What's Left of Me
Page 43

Jean arrives, saving me from the conversation. The guy next to her is not quite my height. He’s got sandy blond hair and dark chocolate brown eyes.
“Sorry we’re late!”
“It’s okay.”
Bending down, she gives me a brief hug before introducing me to the guy she’s with. After learning his name is Tristan and exchanging greetings, I introduce her to Parker.
“Ah, the famous Parker. It’s so good to finally meet you. I can’t get Dre to shut up about you.” She’s teasing, but it causes Parker to sit up taller.
Looking my way, he gives me wink. “She seems to like making me the topic of conversation. Which is good because I can’t shut up or stop thinking about her, either.”
My eyes widen at his words, as do Jean’s.
“Oh my God,” she sighs next to me, her eyes glistening at his words.
I look back at Parker and our eyes lock. Searching them, I look for anything that says he’s joking. Something that says his words don’t have much meaning behind them. I need them to say we’re just friends, nothing more, but I don’t see that. Instead, I see a guy who I’m developing feelings for, and who, I know, returns them.
We finish our dinner quickly, then pile in one car together to save on parking. I can tell Jean really likes Parker; she taps my leg or grabs my hand when he says something she likes. Which is almost everything.
Walking into Tainted, Jean and I are stopped immediately to show our I.Ds. The bouncer ushers Tristan and Parker through without even a look.
After I get my stamp of approval on the inside of my right wrist, Parker takes my hand and leads the way into the three-story night club. We find a small table against the metal railing that overlooks the dance floor directly across from the stage.
The dance floor is considered to be on the first floor, but really it’s sunken down by a few steps. There is a large staircase on either side of the club leading to the third level where there are more round tables.
Parker motions for me to take a seat, but Jean tugs on my free hand. “Hey, we’re going to go get drinks. Save our spot!” she yells over my shoulder to the guys.
Pulling me toward the bar, I yell, “I can’t drink tonight, remember?” The music is blaring so loud I can’t even hear my own thoughts.
“Why?” She still has my hand in hers, pulling me through the swarm of people.
I try yelling over the noise of the music and people but she doesn’t hear me, so I wait until we reach the bar.
“I’m getting my drugs changed Wednesday for the last two rounds. I had specific instructions not to drink for at least five days prior.”
“No shit?”
“You’ll survive a night without me drinking.” I laugh.
With a vodka cranberry, two beers, and water for me, we make our way back to the table. I slide into the chair next to Parker. His arm is resting on the back of my chair and once I’m seated he scoots his chair closer, bringing his other arm around my waist. I give him a smile and hand him a beer.
“Not drinking tonight?” He motions his beer toward the water bottle in front of me.
“Nah.”
We chat, dance in our seats, and laugh about anything and everything. I’ve never seen Jean so into a guy. She is hanging on his every word like they’re her lifeline, eventually making her way onto Tristan’s lap.
Shortly after the band comes on, I overhear Tristan yell in Jean’s ear that he wants to make his way down in front of the stage. Glancing in that direction, I see the mosh pit already forming. No way in hell I’m doing that!
Parker nudges my side. “Doesn’t that look like fun?”
“No!”
Laughing, he takes a swig of his beer. “Ah, come on, babe. Just think of how close our bodies will be down there. It will be like old times.” He gives a slight wiggle to his eyebrows before rumbling out a deep laugh.
“Our bodies can be close right here.” I scoot even closer to him, wrapping his arm back around my waist, putting my free hand in his, and clasping our fingers together. “See. We’re close.”
That causes him to laugh harder. Jean and Tristan stop mid-conversation to look at us.
“What’s so funny?” Jean asks.
“Aundrea wants to go down in the mosh pit!” he yells between laughs.
“I do not!” I yell back over the music.
“Oh, come on, Dre! Think of how fun it will be.” She beams.
“No.” I don’t feel like getting pushed around. It’s not even the fact that I feel minor aches and pains in my joints. I can push through that, but I can see me slipping on someone’s spilled beer and falling to my death in the middle of the sticky, dirty floor. No one will be paying attention because they’ll be jumping and slamming to the music. I’ll end up getting stomped on, kicked, and probably with someone’s bodily fluids sprayed all over me. Or, worse, I’ll be pushed and my wig will go flying to the ground. That does not sound like a good time to me.
“I think there’s a small opening in the center we can squeeze our way into,” Tristan points.
Or not.
Yeah. The center. Right in the middle of the action.
Parker and Jean both turn to get a better look. I take this opportunity to look for the nearest exit sign because I’ll be using it a lot sooner than I intended. There is no way I am risking losing my hair over this.
Clapping her hands, Jean bounces in her seat like a five year old. “You’re right! Come on, let’s go. It will be so much better down there.” She grabs Tristan’s arm, pulling him away from the table.