Scott’s eyes widen when I open the door at his knock. My own probably look the same. He is totally channeling Tom Hiddleston tonight. He looks hot as fuck.

“You look gorgeous, love.” He doesn’t sound super happy about it.

I smile wide at him, determined to ignore his weird mood that apparently still hasn’t worn off. “Thank you. So do you.” His pants hug him in all the right places and his blue shirt makes his eyes pop brighter than normal.

I keep up a steady, excited chatter as I tell him how I got us on the list. “It’s like it was meant to be. All my list items have come together so damn perfectly.

Scott gives a grunt of assent.

I roll my eyes, still ignoring him, trying not to bounce in my seat as he pulls up to the valet station. After he tips the valet girl, I all but fall over myself to be at Scott’s side as we enter the club. I’m so excited to see the legendary Indigo.

My breath catches once we’re inside. It’s every bit as amazing as everyone claims. The live swing band has a DJ adding deep house grooves. Tall gorgeous girls are wearing those necklaces that clearly double as cocaine holder things. Snuff necklaces? Coke necklaces? What was that thing Sarah Michelle Gellar wore in Cruel Intentions?

Men dripping with too much money are buying Ciroc and Dom bottle service at tables draped in gauzy white fabric. Matching panels line the walls, allowing shadows of dancers who are a living part of the décor to appear.

The club is all white, and the staff is dressed in it too. Cocktail waitresses, hostesses, even the Dj and band members are clad in all while.

The ceiling is, as per the name of the club, is a deep indigo. As I watch, I realize the walls are slowly melting dark down to the bottom, the white being erased, morphing into pure indigo.

I tap a passing cocktail waitress on the arm. “What’s with the walls?”

She grins knowingly. “At midnight, the whole place becomes indigo, and the fabric goes away.”

I nod as she smiles again and disappears into the crowd. I raise my brows at Scott. He rolls his eyes, unimpressed with the drama of the place. I’m delighted. The indigo is starting to cast deep shadows on nearby revelers, painting them in the deep purplish-blue color. It’s like magic. How the hell did they set this up? It’s so cool.

Scott seems uncomfortable as he tugs at the collar of his shirt. “Are you sure you really want to throw yourself at a guy everyone here is going to be throwing themselves at?”

I shrug. “That’s the thing. I imagine NOT throwing yourself at him may be the key.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, probably.”

I’d sort of gotten the idea from Scott. The way he got the Professor a little more interested. Guys are simple. They really don’t like feeling like they’re losing a competition. They also really don’t like being ignored.

That’s when Brennan comes out, master of the ceremonies for his little circus, and starts the champagne fountain. He wanders through the crowd, handing out glasses to girls who catch his eye. I sneak glances at him, trying not to be obvious as Scott and I sip our cocktails.

Brennan is good-looking in person, but not movie star hot. Probably why he never got all that far in Hollywood. Girls flutter around him like butterflies at a rosebush. He’s surprisingly selective in the glasses he hands out, all charm and smug smiles.

Scott and I set our empty glasses on a passing tray and join the tons of people on the dance floor. He seems a little more relaxed after having a couple drinks. I smile up at him as he slides his hands around my waist and I wrap mine around his neck.

“This place is pretty insane.”

He looks around the club, his eyes taking it all in. “It is that.”

Slashes of indigo stain his face as we sway to the slow song. He looks good in that color. Who am I kidding? He looks good in every color.

The slow music changes to a high energy swing song, the DJ making it his own with a modern beat thrown in. With a grin, Scott spins me around and we throw ourselves into the dance. My reasons for being here fall away. Thoughts of Brennan falls away. Everything falls away except Scott’s hand in mine. His blue eyes blazing at me. The now indigo color of his suit. The brush of his fingers at my bare back. The dizziness as I spin and spin and spin.

My mouth aches from the laughter I can’t control and the wide grin stamped across my face. The magic of the club infuses us, and it’s hard to break away and come back to ourselves.

We change partners a couple times, always coming back to each other with a crash. My dress swirls around my legs, glittering in the lights, flashing gold and indigo over Scott as he lifts me into the air.

We finally take a break once breathing gets a little hard and we’re both sticky with sweat. Scott grabs us drinks from a passing tray and we sit at a corner high table.

The dance floor looks like a strange version of the twenties and thirties. A sort of time warp as the dresses the women wear flare up, showing off their legs. Champagne flows and bodies merge together and music pumps and writhes through the club.

A woman approaches Scott with a Cheshire cat smile, leading him back to the dancers. He doesn’t even look back. I shove away the pang as I watch them go. Why would it bother me? I’m here to hook up with someone else. Better for him if he actually gets something out of it. I’m determined to be happy for him.

Refusing to watch him, I turn my attention to the band. They’re really good. And the lead singer is pretty hot too. Could he be considered a celebrity? If Brennan doesn’t work out, he looks like fun.

Speak of the devil.

Brennan slinks across the floor in a white suit with indigo cuffs, and a gold tie. “We match.” He hands me a glass a champagne.

“Glad you got the memo.” I take the glass and sip it, keeping my expression cool and uninterested.

He’s clearly thrown by my response, which is just what I wanted. It’s hard keeping the glee from my face. He spends the next ten minutes circling while I finish off the drink and watch the live band, bobbing along to the beat.

Scott walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my middle, pressing a kiss at the back of my ear. I shiver at his touch, though I’m not sure this is the best idea considering I’m trying to hook up with another dude. But I let him pull me onto the dance floor anyway, and we move super close together like we’re horny teens at our first school dance. There’s a different electric charge moving between our bodies from our earlier dancing. We’re closer, our bodies all but plastered against each other.

“What happened to the girl you were dancing with?” I raise a brow, forcing a teasing tone into my voice.

He shrugs. “Not what I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” I frown in confusion. She was hot. And hot for him from what I saw.

“Not her.” He presses his lips into a grim line.

I decide not to press him. Something I’ve been doing more and more lately. I don’t know if it’s because I’m worried about getting into another fight and messing things up between us or if it’s because I’m so focused on my list, I don’t have time to deal with his drama. I hope it’s the former, because otherwise I’m a selfish bitch. But part of me is worried I’ve been a shitty friend to him, bringing him along for the ride like this. If he was a girl, it would be different, but there is an added awkwardness to my best friend being a guy. No matter how close we are and how much we share. Especially since we added sex to our friendship.

He runs his hands up and down my back, dipping lower each time until he all but cups my ass. I consider telling him to stop, but every time his pelvis brushes against mine, I bite my lip. Besides, it worked on the professor. And he smells so damn good.

Suddenly, Brennan is back at my side, pausing our dance. “Do you guys maybe BOTH want to get out of here?”

Well, shit. The local celebrity just turned into the threesome.

Score.