Chapter 15: Natalie
I had small heart palpitations as I pulled up to Scott’s apartment complex. I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing here. The last time I was at a house party I had been getting my Masters. I also never went to parties alone. Michaela was a required accessory.
Mirage Michaela popped into my head. “You’re not seriously going to chicken out, are you? You went on this whole spiel about being more adventurous, and now you want to pussy out?”
“I won’t,” I said to Mirage Michaela.
I would stay for an hour. I needed to commit to being more adventurous, and this was a step in the right direction. And I liked Scott. His brother might have been an asshole, but he was a pretty cool guy.
I flung open the car door so I couldn’t give myself more time to overthink it. This is fine. I approached the elevators, and each had a “Maintenance” sign placed on the double doors. For such a fancy complex, I would have assumed it would be in service. Climbing the steps would be good exercise, though.
I let out small pants as I climbed the stairway. I had assumed rock climbing would increase my cardio capacity, but after five flights I was beginning to doubt it. The door to the stairwell shut behind me as I exited on Scott’s floor. I leaned over, trying to catch my breath. For the sake of his neighbors, I tried to contain my hacking sounds. The noises I was making were similar to a cat about to retch up a furball.
The door in front of me opened, and Patrick fucking Reinhardt stood in front of me. Just my luck.
“Doing alright there?” He didn’t bother hiding the smirk on his face.
“Just,” I heaved. “Fine.”
“Uh huh.”
It took a few more seconds to catch my breath. I looked at Patrick, and I noticed he had exited from apartment 702. “I though Scott lived in 704?”
“He does. I live here.”
“Oh.” Without thinking, I cocked my head to see the inside of his unit. What did Patrick fucking Reinhardt’s apartment look like? I imagine it’s littered with leftover panties.
“Do you want a tour?” he laughed.
“No. No!” I turned bright red.
“Alright. A bit early, aren’t you?” Patrick asked.
I looked at my watch. It was 9:03. “I mean, he said it started at nine.”
He didn’t even try to hide his amused grin. “No one actually gets here at nine.”
“Oh. Well I suppose I do.” I tightened my hold on my purse. “And you’re going, aren’t you?”
“I’m his brother, and I live right next door,” he pointed out. “Plus, I already set the whole thing up. I just had to change.”
“Well, whatever. Let’s just go,” I huffed and walked away from him.
“Okay, Ms. Lane,” I could hear him trying to stifle his laughter from behind me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.
I brought my hand to the doorbell, but Patrick swatted it out of the way. The door was unlocked. I was surprised at the size of Scott’s apartment. Did one person even need that much space? I wasn’t sure of the square footage, but his living room could fit my entire apartment in it.
“Hi, guys,” Scott was stacking red solo cups on his dining room table.
At our age, one would assume we would be drinking wine. But by the looks of this setup we were about to party like college kids. My stomach twisted in knots, and I desperately wished Michaela was with me.
“Hello.” I felt a bit awkward. It was one thing to see Patrick and Scott at Rock Sphere. We both had the same hobby and went on the same day. I felt a bit strange doing something other than rock climbing with them.
“A bit early, Natalie.” Scott’s smile rivaled his brother’s.
That’s it. I’m never arriving on time to a party again. I’ll learn to be fashionably late. An hour, minimum. “Yeah.”
“She just couldn’t wait to see us.” Patrick patted the top of my head and shot me a devious smile.
I almost scowled at him, but I hadn’t left an overly-serious impression on Scott yet, and I wanted to keep it that way. If someone thought that I was semi-fun, that would make my life.
“Let’s have a shot!” Scott said, grabbing at the small glasses he had so carefully stacked.
“Oh, I wasn’t planning on drinking.”
“Live a little, Natalie.” Patrick frowned at me as Scott poured us the shots. “It won’t kill you.”
For once, Patrick was right. It wouldn’t kill me to have a little fun. I’d only drink a little, and I’d take an Uber home.
“Okay.”
Patrick clapped me on my back. “That’s my girl.”
“Never call me that,” I said, and Scott let out a snort.
“You know what I mean. To Scotty.” Patrick raised his shot glass. “Welcome to your thirties.”
“Thirties are the new twenties,” Scott said simply, and Patrick let out a cackle.
We clinked our glasses together and downed the shot. My face contorted as the bitter liquid slid down my throat. I hadn’t had a shot in months.
“Doing alright?” Patrick was trying not to laugh at my reaction to the shot.
“I don’t drink as often as I used to.”
“Well, tonight is going to be different. Let’s go back to your college days.”
“Do you really think I partied in college?”
“Well, no. But I bet your blonde friend was a partier. And she probably dragged you along.”
I was stunned. “How could you have known that?”
“Patrick has this radar. Or rather, a girl-dar. It’s like he can tell their life stories by looking at them,” Scott snickered.
“It’s a curse, truly.” He shot me a smile that would make most girls cream their pants, but I just wanted to punch him. Of course Patrick fucking Reinhardt had a girl-dar. He had probably slept with so many of them he had their thought processes and habits down to a science.
“Uh-huh.”
“Either way, we’re taking you back to your college days.” Patrick walked over to the fridge and opened it. “What are you drinking?”
“You pick.”
“Well, your friend was probably doing keg stands while you were sipping on whatever jungle juice they had, making sure she didn’t die.”
“Are you sure you didn’t go to Stanford?” I muttered.
He cackled as he combed through the fridge. “Yep, I’m just that good. I could probably make you a college cocktail right now and you wouldn’t care.”
He had been right about everything so far. I didn’t give a fuck what I drank. It probably stemmed from the fact I couldn’t cook and was constantly eating microwave meals or burnt toast.
“Shut up,” I mumbled.
“Here, just take this girly lemonade that Scotty made.”
“It’s not girly, it’s delicious!” Scott said. “It has Malibu and Lemonade and Strawberry Vodka—”
“Scotty, it’s pink and fruity. It’s girly.”
“Whatever. It’s delicious.”
It was just the three of us for another thirty minutes. It was true about not showing up at the party’s start time. I was still embarrassed about that, but at the same time it was nice to not be overwhelmed by people. Even though it was early, I already had a slight buzz. There was a lot of alcohol in this lemonade, and I didn’t weigh much at all.
“Take another shot, Natalie,” Patrick encouraged me.
“It’s like, 9:30, and I weigh 125 pounds. If you’re taking me back to my college days, I always knew how to pace myself.”
The doorbell rang, and Scott squealed with delight. A group of two men and a blonde woman stood in the entryway, and they were chatting excitedly.
“Oh, no.” The blood drained out of Patrick’s face.
“What?” I normally wouldn’t be concerned for him at all, but the alcohol had me asking questions.
“See that girl? I slept with her once, like a year ago. Worst mistake of my life. She’s batshit insane. Kept bothering me on social media, she got ahold of my phone number, and she even showed up to my apartment. Every few months she’ll still try to contact me.”
I was sure he was expecting sympathy, but I had to stifle a laugh.
“Why do you think that’s funny?” he hissed.
“Because you deserve it. You may have a girl-dar, but I have a Patrick-dar. I can tell you sleep with tons of women and then drop them like it’s nothing.”
He glared at me but couldn’t argue. I knew I was right.
He grabbed my hands. “Pretend to be my date.”
“Ha! Absolutely not.”
“Natalie, please. If she sees me alone she’ll take it as an invitation. Hell, if she sees me with someone she’ll still take it as in invitation. Just a smaller one.”
I did feel a little bit sorry for him. Michaela had that happen in college, and it was a horrible situation. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was sympathy. “If you try to kiss me, I will punch you in the face.”
“I’d rather kiss an alligator. Just hold my hand and don’t look at me like you normally do.”
“And how’s that?”
“Like you want to punch me in the face.”
I looked over at blondie, who was shooting daggers at me. The way she was looking at me did make her seem a bit insane. I realized I was still holding Patrick’s hands and I went to pull away, but he kept hold.
“Now, Natalie,” he released one hand and used it to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, “I’m going to look at you very lovingly. Pretend I’m saying something funny.”
“I won’t laugh, but I can smile.” I shot Patrick a huge grin.
To blondie, it probably looked like we were whispering sweet things as a couple. Ah, if she only knew our actual relationship.
“She’s coming over here.” I didn’t stop feigning the loving gaze as she approached us.
“Fuck.” He rubbed my hand and played with my fingers.
“Hi, Patrick.” He was on the edge of the sofa, and blondie took the opportunity to curl her body around his. I watched his face blanch as her body pressed against him.
“Hello, Nadia.”
“Who is your friend?” Her voice changed from sweet to venomous as she looked directly at me.
“This is my date, Natalie. So, if you’ll excuse me.” He scooted away from her and leaned into my body.
Oh god no. I never wanted to be this close to Patrick fucking Reinhardt. One, because I didn’t even like the guy. He always found new ways to make fun of and/or demean me. And two, having him lean against me while holding my hand felt like I was cheating on Major. I knew our glory hole relationship didn’t make us monogamous. For all I knew, he could be fucking another girl tonight. But deep down I knew I was the only one he had sex with.
I couldn’t back out after agreeing to help Patrick. The look on Nadia’s face was batshit insane when he introduced me to her. I would feel horrible if I left him.
“So, if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to get something to drink.” Patrick grabbed my hand and led me across Scott’s massive living room.
“She’ll be on my ass all night, so stay close to me,” he muttered.
“I don’t recall coming here to be your pretend-date,” I mused.
“I’m not fond of it either, Natalie,” He snaked his arm around my waist. “But I dislike her more.”
“You owe me. Big time.”
After a few more hours and many shots, everyone at the party was wasted. I was so drunk that I didn’t think about swatting Patrick’s hand away every time he touched me. Not drunk enough to want his hand though. There probably wasn’t enough alcohol in the world for that.
“Let’s dance,” Scott’s voice slurred as he yelled across the room. His apartment was huge and could easily be turned into a dance floor.
“Ready to dance, miss?” Patrick extended his hand.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Ah, I don’t know what I was thinking. You aren’t the type who can dance.”
I let out a small giggle. Even with all the alcohol, I still couldn’t laugh. “That’s the first time your girl-dar has been wrong.”
“What? It’s never wrong.”
“Oh, but it is.”
“You can dance?”
“Mhm.” Throughout my childhood I had taken various dance classes. I hadn’t attended the classes for fun; they were extra curriculars to add to my college resume. When Michaela found out I knew how to dance, she taught me the “correct” way. Which apparently involved grinding your body against another human being.
Needless to say, I only danced when I was forced to. It wasn’t that I didn’t like dancing. I get embarrassed doing it in public.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not, though. I bet I’m a better dancer than you.”
“Prove it.” Patrick let out a drunken laugh.
“I will.” Sober me would have denied, no matter what. Sober me wouldn’t have even mentioned I could dance. But drunken me wanted to prove Patrick wrong under any circumstances. He grabbed me by the hand and led me over to the makeshift dance floor.
“Get ready to lose.” Patrick whispered in my ear, and I ignored him. I didn’t know the name of the crappy pop song that was blasting out of the stereo, but it had a good enough beat I could shake my hips to.
I faced Patrick and wrapped my arms around him, and we started to sway our hips to the beat. I was too drunk to care that I was lightly grinding the inside of his leg. As the tempo picked up, I started to roll my hips, seeing if he could match me. “Amateur.”
“I’m just getting started.” He fell in perfect timing with me and began running his hands along my hips.
I ran my hands over his chest and worked my way across his arms. They were muscular from the amount of climbing he did, but not disgustingly beefy. They were just like Major’s arms. I wish I was dancing with him right now, and not Patrick. My face flushed as I envisioned myself doing dirty things with Major. I turned around so Patrick couldn’t see me, but kept our hips moving to the beat.
The next song was more sensual, and I slowed our tempo down. Only now, it wasn’t Patrick and me dancing. I had started to fantasize about Major holding me on the dance floor. My hips began to roll slower with the new beat, and I was absentmindedly drawing my lower body closer to his. I ground my ass into his pelvis, and I felt a familiar stiffness along my backside.
Major grabbed my hips and pulled me closer, begging me for more. He ran his hands along the insides of my thighs, and his touch made my dress snake upwards. His hands were dangerously close to my pussy, which was already throbbing for him. I was so turned on he could unbuckle his jeans and take me in the middle of the dance floor.
Reality slapped me when Scott gave a yowl of approval at our dancing. I wasn’t giving Major a boner on the dance floor—it was Patrick fucking Reinhardt.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I couldn’t even look him in the eye as I walked away.