to catch up with me, and I cross my arms over my chest.

"Come on, Doll. Don't be like that," he whines, pulling me into his side again. He's really starting to get on my nerves with the manhandling. I keep my eyes straight ahead.

Apparently, he doesn't like that I'm not paying him any attention, so he steps in front of me. "Look," he says, placing his open hand over his heart. "I'm sorry. Let me start over. My name is Greg. It's an awful name, and I didn't want to tell you that, so I covered it with a joke. Don't be mad at me. Let's just have a good night, okay?"

Unfurling my arms, I narrow my eyes before acquiescing, "Fine."

"Good." He throws his arm over my shoulder, forcing me to move with him again. "Now. Where are you parked?" I didn't realize how close we had gotten to my ride. This will be the real test to see if he runs away.

"There." I point to my beautiful hearse.

His eyes widen slightly before he spots his features. "Perfect."

I shuffle to the driver's side, leaving him on the passenger side. At least the key I had safely tucked in my bra survived the night. The back of my heels would not make it if I had to walk all the way home. I unlock the doors, hop in, and start the engine. The engine hums idly as I drum my black painted nails on the steering wheel, but Greg never gets in. I glance out the windows and see no sign of him. He's not there. Probably ran off while I was unlocking the door.

"Fucking asshole." I huff out a forceful breath. Slightly annoyed and yet a little relieved, I peel out of the parking lot.