Page 59 of He Falls First

Later that night, the pulsing bass of the club surrounds us, vibrating through my body. It’s dark, with alternating lights changing the dance floor from orange to red to blue and back. The girls and I make our way through the swaying bodies to the bar.

“You look amazing!” Cora grins, appraising me from head to toe.

I glance down at the tight, low-cut dress Allison loaned me, paired with strappy heels that boost me up. It’s a much racier outfit than anything I’d normally wear, but I have to admit, I feel sexy in it. Like I could turn heads if I really tried.

As we claim a small standing table, I take a deep breath and remind myself of Hendrix’s lessons on projecting confidence. Stand tall, make eye contact, and smile just enough to pique their interest. But remembering his advice only makes me think about him.

I don’t want strangers checking me out—I only want Hendrix. I want to catch him in that slow, commanding gaze that he rakes over my body when he can’t look away.

But it’s other men who are stealing glances my way as we order our drinks. I blush instinctively, but force myself to meet their gazes. A couple of them smile back.

It’s flattering—and it means absolutely nothing to me right now. What a waste.

“Girl, you’ve got them eating out of your hand,” Cora says, nudging me and gesturing at a group of guys nearby.

“See?” Allison says, smirking. “I told you this would be good for you.”

“Maybe,” I admit, taking a sip of my cocktail. “But I still can’t stop thinking about you-know-who.”

“Focus on having fun and enjoying yourself,” Cora suggests. “Hendrix will see what he’s missing soon enough.”

Fun. I remember fun, right? I’ve only been sad since this afternoon, but somehow it feels like forever. I take a long blink to shut out the flashing lights and get my bearings when I hear a voice behind me.

“Elizabeth? Wow.”

For a split second, my heart leaps, hoping it’s Hendrix. But as I turn around, I come face to face with Aaron. He’s the guy who dumped me unceremoniously a few months ago, and he looks just like he did when I last saw him, flannel shirt and outdated spiked hair and all.

“Hey, Aaron.” I try to keep up the whole coy smiling thing, but I’m feeling a little weird now, seeing an old boyfriend while wearing clothes that aren’t mine and projecting a whole new attitude.

He looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my legs—and again when he hits my cleavage.

“You look… different,” he says, clearly impressed. “Incredible, actually.”

“Thanks.”

“How’ve you been?” He leans in close. I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Good. Busy with work.” I take a small step back.

“I always knew you’d do great things.” He touches my arm lightly. “What do you say we get out of here? Catch up?”

The old me would’ve swooned at the validation, like his approval gives me reason to like myself. I might have jumped at the chance to reconnect just to prove something to myself.

But I don’t need that anymore. I like myself plenty without his approval. And anyway, he’s not just reacting to how I look. It’s how I carry myself. And that confidence comes from within.

I glance over at Allison and Cora, who are watching from a distance. Now I know I deserve better than this. Better than someone who only wants me when I look “different.”

So I gently remove his hand from my arm. “I’m here with my friends tonight,” I tell him firmly. “But it was nice seeing you, Aaron.”

Suddenly, a large hand grips my upper arm from behind. I whirl around, ready to tell off whatever drunk patron is pawing at me.

But then my eyes meet Hendrix’s stormy gaze, and I freeze.

He’s appeared out of nowhere. He slides his arm around my waist possessively, narrowing his eyes at Aaron.

“Sorry, buddy, she’s with me,” Hendrix growls, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Aaron takes a step back, his hands up in surrender.

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