Page 20 of Friends With the Monsters
“Excuse me, sorry.” I shimmy past a group of guys sitting across from the bar. They have two tables, but most of them are standing and drinking anyway, as they holler over the loud music to hear each other.
“Mind if I borrow a chair?” I blink up at a handsome man with a glass bottle in his hand. His narrowed eyes scan me. I study him back in the same way.
His hair is too short to be called long, but too long to be called short, either. He has a fine scruff covering his jaw. It’s a shade or two darker than his light hair, but I notice how the very ends of his hair are tipped dark like the stubble on his jaw. Interesting.
I take a second to appreciate the width of his shoulders and neck. He’s dressed pretty casually—dark jeans and a loose, long-sleeved t-shirt. It’s not doing much to show off what’s underneath, but it shows his confidence. He doesn’t need to go all out to be noticed. He looks exceptionally comfortable in his own skin. I wish I could make out the true color of his light eyes, but the club is rather dark.
Nothing about him seems deceitful. If anything, he almost feels too pure. It’s not that he’s never sinned—it’s only that I can tell he doesn’t make a habit of it.
It takes the physical attraction I’m feeling toward him and makes him damn near irresistible.
There’s something about him that makes me want to get him all mussed up and dirty.
“Sure, can I get you a drink?” he offers eventually, unaware of my less-than-pure thoughts.
“No thanks, just needed a place to sit,” I reply, recovering quickly, and lift my foot in the air, alluding to my heels like they’re the reason I want to be off my feet.
He glances around as if he doesn’t buy it, and he’s looking for the real reason I’m here. When he doesn’t find whatever he’s looking for, he tips his bottle in my direction. “Let me know if you change your mind about the drink.” Then he turns back to the group he’s with, ignoring me.
Damn, if I weren’t already busy tonight, I would have him. I look down at his ass. The shirt might be too baggy, but those jeans are hugging his ass in a way that makes me a little jealous.
I wonder if he’s the DD, since he doesn’t seem nearly as intoxicated as the other men of his group. They barely even noticed me. To be fair, they really seem to be having a good time among themselves. That’s why I chose them—well, that and the hottie. I’ll have to get his name and his number for another time.
I angle my chair so I can see Vanessa. She’s resumed a seat among her clique. The two goons beside her are still standing, appearing as if they might be more alert than before I sauntered into their little playdate.
I snicker, remembering how shocked Vanessa was when I busted in on her soirée. She’s deep in conversation now with the woman who promised the wards were working fine. Maybe they were—against someone else—but after I felt the initial resistance, it was only a matter of pushing a little harder, like I was walking up a hill instead of on flat ground.
And now that I know what to look or feel for, I don’t think I’ll ever be fooled by a similar ward again. I wonder how many times I’ve been near one and didn’t know.
That thought sobers me a little. When did I become so unworried? I shake out my hair to hide the fact I was actually shaking my head at my ignorance.
Remembering this isn’t just a game, I watch the hallway Gunnar disappeared into. If he doesn’t come out soon, I’m going to need a reason to go back and get him, or give him reason to come out to me.
An idea starts to form. A devious smile lights up my face, enough that I look down to hide the grin. This might just be fun after all.
Chapter 8
“How are the feet?” The question takes me by surprise. I’ve been watching Vanessa’s crew like a hawk.
“Good, yours?” I reply on instinct, before remembering I made my feet the excuse for needing to sit down.
“A little sore, actually. I’ve been up almost twenty-four hours at this point.” The cutie glances down at a heavy watch on his right wrist. He’s pushed up his sleeves, baring his forearms: the sexy man equivalent of exposed cleavage.
I reach for one of the other chairs and angle it out for him to take a seat. “Don’t let me stop you from taking a load off.”
I peek back toward Vanessa. I haven’t seen Gunnar once since I’ve sat down, but I think her little meeting is about to wrap up. Two of the people already left the group a few minutes ago.
“You waiting for someone?” He takes a draw from his beer.
“Depends, what’s your name?” I prop my chin up on my hand.
“Calix. Depends on what?” he responds, grabbing the back of the chair and spinning it on one leg swiftly, until it lands backwards, and then he takes a seat. He rests his forearms on the top of the chair, dangling his beer bottle from two fingertips.
I raise my brow in appreciation. He’s quick and quite graceful.
“Is that your real name?” I avoid his question. Fortunately, he’s taken the seat I offered, so I’m still able to see the area behind him and watch for Gunnar.
He nods his head and confirms, “Sadly, it is.” He’s being truthful.
