Page 16 of Overachiever
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I’m glad I decided to come tonight. Bars aren’t really my scene, but I’m having a great time. I’m not a huge drinker, though tonight I’ve made an exception. Serena’s advice to lighten up and have some fun while I’m here may have had something to do with it, plus I’d like some liquid courage to deal with the way Evan has been looking at me all night.
He’s not my boss, just a guy who works for the construction company. It’s not like there’s any reason I can’t go to bed with him. Every time he points that sexy smile in my direction, my resistance fades a little more. He’s older than me, but if Kelly can date her former professor that has nearly ten years on her, then this isn’t exactly taboo.
My attention is drawn away from him when Owen plunks down at the table across from me. His buzz shines bright in his eyes, and his wide smile is contagious. “Having fun?”
“I am.” Swirling my drink around, I hold it up. “I can’t even taste the alcohol in these. Just tastes like strawberry.” My next words have to be nearly shouted since the band has resumed after a break. “Are you having fun?”
“Hell yeah. I beat Weston and Colin at pool. Won forty bucks. Lost ten back to Colin at darts, but in my defense, they plied me with shots beforehand.”
The drums overwhelm us with a quick beat. Owen stands up and grabs my hand. Leaning over, he talks into my ear. “Come and dance with me. And don’t say you can’t dance. I saw you.”
Even the girls can’t get me to dance very often. It isn’t that I’m a terrible dancer, I just feel so self-conscious. For some reason, I haven’t felt that way tonight. Maybe because no one here—outside of Owen, the least judgmental person in the world—really knows me.
After swallowing the last of my drink, I let him pull me onto the dance floor where I end up spending the next hour. Owen and I dance for a couple of songs, but as the dance floor fills up, we switch partners. Shoulder to shoulder with a loud, drunk crowd of mostly college kids like us, I soak in the excitement and let it carry me away. Sometimes, I’m dancing alone or with another girl. Sweat dampens my skin and is instantly dried from the wind that sweeps through from the beach.
Hands land on my hips from behind, and I turn my head to see Evan grinning down at me. “Hey beautiful. Nice moves.”
His arms wrap around my waist when I step back into him. It’s time to summon my inner slutty dancer and it’s surprisingly easy. The beat of the music is low and pulsing, perfect. My eyes close, and I let my hands wander as his do the same while we move together.
When the song ends, he tips my chin back where I can look at him, and I can’t take my eyes off of his mouth until it finds mine. He tastes like whiskey, which isn’t great, but I don’t care. It’s been an amazing night, and I know how I want it to end.
“Come home with me tonight,” he whispers in my ear.
“Okay.”
My instant reply makes him chuckle. “I’ll get us a Rideshare. There’s usually a wait. Want another drink?”
“No, I’m good. I’m going to catch up with Owen and let him know.”
“You two aren’t exclusive, then?”
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s asking. It makes sense, I suppose, since he knows we came together and share a room. “Oh, no, we aren’t…it isn’t like that. We’re just friends and roommates for the summer.”
Evan blinks and shakes his head. “That’s not what he told me.”
“What? What did he say?”
“That you two are a couple. I asked him before we left today. He said you belong to him.” His grin widens. “I had a feeling he was full of shit.”
That asshole. Why would he do that? I’m pissed, but also confused. It doesn’t make sense. My teeth are gritted, but Evan still manages to hear me. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Great, I’ll go order us a Rideshare.”
After he excuses himself, I find Owen at one end of the bar. He’s talking to a few people I don’t know, and I’m a second away from pulling him from the group when a man stumbles behind me and almost falls down. He manages to stay on his feet, but slams into Owen’s shoulder as he rights himself. Once he finds his footing again, he glares at Owen. “What the fuck. You trying to get your ass kicked?”
Owen’s eyebrows climb his forehead, and he leans against the bar. “Not particularly. Is that a common thing in Florida? Guys just standing around hoping someone will kick their ass. I don’t want to kink shame, but that sounds like a mental condition.”
The man stares at Owen, and you can practically see the wheels spinning in his head. It’s doubtful that he comprehended half of that, but he knows the people around him laughed for some reason and that it was likely at his expense.
This could go bad. The guy may be drunk, but he towers over Owen, and probably outweighs him by fifty pounds. My eyes dart around, looking for one of the security guards or bouncers, hoping they’ll notice the situation.
Owen doesn’t seem the least perturbed, even when the man gets in his face. “What the fuck did you say, you little pussy?”
The smile on Owen’s face is wide as he steps back, putting a little space between them. “Hey, no need for name calling.” The man watches, bewildered, while Owen proceeds to kick off one of his shoes and then pulls off a sock. He holds the sock up like an offering. “Friends?”
The man’s whole face is a question mark for a good ten seconds as he stares at the sock dangling in front of his face. It has frogs printed on it. Then he lets out a roar of laughter that’s met with more from all the people watching this bizarre show.
