Page 129 of Overcast

I never thoughtI’d end up in a strip club unless it was for a bachelorette party and, even then, I don’t think I would go.

I feel completely out of my element here, but with the jello shots that Mills keeps passing me behind Emric’s back, I’m beginning to mellow out.

No longer am I caught up on how little of an effort I put into my attire compared to the men and women who were dressed up and appeared like they spared more than a few minutes in the mirror.

Me, I strode in here with my white tee, black leggings, and my hair thrown up in a ponytail.

Not that the boys cladded themselves in anything better—they didn’t need to. Each stood out on their own, striding through the club with zero cares in the world while the whole scene took notice—especially the women.

Bishop towered over both of them in a camouflage tee that was rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his structured muscles. Mills went for a more chic look with a fitted black polo and brown buttons that he kept one undone. His shady brown hair is carelessly pushed back, and he looks like trouble.

Fun trouble.

And I was going to get into some if Emric caught me downing a red jello shot after blue. I was quick to find out which was my favorite—red—and that was the kind Mills would grab me from the random trays floating. He’d tip the waitresses that give him a smile in short skirts and tops with their boobs hanging out. A damn tease when he said he wasn’t available for a dance or “special” drink.

Whatever that means, even though...I’m not that dumb.

And then you have Emric, the most captivating one of the three.

In an Oakland Raiders hat and black flannel, he keeps his eyes scanning the place with Bishop at his side. His brawny shoulders offset everyone else’s besides his broody buddy’s, commanding the room and every group of females as we walk by.

I hang back on purpose to see how he’ll react normally, learning how he is around ordinary people in a not-so-everyday place.

He’s the same.

Closed off, not in the mood for pleasantries, and emits an unapproachable vibe. Bishop and Emric together dominate the room while Mills hangs back with me, not needing to be like either of them because he’s an entity all on his own.

And while the two of them are in their, whatever it is you want to call it, Mills and I are downing shots and pink drinks like college students.

However, we need to watch how far off we step to obtain them.

The moment Emric notices that I’m not within his peripheral, his hazel eyes quickly locate me before flicking to Mills with a scowl. Then he returns back to his scouting for what Mills calls my doppelganger.

We’ve circled the place, I’m not sure how many times, while Bishop and Emric stop to ask people questions. And in the middle of swallowing a cherry jello shot, Bishop pivots on his heels.

“Alright, well...that was a bust. Time to go home.”

I drop the evidence of the plastic container before Emric turns himself, still scanning the area as Bishop shoves his meaty hands into his jean pockets.

Mills shrugs, finding the center of my back with his palm. “Since we’re here, let’s go sit down and have a few drinks.”

“No,” Bishop retorts. “I want to get out of here before I need a tetanus shot.”

“And you could use a lap dance.”

“It’s getting late,” Emric chimes in. “Let’s go ahead and get Stormi home.”

“I want to stay,” I deadpan, feeling a new sensation of fluttering in my head.

Bishop shifts his weight, more than likely annoyed, and Emric stares at me blankly like I just told him I like to sniff white-out or Sharpies.

“This isn’t your scene,” he conveys flatly. “The later we stay the more—”

“I’ve been coupled up with you three boneheads for—how long has it been?” I cock my head to the side, not missing the way Emric’s eyes lock in on the column of my neck. “I think I’ve deserved some fun.”

“I think so too,” Mills agrees, earning him a glare from Bishop and Emric. “You only took her out once. Chick needs to let her hair down.” He playfully yanks on my hair, and Emric steps forward.

“Are you two fucking drunk?” His brows fall, studying me as though I’m going to rat my own self out and blab.

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