“I think we should go out and have a few drinks. Plus, we need to get your truck, right?”

“Don’t use my vehicle as an excuse to go out.”

“It’s not an excuse. I need to have some fun. Things have been shitty for me lately.”

“My ears are ringing, and I’m still hung over. So, as much as I’d love to go out and have a good time, I don’t think I can.”

“Come on,” I tell him as he is scrolling through his phone, not paying much attention to our conversation. “Please!” I beg him, and he sets his phone down, looking at me with those eyes as I give him my saddest pouty face.

“Don’t give me that face.”

“Please,” I plead with him and place my hands together in a prayer position.

“Fine, but I can’t drink.”

“Good, I’ll drink for the two of us, then you can drive me home.”

“Great, I’m sure it’s gonna be a fun night,” he says sarcastically.

“It will be. Plus, you know you’ll give in and have a drink. Remember last year on my birthday when you were supposed to be the designated driver?”

“Fuck yeah, we were such a mess.”

“We were and . . .” I trail off, remembering how Leo picked us up after he was done working. He had been so sweet, but now that I think of it, he probably didn’t make it to my party because he was cheating on me and not really working at all. I shudder, letting go of the pain from my past. Fuck Leo and everything he ever did to me. I work on keeping the negative thoughts away, but losing Leo and then my job, too, makes me feel as if the walls are crumbling down around me.

“So, I’m gonna get ready.”

I head into my bathroom to do something with my hair and touch up my makeup from this morning. As I swipe some lipstick on, I decide to just leave my hair down and pull it all over to one side.

It isn’t until I go to look for something to wear that I remember I left all my dressy clothes at Leo’s condo in the spare closet.

“What are you wearing?” I holler out to Parks, hoping going a little casual is okay.

“What I have on.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know, jeans and a T-shirt. What does it matter?”

“I left all my dressy clothes in the spare closet at Leo’s.”

“Your body will look great in anything, where are we even going?” His comment sends a tiny flutter of heat through my stomach.

“Wherever your truck is, right?”

“Uhhhh, yeah right,” he agrees, and I turn back to my clothing selection, eventually deciding on a pair of tight skinny jeans, a silky green top, and a pair of flats.

After I’m all dressed, I walk back out into the living room, and Parks glances at me and then does a double take, scanning up and down my body, making my stomach flip by the way he’s looking at me.

“Are the shoes okay? The only heels I have are red.”

“Yeah! Yes . . . you . . . you look really good!”

“Thank you,” I tell him and grab a beer from the fridge.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to go to O’Malley’s or something?” he asks.

“Sure, whatever. Is that where your car is?”

“Uhhh . . .” He fidgets with the valet ticket in his hand, and I wait for him to say something. But he doesn’t.

“Have you remembered where you left your truck yet?” I finally ask, ’cause he’s acting fuckin’ strange.

“Don’t talk shit, okay.”

“Come on; it’s me you’re talking to.”

“I . . . I left it at The Paper Lion.”

“Shut up! The strip club?” He nods, and . . . holy fuck, Parks was at a strip club last night, I never would’ve imagined him for that sort of guy. Plus, what about Mallory? “What else are you keeping from me? Tell me, please!”

“Nothing!” he mumbles.

“Does Mallory know?”

“Yeah,” he quickly answers and grabs my beer from my hand, takes a swig of it, and then stares off a little awkwardly.

“I thought you were too hung over to drink?”

“I am, but I have a feeling I’m gonna need a few drinks tonight.”

“So, does that mean we’re going to the strip club?”

“Fuck, I guess so.”

“Yay!” I clap excitedly, and the smile doesn’t leave my face until we pull up to The Paper Lion.

Parks pays the taxi driver, and then we both get out of the car. The music is blaring from the inside of the club, and my stomach is twisting and turning over itself. I love strip clubs, but for some reason, I never go, and I’ve never been to one with Parks.

“I’m excited,” I tell him, but he doesn’t seem the same. “Aren’t you? You might see Cocoa here tonight,” I joke with him and bump his shoulder as he glares down at me, giving me the “that’s not funny” look, so I stop. I’m such a lightweight the one beer already has me buzzing and rambling.

The bouncer stops us at the door, looking intently between the two of us. “IDs?” he asks in his deep voice, and I have no clue why bouncers are always so big and scary. We hand them over, and he studies them like we are trying to cross the border or something before saying, “Cover is twenty dollars a head, pay Darla when you enter.”

“Thanks, man,” Parks tells him, and we go inside. Darla is older and has smoked way too many cigarettes in her life. Her lips have more wrinkles than a crumpled piece of tinfoil.

“Forty dollars, love,” she says as Parks takes out his wallet. “You guys need any ones?”

Parks looks at me, and I give him a pleading smile, he tosses a couple more twenties down and then hands me a stack of singles. I fold them and place them in my small clutch as we head toward another door that leads to the club.

My adrenaline is pumping through my veins, but he stops me before we can enter, putting his hand on the wall as he talks into my ear, the day-old scruff on his face brushing up against my cheek.

“Fallon, the guys in here are assholes, so will you do me one favor?”

“What?” I look to him, fully expecting to get the big brother speech.

“Act like we’re dating, so I don’t have to deal with any drunk assholes. You’re not gonna find your dream guy here, trust me.”

I do trust him, and to show him, I take his hand into mine and open the flimsy black door. The music hits me like a wave from the ocean, surrounding my entire body and as we move, I spot a girl selling drinks.

“You want a beer?”

“Yeah.”

He orders for each of us and passes me mine. With my drink in my hand, I take in the room and try to find an open table. I can feel eyes on us, and work hard to ignore them. My stomach stirs, not liking the attention one bit. He’s right; the men are like vultures waiting to swoop down on their next prey.

We look at all the different types of girls who are dancing. “Do you see Cocoa?” I ask him.

“No, I told you, I don’t remember her.”

“Did you like her?” I let out a small laugh at the incredulous look he gives me.

“I don’t think so.”

Then I forget all about Cocoa and any other question I have. He’s being so strange tonight. I decide to walk us to the closest open table I see. He pulls my chair out for me, which is a gesture that looks completely out of place in a strip club, and the blonde on the pole winks at us. We both watch her slide down the bar upside down and only holding on with one hand. When she gently lays her back flat on the dance floor, she smoothly flips over and crawls toward us like a cat down on all fours.

I open my purse and grab a stack of ones before setting them down in front of Parks. He shakes his head, but it’s too late, the blonde vixen pulls his face into her breasts. I chuckle, watching her do this to him, and my laugh brings her attention from Parks to me. She grabs ahold of the back of my chair and humps the dance floor, her body matching the beat of the music. Parks takes a twenty out from his wallet and tucks it into the side of her panties.

The money motivates her, and she slithers on top of my lap. Her huge tits are in my face while she knots her fingers into the base of my hair, grinding her pussy against me. “What’s your name?” she asks me, dry humping me.

“Fallon,” I tell her, and she says, “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Then you won’t mind if I do this?” She reaches over and touches his thigh as she continues to move to the music, grinding her hips against mine. I look down at her hand as she gets closer and closer to the center of his pants, and I find myself very turned on. As she rubs him, she licks my neck then takes my hand and places it on Parks’ leg.

It’s not an overly sexual kind of touch, but still, my eyes get wide, and I fight the urge to pull my hand away. But she wouldn’t let me if I tried. She kisses the bottom of my chin, holding my head in place as she moves my hand higher up his thigh to his hard cock. My heart is racing, alcohol coursing through me as I focus on the stark black ceiling. Parks is huge beneath my fingers, and I find myself squeezing my thighs together.

Then the song comes to an end, and the girl whispers in my ear, “He wasn’t hard when I touched him. He must like you.”

I swallow as she backs away, leaving me confused. The idea that it was my touch that made Parks hard doesn’t make sense. She takes the ones I left and scoots them to the center of the platform before moving to another guy across from us.

I sit frozen, a bit mortified and a whole lot turned on. That is until I realize I’m still cupping his dick. God, I don’t know what to do or say. I yank my hand away but can’t shake the vivacity that is coursing through my body.