Chapter Nineteen
Luke
Margot tosses back yet another beer, letting out a rebel yell when she does. The music is loud, and the fire is hot, the biting air slapping against my skin.
We’re at Dean’s house for his annual bonfire. All my old friends are here, most of them with wives or girlfriends. I thought it would be a good way for everyone to meet Margot.
And meet Margot they have.
Dressed to kill in her skintight black dress that is suctioned to her curves like a glove, she’s been the star of the bonfire, to many of the guys’ significant others’ chagrin. Dancing wildly, drinking more alcohol than I thought possible, and singing karaoke are the highlights of Margot’s bonfire experience.
“Well, you got yourself a wild one,” Dean whispers to me as Margot tells Dean’s wife, Sadie, about her trip to Cancun last summer.
“That I did,” I admit, grinning before taking another gulp of beer.
“Nothing wrong with wild,” Dean says. “I don’t think you have to worry about her wanting to settle down anytime soon.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I say, watching Margot dance her way over to me. “She claims to be allergic to diamond rings and commitment.” Dean shakes his head and laughs.
“Stop being so boring. Dance with me,” she demands, yanking me out to a secluded spot by the fire and interrupting our conversation.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” I protest as she wraps her arms around my shoulders, her chest pressing against mine.
“Well, tonight you are,” she says as a rock song comes on. We dance rather wildly in the middle of the yard, Margot laughing and having the time of her life. In truth, it really isn’t my scene and I feel like I probably look like I’m having a stroke. Still, I dance with her, and it does feel kind of good, I tell myself.
The night continues to unfold, Margot encouraging round after round of shots. Back in my day, I could’ve given her a run for her money. Margot would’ve been no match for the Luke of before, the rebellious partier who was the master of beer pong.
Tonight, I’m doing my best to keep up.
When it’s finally time to leave, Margot insists on going home with me. Who the hell am I to argue? Evan’s out for the night with Anna, so the only one left behind is Floyd. I don’t think he’ll mind.
I call us a cab, and Margot is all over me in the back seat to the point the driver asks if she’s going to be okay. He looks at me like I’m some skeevy weirdo, which pisses me off. Could also be the six beers I’ve had talking.
Margot sings so loudly on the way into my apartment that I think the neighbors are surely going to call the cops. She’s walking unsteadily, and it’s a chore to get her up the stairs.
Apparently she’s overdone it, even for her alcohol-tolerant self.
“Come on, stud. Screw me,” she says loudly once we’re inside the door.
I grin and shake my head. She’s absolutely gorgeous. Any guy would kill to have Margot Lane asking him to screw her, especially in that dress. I’d be lying to say I didn’t fantasize about ripping it off her all night.
But even with my head a little hazy from all the drinking, I know I can’t. I know I can’t give in even if every part of my body is screaming at me to take her clothes off. It’s not right, not even if she’s begging.
I can’t have sex with her like this. It’s wrong.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” I say, leading her back up the hallway. She staggers and giggles.
“I like the sound of that.”
I lead her towards my room, and she jumps on the bed. “Take off those clothes,” she says.
I shake my head. “Not tonight, Margot. Let’s get some sleep.”
She gives me a pouty face that is sort of sad but sort of sexy. I help her get her shoes off. “Sex tomorrow?” she asks.
I grin, shaking my head. “Sex tomorrow. But I have a feeling you’re not going to be feeling like it.”
“You don’t know me very well then,” she says, winking before plopping back on the pillow. I head to the bathroom to take a piss. By the time I’m back, also feeling like falling into bed, she’s asleep, snoring lightly.
So I do exactly what I didn’t imagine myself doing. I climb into bed beside Margot, her sexy skintight dress still showing off enough of her to make me crazy, and I go to sleep.
***
“That was an awesome night,” Margot whispers in my ear. I groan, the sun shining in.
My head’s pounding, and I feel like shit. I open an eye slightly to see Margot propped up over me, smiling.
She looks like she’s had the best damn night of sleep of her life.
“How do you not feel like shit?” I ask, reaching to the nightstand for some Advil.
She shrugs. “Practice makes perfect,” she says. “Maybe you’re just getting old.”
“Apparently.”
“So anyway,” she says, her voice way too chipper. She leans in to kiss my neck. “I’m guessing sex this morning is off the table?”
“Yeah, at least until this pounding in my head stops,” I say. She treats sex so casually. I rarely hear a girl toss it around so easily.
“I figured. Anyway, my friend Miranda is having a party tonight. I promise I won’t get so drunk. Just a few drinks. Then maybe we can go back to my place?”
Another party? I can’t even think about getting out of bed right now. I can’t imagine going out again tonight. “I don’t know, Margot.”
“Come on. You only live once.”
“I’m not going to be alive at all, I have a feeling, once you’re done with me.”
She smiles, stroking my hair. “Just wait until you see what I can do in bed,” she says, kissing my cheek.
I feel myself harden at the thought. Before I can pursue it, though, she’s jumping out of bed. “Okay, I’m off. I have a manicure appointment in an hour. I’ll pick you up at six if that’s okay.”
I just groan in response as Margot skips out the door.
Either Margot’s right and I’m getting old, or this girl is just a rare breed. So much for an easy night of Netflix and songwriting. I feel like with Margot, there sure isn’t a need for commitment… but the wild life does take a lot of energy.