Page 4 of Loving Kalvin
A large counter runs the length of the wall at the back. Rows of shelves are built in behind it with designated space for kegs and cubbyholes stacked full of cups and other drinking paraphernalia. It’s not a functional bar, but it’s the next best thing.
These parties are legendary, and everyone wants an in. Riley—the junior Liv recently started dating—lives here, so we’re an automatic shoo-in now.
The dancing on the bar tradition was started a couple years back by a few seniors—girls from a nearby sorority—who gatecrashed one night. They started a trend, and now it’s almost as legendary as the parties themselves.
The old me wouldn’t have dreamed of doing anything so wild.
The new me can’t wait to get my ass up on that counter. Tonight, I’m joining the honorary roll call, consequences be damned.
I haul myself up on the bar, rather inelegantly, staggering a little until I find my balance. A loud cheer erupts from the packed crowd when I remove my shirt and toss it in Olivia’s direction. My white tank top is tight with thin straps and a sheer lace overlay which touches the edge of my short jean skirt. My usual pale skin is tan from a summer spent by the pool on the grounds of my grandparents’ lavish property.
My hips move of their own accord, and I glance sideways, sharing a blinding smile with the petite redhead dancing alongside me. We grin at each other as the slick beats pump out. Flinging my hair over my shoulders, I do a little shimmy up and down, earning a few catcalls in the process.
I notice a couple of guys watching my every move, and my skin heats up. My moves become a little more provocative, a little sexier. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Liv smiling in my direction. She gives me a quick thumbs-up, and I laugh, continuing to pump and grind to the sultry rhythm.
Surprisingly, I’m enjoying this.
The old Lana would never have been so uninhibited.
But that girl no longer exists.
Along with her scandalous past.
I’m not Lana Taylor anymore. Courtesy of my wealthy grandparents, and a recent circuit court petition, I’m now Lana Williams. A new name deserves a new outlook on life, and I’m determined to forge a new path. To forget the boy who forever captured my heart on a beach in Nantucket.
A surge of guilt washes over me. It’s the same any time I think of Kal. Which is mostly every day, so, obviously, I haven’t been entirely successful with banishing my past, but it’s a work in progress. I’m determined to move beyond it.
Otherwise, what was the point ofit all?
The redhead nudges my hip, and I realize I’ve stopped dancing. Forcing all thoughts of Kalvin Kennedy from my mind, I immerse myself in the song, dancing my punctured little heart out.
Sweat trickles down my spine, and my mouth is dry as sandpaper. I’m thinking of calling it quits when I’m distracted by the sound of roaring and clapping coming from the far right-hand side of the room. A group of football players are huddled in a circle, raising their beers in a united salute. As the crowd disperses, I notice the boy and girl descending the stairs into the basement, and my heart stutters in my chest.
She is model beautiful with thick, glossy blonde locks, killer curves, and long limbs. More than a few heads turn in her direction, but I’ve stopped noticing her because the boy beside her has just sent my world into a tailspin.
“No!” I gasp, and my knees turn to Jell-O. With my stomach lurching, and my legs almost buckling, I sway precariously on the counter as everything crashes down around me.
I’m going to be sick.
His head is angled toward the bar, and my mind switches off. I dive off the counter, uncaring how or where I land. I just know that I need to get out of his line of sight before he spots me.
My heart is jackhammering against my ribcage as I flail about in the air. A pair of strong, muscular arms catch me before I face-plant the ground. “Whoa there, pretty lady!” a deep, rich voice says. “You fall or something?” my savior asks, repositioning me so I’m cradled against his very broad, very warm chest.
I peer into lush chocolate-colored eyes, blinking profusely. “Sorry!” I attempt to wriggle out of his hold, but he tightens his grip on my waist.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“She’s fine,” Liv says, materializing alongside us. “You can release her now, Chase.”
Chase frowns as he carefully places my bare feet on the ground. Olivia hands me my shoes, eyeing the guy suspiciously. With her abnormally tall frame, flawless dark skin, striking eyes, and thick jet-black hair, Olivia can command a room like no other girl I know. She’s like this fierce Amazonian warrior, reminding me of those stunning female vampires fromTwilight.
I’m dwarfed when I stand beside her, scrawny and small, the contrast between us never more transparent. Perhaps that’s why she’s taken such a protective stance. Why she looks out for me even when I don’t ask her to.
Chase regards her warily, scrubbing a hand over his stubbly jaw. “Do I know you?”
“Nope, but your rep precedes you.”
He grins, showcasing a set of cut dimples. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
