Chapter 8
Adalyn
Holy shit. Shit. I just did that. I just sang on stage. In front of hundreds of people. I’m a fucking rock star.
“Yeah you are, slut!” Stacy yelled as I walked off stage.
“Shit, did I say that out loud? Ugh, my filter is even worse than normal. Please take me home before I do anything else I’ll regret.”
“You are so not going to regret that tomorrow. I got it recorded on my phone and we are going to watch that bad ass shit when you’re sober so you can appreciate it. I am so proud of you. You were amazing.”
Grabbing and downing two of the celebratory shots Stacy had ordered in honor of my performance, I realized I was way past the point of making sound decisions. After pouring my heart out into some Britney pop shit, I immediately felt embarrassed. What’s the cure for embarrassment? Laughter. I had anticipated feeling this way after actually trying and singing a song out of my comfort zone, so I told Brett that we had to immediately go into The Humpty Hump. It worked like a charm and had the desired effect. People were laughing and having such a good time that by the end of the second song, my first one was long forgotten. This ensured that even if I sucked, it didn’t matter.
“Shut up before I vomit on your shoes. I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead and get out of here. You can stay if you want, I’m just gonna grab my purse.”
“No way, dickbreath, I’m coming with you. You’re so shit faced you’d probably pass out in the back of the cab and the cabbie would have to drag your drunk ass up to our door and I am not cleaning your puke up off our porch.”
I tried to slap Stacy but I didn’t even come close to hitting her, and the momentum of it knocked us into a group of people standing off to the side. Stacy and I were giggling and apologizing, but whoever I had bumped into was apparently very unhappy.
“You idiot!” Carrie yelled, pushing my shoulder with her hand, knocking me back a couple steps. “You just made me spill my drink all over my dress! What is wrong with you!”
“Calm down, Carrie, it was an accident,” Stacy tried to assure her, but I wasn’t sure Carrie even heard her because her eyes continued to burn holes into mine. I started to speak up and apologize but Carrie huffed off before I had a chance. Stacy and I just looked at each other and fell into a fit of laughter. We had a tendency to giggle uncontrollably in tense situations.
“Wait, let me grab my purse,” I told Stacy as I pulled her towards the couch I’d been occupying before my vocal debut.
“Shit! Where is it?! Where is my fucking purse!?” I was looking around frantically, even dropped to my knees on the disgusting floor to look on the floor under the couch.
“Okay, first off, you have to stand up. Apparently your purse isn’t the only thing you lost. Where the hell are your panties?”
“What? Oh. This dress was too tight; I didn’t want a panty line. I wasn’t anticipating crawling around on the floor. Oops.” Flashing my lady parts was the least of my worries if I couldn’t find my purse. “I just ran up on the stage and left it here on the couch without thinking. It had my phone and everything in it. DAMMIT.” Turning to see Ian approaching, I growled. “YOU! This is all YOUR fault!”
Throwing up his hands in a gesture of innocence he came to a stop.
“I was all the way across the room. How could I have possibly pissed you off now?”
“My purse was stolen because of you!”
“Yeah, okay, I still don’t see how I have anything to do with your purse getting stolen.”
“You…you distracted me. You are always distracting me. You…ugh…you are so frustrating!”
Spinning in circles, trying to process what to do, I swayed to the left bumping into Ian. I have got to stop spinning. Spinning and shots equaled Ian’s arms around my waist and my guard was down low enough for me to feel my desire dripping down my leg just from his touch. Dammit, where are panties when you need them.
Suddenly, with the combination of the alcohol and stress from losing my purse, my body decided it was nap time. Never mind the fact that I was standing in the middle of a packed club. Nope. That didn’t matter. My legs just decided they were done for the night, and down I went.
Ian, always jumping to my rescue, wrapped his arms around me yet again. Instead of pushing away from him like my brain was telling me to do, my body decided snuggling was a better option. C’mon, brain. Get control of the situation here. Okay... my brain was giving my brain a pep talk to control my body. I’d officially lost it. But he was so warm and my body fit perfectly into his side. Being in his arms just felt right, and while normally that would freak me out, I was too tired and too drunk to fight it. Goodbye rational thought, hello bad decisions.
“I’m so sad, Ian. I lost my phone and my pretty pink sparkly purse with my favorite lip gloss and my Starbucks gift card. How will I get coffee now? My lips will be dull and dry and I’ll be too tired to care that I can’t call anyone because I’ll be caffeine deprived. Why is life so cruel?”
Aaaand...kill me now. No really. I’d rather be dead than be living through this.
I could feel him chuckling as he squeezed me tighter. It felt familiar, his hold around me. I didn’t know why. I hated being touched. I couldn’t remember the last time I let a man hold me like that without pushing him away or cringing. No matter the reasons for why I felt so comfortable right then, all I could do was let out a heavy sigh and relax further into his hard body.
I wanted to dip my hand into his shirt. I wanted to rub my fingertips all over his hard chest, tracing down his abs, down to his glorious abdomen that led directly to his happy place. Happy place? I really was gone.
Holy hell, I was actually trying to put my hand in his shirt. What’s worse is that I couldn’t stop. Thankfully he had the good sense to do it for me. Giving my hand a light squeeze and smiling down at me, he started towards the exit.
“Come on, sunshine. Let’s get some fresh air and you can use my phone to call the police. We’ll get this figured out for you. You can feel me up all you want once we get you sobered up.”
“Why are you being so nice to me? I’m such a bitch to you. You make me so angry. I can’t help it. Why do you make me so angry? I want to touch your face.”
Laughing and moving my hand from his face, he continued to hold me gingerly. Like I was made of porcelain. That should have made me angry. I was not weak; I didn’t need to be babied. But he was so warm and cozy, I just couldn’t muster up the energy to be mad.
“I’m being nice to you because you are drunk and need someone to take care of you, and despite whatever it is you think of me, I’m actually a pretty decent guy. At least, I like to think I am. And I make you angry because I can. You make it so easy, and you are so adorable when you get frustrated I just can’t help myself.”
“You think I’m adorable?”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“Maybe we should have this conversation when you are sober.”
“I think you know me well enough by now to know that this conversation will never happen when I’m sober. And since I plan on never drinking again, this is your one chance to take advantage of my vulnerable self.” I immediately came to a halt and stiffened from my own words. He didn’t let me stop for long though, instead he urged me to keep going.
When we finally emerged from the club, the cold air felt amazing against my hot skin. I didn’t know if I was hot from the club or from the beautiful man’s arms wrapped around me, but either way I was on fire. My skin was slick with sweat and was covered in goose bumps from the cold. Ever the gentleman, Ian draped a jacket over my shoulders. Where did he even get a jacket? Damn him. He was making it harder and harder to hate him.
Stacy stepped out moments after we did, and Ian walked us both over to the side of the club and told us to lean against the wall and not move while he called the police.
“Bossy bastard.”
Stacy and I burst out into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, and strangers turned and stared. I’m sure we were a sight. Sweaty, disheveled, drunk and giggling. Slinking down to the ground Stacy and I laid our heads back, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle. Despite how badly the evening had started, I was actually having a lot of fun. Probably the most fun I’d had in a really long time.
“I think Ian’s into you.”
Snorting derisively at Stacy’s remark, I couldn’t help but inwardly feel the butterflies of longing. I was still too drunk to stop them before it happened. Longing is not something I allowed myself to feel. Still, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander for just a moment and imagine what it would be like to actually go on a date with Ian. Would he take me to a nice restaurant? Show up at my doorstep with flowers? Treat me to a romantic evening? I would hate all of those things. Something told me he would know that, though. He read me so well it scared me.
It didn’t matter. I couldn’t entertain those types of thoughts. Ian dated the city’s elite, not boring, simple girls like me. I could never give him what he wanted. He was used to the nice restaurants and romantic evenings. It’s what normal girls expected and enjoyed. If he really was the nice guy I was starting to believe he was, then he deserved better than me anyway. I still didn’t even know what he did for a living, but it was obvious he had lots of money. I was sure he wouldn’t want my baggage coming along and screwing up his perfect life.
Just as my thoughts took a depressing turn, my pity party was halted by the approaching cop car. An extremely attractive man stepped out from the driver’s side and Stacy and I simultaneously went slack jawed. Damn, he wore that uniform well. He was the verify definition of tall, dark and handsome. My thoughts were too preoccupied with Ian currently to be affected by this man’s good looks, but Stacy was always a sucker for a man in uniform.
Looking over at her confirmed my suspicions. This was about to get interesting. If the sparkle in her eye and devious grin she was wearing wasn’t enough to convince me that she was about to do something stupid, then her not-so-casually yanking the top of her dress down to expose more cleavage was a dead giveaway.
Ian immediately shook the officer’s hand, explaining the situation. It was a miracle there was someone sober and responsible there to help us. I didn’t think I could form a coherent sentence right then. The fact that Ian kept having to take care of me sobered me up just a little, though.
The officer eyed us speculatively, obviously assessing our drunken state. I’m sure we were a hot mess. We were still in a hysterical state of laughter when the officer approached.
“Good evening, ladies. I’m Officer Chad Stevens. I am here to…”
Before he could even finish his sentence, Stacy was trying to stand. Trying being the key word there. When she finally made it to her feet, she immediately put her hands on the officer’s chest and tried to give him a seductive look but ended up looking more like she was constipated.
“Hey, Officer Sexy Pants. Are you here to arrest me for being a very, very bad girl? You might want to use your cuffs, I can be very feisty,” she slurred, her face inches from his.
The officer took her hands and gently pushed them away and looked at her with a mix of pity and annoyance. Did this happen to him often? Even drunk I’d imagine not very many women would have the balls to be so forward with a cop the way she was. I’d always envied her confidence when it came to men. Not right at that moment, though. Right then I was too busy laughing at her to be jealous of anything.
“Ma’am, unless you’ve committed an actual crime then no, I am not here to arrest you. However, you ladies have clearly had a lot to drink tonight, so I hope neither of you had planned on getting behind the wheel.”
“No sir,” Ian chimed in. “I’ll make sure they get home safely. They took a cab here.”
Stacy, being the idiotic slut she was, decided it would be a good time to try and solicit a man coming out of the club, offering her services in exchange for money. What the hell was she doing? She was being so ridiculous and normally I would be mortified, but I was too drunk to care. I dug Stacy’s phone out of her purse and tried to take a video, but I was too inebriated to figure out how to unlock the damn screen.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you can’t solicit a man for sex, especially in front of an officer. Are you trying to get arrested?” All pity was gone from the officer’s face and all that remained was the annoyance.
“Why yes, officer. I think you’ll quickly realize just how determined I am. If breaking the law is what I need to do to get you to put your hands on me, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll even resist a little. I like it rough.”
Oh good God, Stacy, shut up.
The officer grabbed Stacy’s elbow and lead her towards his car. You could see the excitement in her eyes. She clearly thought she’d gotten to him, but apparently she was too drunk to see what was really on his face. Anger. He was not amused by her antics. He gently pushed her into the back of his car, but when she smiled and started to speak, he slammed the door in her face. Stacy started banging on the window, calling the officer all sorts of colorful names. With his back to her and her shouts muffled behind the window, you could see the smirk he was trying to conceal. He was enjoying making Stacy angry.
“I think this one needs a night in lock up to teach her how to behave in public. Will you make sure your friend gets home safely and tell her to report to the station in the morning when she has sobered up to give a report?” Ian politely nodded, but the look on his face made a bubble of laughter burst from my mouth when he finally registered what the officer had just said.
“You’re not actually going to file charges against her, are you?” Ian looked shocked, but quickly relaxed when the officer laughed and gestured dismissively to his question.
“No, I won’t document anything. Just want to scare some sense into her. As soon as she sobers up enough to make it home, I’ll let her go.” Ian hurriedly handed the officer Stacy’s purse. “Have a nice night,” the officer said to us as he got in his car.
And as quickly as he came, the officer left, and I was alone in the hands of my new pseudo enemy. That fine line between love and hate? I was walking it right then. And I was scared shitless at which way I was going to fall.