Bait (Wake, #1)(61)
We stood in line outside for a while, but it was a beautiful, albeit humid, October southern night. There was a breeze that washed past every now and then. It was refreshing.
Troy and Melanie hit it off great. Although, I wasn't really getting a flirty kind of vibe from them. It was more of a kindred spirits thing.
They talked about his job at Tinnitus and how she'd dated a few musicians. They even knew a few of the same people back in their hometown. I saw them exchange numbers earlier and I thought it was kind of cool.
“So how do you guys know each other?” Melanie asked as we got closer to the club’s roped off doors.
Casey spoke first, “Her best friend from college is in a relationship with my brother.” The answer was true. Half true. He neglected to add the part about where we had a few one-night stands, communicate almost daily, and we f*cked on my hotel floor the night before. But who was really paying that close of attention?
I still had a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't quite call it guilt, because I couldn't truthfully admit—even to myself—that I regretted being with Casey. Whatever it was, it made me feel anxious. All I wanted to do was get another drink and lose myself on the dance floor with him.
Casey hadn't touched me since Troy and Melanie showed up in the lounge and I was eager to feel his hands on my skin, even though it was risky. But I wasn’t worried about Melanie. She was a love-the-one-you’re-with kind of girl and my desire made me reckless.
Taboo was precisely that. A variety of people were inside the club, and for club hours we were pretty early. Having had a few more drinks at the hotel, it was only a little after ten when we finally gained admittance.
They played house music and the layout was totally bizarre. When first we walked in, there was a glass wall separating us from a dance floor that was elevated about waist high. Upon looking up, through steel beams, I could see the underside of a glass second floor where people had started to dance as well. Strobe and ultraviolet lighting made everything look aggressive and otherworldly.
Melanie and I decided to find a table while the guys got our drinks. We selected a secluded spot in the back where you could see both dance floors and we didn't have to scream to talk.
“So what's the real story with you and Casey?” Melanie asked as soon as we were seated on a circular white couch with a small coffee height, glass table, which glowed bright red from within.
“I don't know what you’re asking me? His twin brother and Micah are dating. You remember me talking about her, right? I met Casey when I was in San Francisco for her graduation last spring.” I answered as casually as I could manage.
If one tells a half-truth at nine o'clock and another at ten thirty, do they cancel each other out? Or make one complete true story? Even I wasn't believing my liar's logic.
I was thankful that Casey and Troy were walking toward us just then, with two shots and two beers apiece.
“Good spot, ladies. Let's have some fun,” Troy said as he placed his handful of drinks on the low table and came to sit by me. It felt strange, but I pretended like it was no big deal. All the while, my skin was screaming for Casey.
“Should we toast?” asked Melanie over the thumping music. Then, answering her own question, she lifted one of the clear shots above her head. We all followed suit and soon there were four arms stretched upward, toward the center of the seating area.
“We'll all make one,” she instructed. “I'll go first. Here's to meeting new friends and replacing the shitty ones.”
“Here's to finding someone to lay on top of me later,” Troy said and we all laughed.
“Here's to brave men who wear red pants,” I said, because I couldn't think of anything good.
We all looked at Casey and he smiled weakly, “Here's to the bait.”
His eyes were fixed on mine and then he raised his shot a little higher signaling for everyone to drink. It was tequila. No lime. No salt. And consequently, no feeling left in my throat. It was like fire all the way down into my stomach.
“I'm going to hit the ladies room and then I'm going to dance upstairs. Meet back here in a while?” asked Melanie and we all nodded our agreement.
When she left I sat in my seat next to Troy feeling two things. Casey's eyes burning through me and the liquor burning through my already murky judgment. I wanted him, but didn’t know what to do or say.
Then Troy asked me, “Do you like to dance, Blake?” A smile crept from east to west across his cleanly shaved face. My gut reaction was to look at Casey and gauge his reaction to this, but I focused my eyes on the beer in front of me. I leaned forward to grasp it just as Troy slipped an arm around the back of my seat.
“She isn't dancing with you, man,” said Casey from across the table.
“She's not? How about you let her make up her own mind, man.”
“She's mine, Troy,” said Casey a little louder than necessary. I presume it was the alcohol making him so quick tempered. I wasn't looking forward to a repeat of last night. Or maybe I was.
“She is?” I didn't know what had gotten into Troy. He hadn't behaved like this earlier or last night. He'd only been fun and, more often than not, a source of comic relief.
“She is tonight,” Casey deadpanned.
His sudden claim to me made me feel hot and also a little nervous. But before the situation could escalate, I moved around the circular seat to him and extended my arm.