Page 5 of Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake
“Then I’ll be right back,” he said, rapping his knuckles on the bar.
“Try to think of some better lines while you’re gone,” Lizzie called to his retreating back, smiling at the wave he gave her.
She sipped her drink, warming at the thoughts of what came next.
Sex calmed her restless mind in a way nothing else did, and she threw herself into it like an enthusiastic hobbyist. Some people had yoga, some had meditation, others kickboxing or knitting. Lizzie had sex.
She loved the rush of someone new, the puzzle of how to get what she wanted, and the freedom of doing it all without emotional attachments. Lizzie was sensitive by nature, but she’d long ago figured out a way to detach from the pesky feelings that people often attached to sex. You couldn’t get hurt if you went in knowing it was only a one-off, a means to an orgasmic end. Feelings couldn’t be stepped on if you were in control of the duration of the encounter and the rules surrounding it. She’d structured the entirety of her “dating” life around that philosophical pillar. She was basically a modern, horny Descartes.
Her mind was flicking through images of the night ahead like pages of a magazine, when a hot puff of sour breath hit her cheek.
“There you are.” The words were slurred and dripping with alcohol. The closeness of the voice made her jump, and she reared her head back, turning to the source.
It took her a second to place the vaguely familiar face, matching it with the pixelated version she’d squinted at through her phone screen.
“Oh,” she said, frowning. “You showed.” Nate, her original date for the night, swayed in front of her. “You’re an hour late,” Lizzie added, glancing at her phone.
“Issssme,” he drawled.
“And me!” Another drunken idiot draped his arm around Nate’s shoulders and gave him a bro-pat.
“And who the fuck are you?” Lizzie asked.
“Dis’ is my best friend,” Nate said, slapping a hand to the man’s chest. “We both wanted to know if you’re a natural redhead.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ve never hooked up with a fire crotch before.”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“Continue to talk to me and I’ll light both of your crotches on fire,” Lizzie said, riffling quickly through her purse and throwing some money on the bar for her drinks.
“Easy, babe,” Nate said, leaning closer still, his breath rank, making every hair on Lizzie’s body stand alert. “What’re you doing?” His mouth was slack and eyes glassy as he watched her slide from her barstool.
“Leaving. Bye, asshole.”
And goodbye hot Australian Rake.No amount of tempting accent and good looks were worth waiting around with aggressively drunk guys.
She shouldered her purse and took a step toward the door, hating that she had to walk past Nate and his friend.
“No you don’t.” Nate’s voice suddenly rose, startling Lizzie. “We have a date.” He stumbled a step from the bar, blocking her path.
“We really don’t,” Lizzie said, trying to sidestep him.
“Bitch, yes we do. I’ve been talking to you for days. I’ve put in the work.”
Lizzie was about to let him know that two days of light flirting on the internet was no one’s definition of work, when Nate made the biggest mistake of his life.
He grabbed her.
Chapter 3
TIME stopped with Nate’s attempt at possession, making Lizzie feel like she was moving underwater.
She turned her head, staring at the spot where his thick fingers pressed into the bare flesh at her shoulder, the skin puckered and blanched around his unclean nails. She registered from somewhere far away that he shook her a bit.
The vibrations of his voice near her cheek forced her head to turn back to his face. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear the words. A sickly tongue peeked out to wet his fumbling lips as a lecherous smile broke across his face.
Lizzie smiled back as rage flooded her body, her lips curling to bare her teeth.
Casually, she reached for her drink from the bar, bringing it toward her mouth.