Page 13 of The Promises We Break

Oh. My. God.

My eyes bulge and my jaw drops.

This man is huge. His skin is smooth and dark, and really, really oily. His legs are the size of tree trunks, and his midsection the width of a goddamn refrigerator. Every inch of his body is hard ropes of muscles, in areas I had no idea muscles were supposed to be. He is wearing a neon green g-string that covers nothing. Nothing. It’s like a mini sock for his not-so-mini penis.

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

When I am finally able to tear my eyes away from his body and look at his face, I’m stunned to discover he has the kindest baby face I have ever seen, contrasting his hard body. In thebackground, the music fades and a loud booming voice introduces the man as Bear.

Fitting.

Nerves get the best of me, and I whiplash my face to the floor. I stare down at the ground to avoid looking at him. There is a crumpled one-dollar bill that has caught my attention and I hyperfocus on it. I wonder if you shine a UV light on it, if it would light up like Times Square.

Bear’s foot lands on top of the poor abused dollar bill. As it splays out under his foot, a small corner peeks out from underneath his big toe. I’m too focused on that to notice Bear’s crooked finger touch my collarbone and trail upward to my chin, lifting it slowly. His hips are at the exact level of my face, so I have a front and center view of his crotch. All I see is green. Bright, bumpy, and blinding neon green.

Mortified, I cover my face with my hands to create a barrier between his monstrosity of an appendage. But because I’m human, and can’t look away from a pending car crash, I spread my fingers and peek through the slits to see Kilo come up to my left and Bear step ever so slightly to my right.

Oh. God.

I can’t handle one of these guys, much less two. Letting my hands slip from my face, I lean my neck back to look at the girls and point to the chair next to me, mouthing ‘Get your ass in the chair.’

They are drunk. Screaming drunk. Laughing and happy as can be, waving their hands in the air, egging on the dancers.

I am going to kill them.

Dana’s face scrunches up as she ducks to look in between one of the dancer’s rooted legs, which catches my attention, forcing me to follow her line of sight.

Opposite the stage is Hudson. His body language is frantic, and his arms are flailing all over the place as he talks to his dark-haired friend, who looks like he could murder someonewith his pinky finger. The dark-haired friend shakes his head, grabs Hudson’s bicep with one hand, then splays out his other hand toward the alcohol table. Hudson clearly hates whatever idea he’s suggesting because, instead, he plants his hands on the stage, pushing himself up onto it.

What is he doing?

As his feet touch the stage, his shoe lands on another stray one-dollar bill. His foot slips from underneath him, slamming his chest and chin into the stage. His face scrunches up, and I can’t help but wince and do the same, because Jesus, that looked painful.

Ouch.

Kilo and Bear hear the collision and turn around just in time to see Hudson recovering as he pushes himself upright in forward momentum. His legs roadrunner in front of him, stumbling over each other, before plopping down in the seat next to mine.

Concern, confusion, and relief are mixed into one all-encompassing facial expression as I turn to look at him. By instinct, my hand lands on top of his thigh, which feels like a comfort for both of us at this point. He glances down at my hand before his gaze meets mine.

“What are you doing?” I scream at him over the music.

He leans in closer to me, sliding his hand over the top of mine.

“If anyone is touching you tonight, it’s me.”

Then shifts forward in his seat, facing the crowd with his spine ramrod straight, still holding his hand over mine.

Bear appraises us. Looking down at our connected hands, then to our faces that are still staring straight ahead, avoiding all eye contact with anything, then back at Kilo in a systematic routine. He steps back, pulling Kilo with him, whispering something.

The alcohol is starting to kick in, as the sounds around usaren’t nearly as overwhelming as they were before. I know there are a ton of people in the crowd tonight, but from the lit up stage, it’s hard to see everyone clearly. Or maybe that’s the alcohol too.

At least I’m not feeling as nervous as I was earlier. Actually, that is probably the alcohol as well.

Kilo grabs a microphone from someone at the side of the stage and pauses, giving the crowd a bit of a tease. Putting it to his mouth, then pulling it down, smiling before repeating. The crowd is screaming and way too excited and I wish I had any clue as to what they are doing. I’m assuming we are both getting lap dances, on stage, in front of everyone, which brings another heatwave to my cheeks, making them blush further. They will probably hold nothing back, especially with Hudson.

Dana slides two full shot glasses across the stage that stop just shy of my left foot. Pulling my hand from Hudson’s tight grasp, I lean down, pick them up, and then pass one to him.

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