Grantley
The music was loud, the drinks flowing, and Phoebe was dancing like no one was watching her. She wasn’t the best dancer, but the joy it gave her was evident as she bounced around, singing along to every song. I’d tried to keep up with her but after almost two hours, I needed a break, so I was watching her from our private booth.
God love Marcia, I’d texted her that we were going to the club, and despite the hour and that she’d left the restaurant in a less than stellar mood, she’d called on ahead for us. We were guided to our table by a hostess in a tight black skirt and crisp white blouse, who then advised me that our bill had been paid for by my agent.
You see, the woman did love me after all.
As the song changed, Phoebe whooped with excitement and came running to me.
“Grantley come and dance. It’s a remix of Freedom by Wham.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I reached up and pushed sticky hair from her sweaty face.
“Wham! George Michael?”
“Oh yeah, I know who he is.”
“This is Wham, so come on. Dance.”
She grabbed hold of my hand and dragged me up onto the dancefloor, holding my hands as she jumped around like Tigger. Her elation was infectious and I found myself singing along to the chorus, which I had to say weren’t George’s best lyrics. As Freedom finally flowed into some dance tune, I pulled Phoebe against me and kissed her hard. I kissed her as though I’d never get to kiss her again. I kissed her with a need I’d never felt before. But as my hands moved to her ass, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
If this was someone recognizing me and wanting a damn selfie with me, I would not be happy. I ignored the tapping for a little while, but it was insistent. Groaning, I pulled my lips from Phoebe’s and looked over my shoulder. A tall guy with a shaved head, wearing a collared shirt and vest, was looking at me with raised brows.
“Yeah?” I asked, tucking Phoebe under my arm.
“No petting on the dancefloor,” he shouted loudly into my ear, making it buzz. “If you want to do that go get a room.”
“You’re kidding right?”
He shook his head and silently thumbed in the direction of the exit.
“Okay, okay. No petting on the dancefloor.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
As he strutted away, Phoebe started to giggle.
“I’ve never been told off in a nightclub before.”
“Certainly not for petting.” I shook my head and taking Phoebe by the hand, dragged her back to our booth. “Maybe it’s time for a break anyway.”
We flopped down onto the leather seat, with Phoebe snuggling up to my side. I kissed the side of her dance sweaty head and took a drink from my beer bottle.
“You had a good time?” I asked her.
Phoebe grinned, lifting her own bottle of beer. “The best. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Marcia. She’s paying.”
“You see, I told you she was sweet.”
“Well I’m not so sure about that.”
I dropped a kiss to her lips that tasted of beer and sat back in the booth. Stretching my arm around the back, I drew circles on Phoebe’s shoulder with my thumb. Her black and white stripe dress was sleeveless and showed off her tanned, toned arms, as well as those spectacular legs of hers, and I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been snapped up before now.
“When was your last relationship?” I asked.
Phoebe looked at me quizzically. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason, just interested.”
“You sure?” She half turned in her seat, and put her bottle down on the table. “It’s a bit out of the blue, you asking.”
I shrugged. “I guess I’m curious why you don’t already have a guy.”
“I suppose it’s because I’m not the relationship sort of girl.”
“I don’t for one minute think you’re a one night stand sort of girl either.” I thought about what she’d said, about not being ready for the next step, even if she slept in my bed.
“I’m not. I suppose you could say I’m the cautious sort of girl. After what happened to Beth, I don’t want to find myself in the same position.”
I ran my fingers through her hair and studied her pretty face wondering how this thing between us had happened. I’d thought she was a pain in the ass at first, but within days she had me bewitched, yet she hadn’t even tried to.
“Not all men are like your sister’s douche of an ex, you know.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But she was devastated, Grantley. She was absolutely heart-broken and if it hadn’t been for the boys, I dread to think what she would have done.”
Phoebe’s eyes filled with tears and the very real fear of what Beth might have done was evident in the way she pulled in a shuddering breath.
“I’ll try not to hurt you,” I whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth.
“The fact you said that actually makes me feel a little hopeful.” She gave me a small smile and then looked out toward the dancefloor. “You didn’t say you wouldn’t hurt me, but you’d try not to.”
“Because I will – try not to, I mean.”
She turned back to me, her eyes soft and warm. “Which is more damn honest than saying you won’t.”
Phoebe’s warm lips landed on mine, and stayed there for a few seconds before she slowly pulled away.
“I need the loo,” she announced.
“Okay. Nice to know.”
We both laughed as Phoebe pushed back along the seat to the edge of the booth.
“Won’t be long.”
As she walked away, I watched her carefully. There was no strut or hair flicking to attract attention, she was just Phoebe. She had no hidden agenda, as far as I could see, and she was the most open person I’d ever known. I’d known her for a few weeks and yet I felt like I could trust her implicitly and I knew that I didn’t want to let her go – definitely not in a month’s time, and maybe not ever.