Page 23 of Defending Madison

“That’s okay. Why don’t we grab a table and get to know each other?”

“I came to dance with friends.”

His face scrunches up as Lily and her posse join me at the bar. Her look frightens the man, and he steps away. “I can’t leave you alone for a moment that you don’t find trouble.”

My brows come together. “Trouble?”

She leans up on her tiptoes. “He’s a regular creep.”

I laugh. “Figures. I seem to draw those.”

The bartender sets down my drink and takes the ladies’ orders. I sip the nectar with just a kick of alcohol, smiling. I’m not a heavy drinker as it doesn’t work to do that in-season, but I like an occasional cocktail.

“Have you been here long?”

I smile at Lily’s best friend, Mia Campbell. “No. Just got here.”

She motions down toward my knee. “It’s good?”

“Yeah. I guess I start practice with Dauntless tomorrow.”

Various women squeal in delight as Mia nods. “Lily mentioned you were here for good.”

I shrug. “We’ll see. I can be traded at any time.”

“You won’t be.” Mia leans in. “You’re just what the team needs to get them to the next level.”

I can’t answer because Lily pulls my arm and drags me to the dance floor. “Dance.” I tip my head to drop my hair down my back and absorb the loud, pulsing music. My knee has just a touch of stiffness. I’m incredibly lucky the ACL surgery was successful. I shimmy down and back up, comfortable on my three-inch heels, even though they make me even taller. I’ve learned to embrace my size. Men join our group of women and dance with us. No one specifically engages me, and I’m happy with the chance to just hang out and have fun.

We’ve been dancing for twenty minutes. Gorgeous couples, well dressed and happy, grind into each other. Lily’s fiancé joins her on the floor, and her excitement at seeing her man is palpable. Am I missing out on that? He’s a pro athlete, she’s an agent. They’re busy but the fireworks they’re sharing shows they make it work. A few more single men enter the dance floor, and I’m dreading the usual type of man who’ll feel comfortable touching me. As though my thought manifested it, a hand slips along my hip. I sigh, knowing the man from earlier has crawledback. I make eye contact for a moment without a smile and edge my hip away from his hand as I maneuver myself to the other side of the dance floor, easing in between two of the friends Lily brought. The music shifts into my favorite techno beat. I catch the rhythm as I throw up my arms.

That man’s fingers pull into my hip as his second hand grasps my other. Enough. I turn and glare at the man. “Hands off.”

He laughs. His sneer confirms he’s the bully kind, and not someone I should know. I stop dancing to step back, crossing my arms as he laughs louder, his fake smile turning into a sneer. His hand outstretches as I step back into a hard chest. The man behind me is taller than I am. His masculine, woodsy scent catches my nose as he gently eases me around him and stands before the bully. Words are exchanged, and I don’t stick around. It figures Dixon would be there to intervene. I step to the bar. A second drink is called for after that.

The DJ changes the mood by changing the beat. Loud bass thumps through the club. Bright colored lights slam along the walls. Reds, blues, and bright white remind me of a Fourth of July celebration and I can almost taste the cool, ripe watermelon we have every year.

Sauntering up to the bar, the cute bartender smiles as I tick my head up mouthing, ‘drink’. She nods as I sit on a stool. Dixon will find me and stick his nose in my business. I feel him move next to me and take the seat. He leans closer. “Are you okay?”

I nod as the bartender sets down my drink. “I’m fine. That’s not the first time some random bully has put his hands on me.”

He growls and the sound catches my full attention. “No one puts their damn hands on you unless you want them to.”

I roll my eyes. “You should have been born a woman. We deal with this shit all the time. You’d think they’d be afraid of someone my size, but no, that seems to be an invitation for some guys.”

He exhales. “I was hoping to get the chance to talk to you.”

I cock my head. “This really isn’t much different from putting your hands on me when I don’t want it on the dance floor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve got no interest in dealing with you anymore than some bully troll.”

His chuckle has a thread of hurt and I cringe. “I get it. We’re going to see each other. It would be best if it wasn’t awkward.”

I turn in my stool and face him. “Okay. What?”

He puts out his hand. “Can we move to the balcony so we can talk without screaming?”

---