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The accident happened almost four years ago, but the memories still haunt me to this day, and I imagine they will until the day I die. You can’t be responsible for someone’s death and not feel the ghost of it haunting you for the rest of your life.
I splash some water on my face, intentionally dragging my mind from those heavy thoughts. Allowing myself to think on it, to dwell on it, isn’t something I do too often anymore. And it isn’t something I want to be doingnow,in a bathroom at a fucking club.
I step out of the men’s room and am halted immediately by a slim hand at my chest. Purple polish glinting against soft lighting. Too bad for whoever this girl is, but I’m not interested. I peel her hand from my body and resist the urge to toss it out of my hold, setting it down at her side instead. I’ve no clue what it is about me that gives women the impression they can touch me whenever and however they please, but I have zero qualms with quickly making it clear that isn’t the case.
Her mouth opens and closes and opens again in a silentoh,frown lines marring her otherwise put-together face.
I don’t stick around long enough to watch her pull herself together, my feet carrying me forward and back into the action of the club. Two more girls attempt to catch my attention with the same fate before I reach the ropes of the VIP. I sink back down into the same corner of the couch I occupied only minutes ago, pulling my phone from my pocket and paying no mind to anyone else in the club.
______
The sound of Declan’s laughter skips up my spine, and I tighten my grip, fingers clenched around the dark screen of my phone. No matter how intent I am on ignoring her presence, I can’t. And for whatever reason, it’s fucking irritating.
I don’t know what it is about this girl that so easily sets me off. But thereissomething about her. Something that reminds me of my past, dragging me four years prior into a place I’ve long fought to distance myself from.
If I’m being wholly honest, in some twisted, fucked up way, she reminds me of Brenna.
Not her looks, nor her demeanor, but the weight, the burden, of life that’s settled behind her gaze.
Huh.I push out a biting breath of laughter. I suppose I do know what it is about her that puts me on edge, then. It’s either that or the way she looks at me, burrowing deeper with one stare than anyone should have the right to. Digging my demons from the ground and forcing me to revisit them when I thought I’d permanently buried them.
Tension settles deeper into my body, tightening my muscles.
When the volume of Declan’s laughter rises higher, I clear my throat, shifting my position on the couch. My chest tightenswith an emotion just out of reach before it loosens again at the realization that I like the sound of her laughter.
The fuck?The thought darkens my mood further.
Yet despite my will not to, my gaze shifts upward, landing on her from across the roped-off section we occupy, drifting up her long legs and halting at the short hem of her dark and flowy dress. Laced-up Docs grace her feet unlike every other girl in this club who wears heels as high as they can walk in. I can admit I like that sort of thing. What I don’t like, however, is the way my attention keeps snagging on her, hooked on thoughts of her, on her conversation with Boss and Addy. And not for the first time tonight.
They’ve been discussingBloodborne,the game they played at the loft last night, and whether I want to acknowledge it or not, my interest has been piqued—beyond my obvious attraction to her. She’s intelligent. Witty. Quick with her comebacks. And she actually knows what the fuck she’s talking about when it comes to gaming. Her words a steady stream of facts about strategy, skill, up-and-coming players in the community, etcetera.
I’m not surprised. She kicked Boss’s ass without a sweat. But still, it’s impressive.
Her renewed bout of laughter drags my gaze up to her face.A fucking gorgeous face, for the record.I let my stare travel her features, roaming over peaks and shadows I sat only inches from last night.
Deep blue eyes, soft features, and an even softer mouth.
The honesty that poured from mine was unintentional, the need to help her in what small way I felt I could outweighing my usual need to keep my shit bottled up tight.
Still haven’t riddled that one out yet.
Still don’t want to.
That, or the need to push closer, taste her, fucking consume her.
I shake away the thought—and the physical urge rushing through my veins.
Now, under the dim lighting of the club, I can spot the flush in her cheeks, the glassy look in her eyes from how much alcohol her and Addy have tossed back, and it’s a one-eighty from the girl I found on the balcony last night.
Her ease. Her comfortability.
That fucking laugh.
It dances on the edge of my sanity, making a mockery of my will. I bury my already-building frustration beneath a hard clench of my teeth. A muscle ticks in my jaw as my grip on my phone tightens. Promise to Brenna or not, I’m seconds from walking away, from removing myself from this annoying sense of inner fucking turmoil when it comes to this girl, when Addy’s voice clears the short distance of the VIP.
“Why don’t you come over here, Jude? Stop being a moody asshole just because you’re attracted to Declan but won’t do anything about it,” she says, calling me on my shit.
Can’tdo anything about it, but I don’t correct her.