Page 14 of Unleashing Chaos

Four

DESI

After that night with Cannon, I met a few guys from the dating app, and while none of them held my attention for long, I didn’t scare any of them away or send them running to the vet to tend to their dying pet reptile. They’re all handsome and perfectly nice, but not one intrigued me enough to arrange a second date. So far, the one good date I’ve had was the practice one with Cannon.

I finish my after-dinner treat—a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream mixed with the brownies Meredith brought over this afternoon—and when I pull the dishwasher open to put my bowl in, I groan. It’s full of clean dishes.

If I were at home, all it would take is a snap of my fingers and all the dishes would be put away in seconds flat. I glance over my shoulder to see Jace sitting on the couch watching a documentary about the evolution of sci-fi movies. I can’t risk him catching me in the act of using my divine power, so I heave a sigh and unload the dishes the old-fashioned—normal—way.

When I get to the cups, I open the cupboard and wrinkle my nose. All of them are sitting with the inside exposed to the elements. I peek around the door to make sure he isn’t looking and tap my finger to the shelf. In the blink of an eye, they’ve all flipped upside down. With a satisfied grin, I continue my work.

“Umm, what are you doing?”

I rise onto my tiptoes and slide the last cup into the cupboard before closing it and turning around. “Unloading the dishwasher so I can put my dirty bowl in. What are you doing?”

“Watching you put the cups in the cabinet the wrong way. You’re putting the part that touches my mouth on the bottom,” Jace says.

I roll my eyes and place my hands on my hips. “If you leave them right side up, all the dust that floats around in every cabinet is landing inside the cup where you put your drink and then you’re drinking it!”

He gives me a pointed glare and his voice is a low rumble as he says, “Desi, put the cups the right way.”

I want to fight, to push my point. His way of storing the cups is asinine, and it needs to be fixed. You need a place to live, Desi, I tell myself before I lose my temper. “Yes, sir,” I mutter, turning away from him and opening the cabinet to please the man of the house.

“Thank you,” he says, stepping beside me to rinse out his bowl.

I flip the last cup and say in a clipped tone, “Not a problem.” I shut the cabinet with a little too much force and flee to my room.

This past week with Jace has been frustrating to say the least. There are times when I feel like I can do nothing right around him. Granted, tonight I pissed him off on purpose. But earlier in the week he got irritated when I didn’t fold the blanket over the arm of the couch and left it on the back instead, and when I left a dryer sheet inside the dryer. Like, aren’t there bigger things for him to worry about?

Not to mention, I feel incredibly creepy about watching him get undressed the other night, half-drunk on tequila or not. That’s putting me on edge too. It’s just an awkward situation, and I’m disappointed in myself. I promised there would be no drama, yet I can’t help but skate close to the line. The demon in me wants to flip his organized world upside and turn all the cups the right way.

I need to get out of the house and get some air. Keeping up appearances is exhausting. Not to mention, Jace’s rigid way of doing things goes against the core of who I am. I need to let loose and thrive in a little chaos. What better place than a nightclub? I just want to get a drink and dance. I consider texting Cannon to join me after he gets done with work but change my mind. He won’t dance with me, and I don’t want to leave him by himself while I’m off having fun.

Slipping on a low-cut purple halter, I pull my hair over my shoulders and paint myself into my skintight jeans. I do a quick smoky eye and highlight my cheekbones, the knee-high boots and leather jacket I’m wearing adding a certain edge to my outfit that I haven’t shown on any of my dates. Maybe it’ll keep the boring guys far away and bring on the more exciting options.

When I go downstairs, Jace is nowhere to be seen, and I’m glad. I don’t want to answer any questions about where I’m going or feel like I’m being scrutinized for my decisions. I just need to get away.

Thirty minutes later, after using the Google Jace taught me about the other day, I’m at a club on the other side of town called Apex Fusion, and after showing the fake ID Lux had made for me and paying the cover charge, I’m ushered inside. The flashing lights, vape fumes, and thumping bass consume my senses, and I’m immediately in my element.

The dance floor is crowded, and so is the bar, but I make my way to the bartender and order a gin and tonic. Moving to a less crowded area, I lean against a high-top table and sip my drink, watching the couples dance and grind against each other, and my body itches to be on the floor with them.

A man with coiffed blond hair leans on my table, his brown eyes slowly skimming over my body. Unlike many of the other men here, he’s dressed in a designer button-up and slacks that cling to his muscular thighs. I can almost count the bulging muscles through his clothes.

“What’s a gorgeous woman like you doing watching everyone on the dance floor? You should be out there,” he says, flashing me a wide smile.

I raise an eyebrow and set down my glass, mirroring his posture and propping my chin in my palm. “Well, maybe I was waiting for you to come ask me.” I know I’m laying it on thick, but this guy looks like exactly what I’m searching for—outgoing, put together, and handsome.

“I’m Patrick.”

“Desi.”

He holds his palm out to me and says, “Would you care to dance, Desi?”

“I’d love to.” I abandon my drink and follow him into the crowd.

Patrick places a hand on my waist, and the pulsating bodies press us close. His palm slides down my hip and around to the curve of my ass. Before I can even move to put space between us, the tips of his fingers dig into the plump flesh, urging me forward. His body sways to the beat, forcing mine to meet his movements, and his leg slips between my thighs. Leaning in until his lips brush my ear, he says, “You are hands down the hottest girl here.”

My breath catches as he puts pressure on the apex of my legs with his thigh. Under different circumstances, with a different man who asked permission, I have no doubt it would feel good, but right now, it just feels . . . gross. This is not okay; everything in my body is screaming at me to get away from this guy.

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