Page 24 of Love Undiscovered
Chapter 6
Remi
I can feel him watching my ass as I walk away. I can’t tell if I like it or not. He infuriates me to no end. I can’t stand his cockiness or his attitude, and he’s rude too. How the man has ever been laid is beyond me.
Except that most women really are idiots.
I turn back to look at our table as I stand in line at the bar, relieved to see that both couples have returned from dancing, Brad and Kat, and Ethan and Lexie. Kat is on Brad’s lap and he’s nuzzling her neck, making her squirm ever so slightly.
I admire what they have. It would never work for me, but I’m happy they have it. I can’t imagine having to deal with the same man every day. Having him know your schedule, your habits, how you spend your down time, what you’re like on your period, what you look like first thing in the morning, and how you smell after working out. All of it just sounds nauseating and exhausting. When do you get a break?
But Brad and Kat are all in. Like all the fucking way in. And it doesn’t seem to bother Kat at all. He’s seen her at her best and her absolute worst, I mean, he’s held her hair back when she’s vomited. A shiver of disgust runs through me.
Chance looks up from talking to Lexie and catches my eye from across the room. I look away quickly and turn back toward the front of the line. There was a time when he held my hair back when I vomited.
God, I can’t think of anything worse than that night. Anything more demeaning. But, I’ll give him credit, he’d handled it well.
It was almost ten years ago now. And still the most humiliating thing I’ve ever experienced.
My roommate had convinced me to go to a party with her, considering my normal Friday night consisted of books or movies, a party was completely out of my norm. Our college’s rugby team was all the rage, and they’d won some sort of championship, so the celebration was huge. And, in a house filled with girls wearing tiny denim short-shorts, and cut-off U of C Rugby shirts and jerseys, my outfit stood out.
I was used to standing out, my style had (and has) never conformed to the fashion of the time I’m in. But this night was a little different. It made me feel almost self-conscious about how I looked.
My roommate assured me I looked great, but black cigarette pants, white/black polka dot halter, and peep-toe heels don’t exactly blend in a room filled with shirtless, sweaty men playing beer pong and passing around scantily clad co-eds like they were candy.
I noticed Chance right away. He stood inches above everyone else and was more filled out than almost all of the other guys. In fact, compared to a lot of them, he looked downright huge, towering over them in height and with the shoulder width of a linebacker, not a college student. He was tan, with a light smattering of hair in the middle of his chest and across his pecs. And a happy trail leading all the way down his chiseled abs into his low hanging shorts. His hair was a little curly and obviously damp, slicked back from his forehead by his hands. I wondered if it was wet from a shower, sweat, or beer.
He was holding on to the legs of some guy doing a keg stand with one arm, the other arm was around a little blonde girl who was literally preening from the attention. The group around the keg made room for me as I approached. I knew the moment that Chance saw me, even though I didn’t know who he was at the time. He left the blonde, dropped the keg stander’s legs, and dramatically knelt down before me.
“My Queen!” he bellowed as he leaned down and kissed my feet.
Queen?
Is he talking to me? Why is he kissing my feet?
Is this normal for parties?
I looked around for my roommate, but she seemed to have disappeared into the crowd. Chance bounced back to his feet, surprisingly spry for such a big, and probably inebriated, guy.
“Yens, a beer for My Queen!” he yelled to the guy manning the keg, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Aye, aye Captain,” the guy yelled back.
“I’ve been waiting all night for you,” he said to me.
Not knowing what else to say, I responded with, “I just got here.”
“Then let’s not waste any time.” And with that, he grabbed me by the waist, as though I weighed nothing, and perched me atop his broad shoulder.
“What the fuck!?!” I yelled down at him.
“Hold still My Queen, or you’ll fall,” he said.
“I won’t fall if you put me down,” I said trying to squirm off his shoulder while grasping his forehead with both arms for balance at the same time. Noticing that he smelled good, not sweaty or like stale beer.
“Your shoe, Milady,” another guy said as he slipped my right shoe off my foot.
“Hey, bring that back!” I yelled.
