Maybe Someday (Maybe #1)(35)

Turning twenty-two has rotted my soul. Who am I, and why am I having these awful reactions?

We pull into the parking lot of a club. I’ve been here a few times with Tori, so I’m relieved that it won’t be completely unfamiliar. Warren takes my hand and helps me out of the car, then puts an arm around my shoulders and walks with me toward the entrance.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “I’ll keep my hands off you tonight so guys won’t assume you’re madly in love with me. I hate cock blockers, and I refuse to be one. But if anyone makes you uncomfortable, just look at me and give me a signal so I can swoop in and pull you out of the situation.”

I nod. “Sounds like a plan. What kind of signal do I give you?”

“I don’t know. You can lick your lips seductively. Maybe squeeze your breasts together.”

I elbow him in the side. “Or maybe I can just scratch my nose?”

He shrugs. “That works, too, I guess.” He opens the door, and we all make our way inside. The music is overwhelming, and the second the doors close behind us, Warren leans in to shout into my ear. “There are usually booths open on the balcony level. Let’s go there!” He tightens his grip on my hand, then turns to Ridge and Maggie and motions for them to follow.

? ? ?

I haven’t had to use the secret code Warren and I agreed on, and we’ve been here more than two hours now. I’ve danced with several people, but as soon as the song ends, I make it a point to smile politely and head back to the booth. Warren and Maggie seem to have made a nice dent in the liquor stock, but Ridge hasn’t had a drop. Other than a shot Warren persuaded me to take when we first arrived, I haven’t had anything to drink, either.

“My feet hurt,” I say.

Maggie and Ridge have danced a couple of times but that was to slow songs, so I made it a point not to watch them.

“No!” Warren says, attempting to pull me back up. “I want to dance!”

I shake my head. He’s drunk and loud, and every time I try to dance with him, he ends up butchering my feet almost as badly as he butchers the moves.

“I’ll dance with you,” Maggie says to him. She climbs over Ridge in the booth, and Warren takes her hand. They head down to the lower level to dance, and it’s the first time Ridge and I have been alone in the booth.

I don’t like it.

I like it.

I don’t.

I do.

See? Rotten soul. Corrupted, rotten soul.

Ridge: Having fun?

I’m not really, but I nod, because I don’t want to be that annoying, brokenhearted girl who wants everyone around her to feel how miserable she is.

Ridge: I need to say something, and I may be way off base here, but I’m attempting to improve on how I unintentionally omit things from you.

I look up at him and nod again.

Ridge: Warren is in love with Bridgette.

I read his text twice. Why would he need to say that to me? Unless he thinks I like Warren.

Ridge: He’s always been a flirt, so I just wanted to clear that up. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. That’s all.

Me: Appreciate your concern, but it’s unnecessary. Really. Have no interest there.

He smiles.

Me: You were right. I like Maggie.

Ridge: I knew you would. Everyone likes Maggie. She’s very likable.

I lift my eyes and look around when a Sounds of Cedar song begins to play. I scoot to the back of the booth and look over the railing. Warren and Maggie are standing by the DJ’s table, and Warren is interacting with the DJ while Maggie dances around next to him.

Me: They’re playing one of your songs.

Ridge: Yeah? That always happens when Warren’s around. Are they playing “Getaway”?

Me: Yeah. How’d you know?

Ridge presses a flat palm to his chest and smiles.

Me: Wow. You can differentiate your songs like that?

He nods.

Me: What’s Maggie’s story? She communicates really well. She seems to dance really well. Does she have a different level of hearing loss from yours?

Ridge: Yes, she has mild hearing loss. She hears most things with hearing aids, which is why she also speaks so well. And she does dance well. I stick to slow songs when she wants me to dance with her, since I can’t hear them.

Me: Is that why Maggie speaks out loud and you don’t? Because she can hear?

His eyes swing up to mine for a few seconds, and then he looks back at his phone.

Ridge: No. I could speak if I wanted to.

I should stop. I know he’s probably annoyed by these questions, but I’m too curious.

Me: Why don’t you, then?

He shrugs but doesn’t text me back.

Me: No, I want to know. There has to be a reason. It seems like it would make things a lot easier for you.

Ridge: I just don’t. I get along fine with how I do things now.

Me: Yes, especially when Maggie and Warren are around. Why would you need to talk when they can do it for you?

I hit send before I realize I probably shouldn’t have said that. I have noticed Maggie and Warren do a lot of his talking for him, though. They’ve ordered for him every time the waitress has come by the booth, and I’ve noticed Warren do it several times this week in different situations.

Ridge reads my text, then looks back up at me. It seems I made him uncomfortable, and I immediately regret saying what I did.