Messy Love(17)

I took in Wyatt and shrugged. Maybe the asshole would find someone to keep him otherwise occupied.

“What do you want me to say, Wyatt? You think you have me pegged anyway.’’

We stared at each other in silence, and I forgot that my brother was standing next to me, that we’re in front of a club… That I hated this big surly guy.

He was one of those people that when you looked in their eyes, looked deeply enough past the bullshit standing in the way, you found yourself trapped in something you couldn’t name, but that made everything inside you go berserk.

Jamie cleared his throat, and it’s as if he slapped the back of my head just like when we were kids and I annoyed him. I turned my face away from Wyatt and thanked the blue neon and the night that must be hiding most of my sudden blush.

“Come with me,’’ Wyatt said and turned around without waiting to see if we followed.

“What was that?’’ Jamie asked me in my ear, close and quiet enough, so the big guy didn’t hear.

I didn’t say anything. There’s no answer. I had no idea of what happened, but I knew the resulting issues.

I was turned on, going back from a very foreign high.

I’d been with men. I’d had terrific sex, some sweet sex, some bad sex, but nothing had prepared me to feel turned on by a glare from a scowling giant when all I wanted was to slap him across his smug face. That was, that’s what I had thought I wanted. Now, I wondered if my hatred for this man hid a deeper longing I’d rather squish before it took over the forefront of my mind.

People in the line waiting to get inside started complaining as we passed by them and the bouncer let us in with a nod and a wink for me that made me shudder. The man was probably more than twice my age with yellowish teeth and a receding hairline.

As soon as we gave our jackets to the people waiting in the short dark hall leading to the club, we entered the main room. I had to blink a few times to get accustomed to the strobe lights, the pack of moving bodies in the middle and the long bar in the backlit by blue neon lights that were so bright it made my eyes water. Or maybe it’s the smell of spilled liquor and sweat that affected my tear ducts.

Wyatt had no issues leading us through the moving bodies, and as I followed him with Jamie behind me, it stunned me how many hands landed on his ass, chest, and arms.

It wasn’t my first foray in a club, but I would never be like these women sampling the goods of a passing guy. Even if the guy seemed to enjoy it. And he did. When he turned his head to look at some of these women, his annoying smile was there, and I bet his eyes weren’t scowling while looking at the cleavages presented to him.

We finally reached the lounge section, and I immediately located Ralph’s crazy hair. He’s focused on a gorgeous woman sitting next to him with flaming red hair. She’s nothing like the type of girl I’d imagine him with, but one quick glance and I knew there’s something. The woman had a simple black dress showing a hint of cleavage, but nothing scandalous. In fact, I thought I was showing more boobs than her in my low cut tank top. But the way they both leaned into each other, eyes searching, hands slowly touching thighs… There’s history there and probably something complicated.

Wyatt sat in front of the pair, nodding at a few other people sitting by. He kicked Ralph under the table and when he had his attention nodded my way as I took the seat next to Wyatt, pushed by my brother who was barely containing his laughter at my pissed look. Why did brothers always have to torment their little sisters?

“Marissa, hey! How are you?’’

I smiled at Ralph and the girl next to him, hoping it showed her I wasn’t here to steal her man and I guessed the message was received when she nodded at me and smiled gently. “Fine. I finished the design for your tatt earlier.’’

“Shut up! I have to stop by tomorrow to have a look,’’ he smiled at me, eyes dancing. He turned to the girl next to him. “Emma, this is Marissa. She works at InkSpired, a tattoo parlor in Midtown. She’ll be inkin' over this sucker.’’ He pointed at the awful piece ruining his sleeve.

Emma stared back at me. “Finally! Drunken mistakes shouldn’t be worn proudly like that.’’ I barely heard her light voice over the hard booming of the music.

“Depends on the drunken mistakes,’’ Ralph replied, a pantie melting smile on his face as his eyes went down her body, shamelessly checking her out and making her blush.

I turned away, feeling a bit intrusive suddenly. But when I glanced at my brother, I found him chatting with two guys from Wyatt and Ralph’s group. Great.

I sighed and leaned further into the lounge couch.

“Want a drink?’’ Wyatt asked me, his mouth so close to my ear I felt his exhale over my skin and smelled the faint trace of alcohol on his breath.

“You’re asking nicely. What’s up with you?’’ I bit my tongue hard when I realized I was looking for trouble. For once, Wyatt acted decently, and I was trying to get a rise out of him. He brought out the worst in me.

“Do you want me to be an asshole? It can be arranged,’’ he retorted without missing a beat, but this time around I didn’t detect the usual bite in his words that I’d learned to associate with him since I’d met him five days ago.

I turned sideways and faced him. There's something oddly intimate when you faced someone so close that you could see each eyelid on the other person, that you could make out their distinct smell and saw so deep into their eyes they seemed like they’re bottomless with countless things that made them who they were without you knowing anything about them. But at that moment, when you locked eyes, and your noses were almost touching, you thought you could reach out and maybe touch bits and pieces of who the other was at heart, even through the bullshit they broadcast far and wide.