Page 1 of Not A Whisper

One

From my vantage point, I can see out over the crowded bar. The place is packed to the brim with friends and couples, all ready to celebrate the coming of a new year. Blue and white lights mimic ice on the walls and on the dance floor. The fake icicles and paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling complete the look.

The DJ is dressed in a winter jacket up on stage, lined with fur, snow pants and wearing heavy snow boots. He’s even managed to snag a pair of snow goggles from somewhere. Each time my eyes land on him, I pity the performer. I’m sweltering hot in my strapless, knee high red dress—a gift from the guys that had arrived on my doorstep three days ago. I can’t imagine he’s faring very well in a jacket.

My eyes snap toward the entrance to the bar for the umpteenth time.

There’s only ten minutes until the ball drops and my guysstillaren’t here yet. I itch to reach out and text them. The only reason I haven’t is that Jason mentioned they were getting newnumbers about a week ago when he came to see me between classes.

“We’re pretty sure Garry’s been spying on us through our phones. Just wait until you hear from us before texting anymore.”

His warning came just before his fingers dove into my core and brought me to a swift and powerful orgasm between two familiar bookshelves on the third floor.

Since then, I have only received this dress and a note that came with it that read:

Meet us at Crimson's New Year's eve. See you at midnight. - G. J. T.

I pullout my phone from my clutch, double checking that I haven’t missed anything. Nope, no notifications, no missed calls. My heart slowly starts to sink. There’s only so much alcohol and so much dancing a person can do alone before one realizes they’ve been stood up. With a heavy sigh, I slip away from the railing of the balcony and make my way over to the bar. Up here, most of the patrons are just lingering around, talking to one another while they anxiously await the ball’s drop on the multiple televisions mounted on the walls.

The bar is less crowded up here which is nice, so when I approach, it’s easy to flag down a bartender. A cute blue drink is shoved in my hand after cash is transferred over, and I hum as I take a sip. This is my, what? Fourth one of these? God, they aredelicious.

“Hey.”

I turn to the person beside me, straw still in my mouth. Then I tilt my head up. Holy cow. The man beside me is ridiculously tall, with smooth dark brown skin, a shiny bald head, and a thick dark goatee. With wide shoulders, thick arms, and an almost barrel chest, the man is impressive, to say the least. Did it suddenly get extra hot in here?

"Hi," I greet, letting go of the straw to reply.

"Mind if I join you for a drink?" he calls over the music.

I take a sip of my drink before answering, my mouth suddenly dry. When my thirst is quenched, I answer. "As long as you don't expect a kiss when the ball drops."

When the stranger grins, his white teeth are striking against his dark skin. "You know, as beautiful as you are, I'm a little old fashioned. I prefer to have a conversation and get to know someone before I bestow upon them the blessing of my lips."

His answer is so unexpected and charming that I laugh. He grins before offering me his hand.

"I'm Lance Boucher."

I take another sip of my drink before I place it down and shake his hand. His engulfs mine. It’s hard to fight the shiver of awareness that rushes through me.

"Briella Wilson." I pause before adding. "You can call me Bri."

"Well, Bri, what's your excuse for why you’re not cutting it up on the dance floor with your friends?" Lance asks, leaning on his forearms onto the bar. He waves down the bartender as he waits for my response.

I shrug. “I’ve been dancing for the past two hours, but my friends never showed up. What about you? Why aren’t you down there with everyone?”

The bartender slides a beer down the counter and Lance catches it before throwing down some cash. Together, we move away, allowing others to take our spot.

“I’m definitely not a dancer. The only reason I’m here is because my friend invited me, but she just dipped out with her ex, leaving me to suffer alone.”

"Oh!" I gape at him before remembering to close my mouth. "I'm sorry. That really sucks."

"I guess we have some crappy friends,” he chuckles with an unperturbed shrug. “It's alright. I just moved to Groveton, you know the city over from here? But she brought us here to avoid the college kids. I appreciate her showing me around, but this isn't really my thing, and I think she knew that. " He sighs and takes a long drink. "At least she ditched me in a decent bar. The last one we were at, when we were still in the Groveton city limits, had sticky floors and a man with no teeth wandering around gumming people and growling. The bartender only laughed."

He laughs with me this time as I throw my head back at the image he’s painted.

"No! That sounds terrible."

Lance grimaces. "It wasn't great. I was afraid I may have moved to the wrong place."

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