Kristy
Why did I agree to come to Shark Bait tonight? All I've done for the past hour is sip my boring Lemon Lime and Bitters while watching Logan dance with his pick of women in the club. It's no surprise that every single girl he's danced with tonight has been skinny and gorgeous, unlike me.
From the moment we walked through the giant shark mouth, Logan made it his mission to down drinks and dance with as many women as possible. I'm certain he won't be going home alone tonight, and I'm already dreading the thought of hearing him with someone else. I knew he would eventually want to have sex again, especially after his last night out here, but I never expected to feel so twisted and sick at the idea of him being with someone else. It's like a dagger through my heart.
I should be happy for him. I wish I could genuinely feel happy for him. He's moving forward, even if he's not moving on. But instead, I'm sitting here, devastated that I'll never be the type of woman who captures his interest. He'll never look at me the way he looks at those women he's dancing with. He'll never take me home.
And that's probably for the best, even though it hurts like hell. If we slept together, it would likely ruin our friendship and make me care about him even more than I already do.
Desperation washes over me as I remember the conversation I had with Jess last night. I might have to move soon. Our lease will be ending in a few months, and with Jess getting engaged, it's unlikely we'll renew it. So I feel an urgency to make the most of the time I have with my neighbour, and in my mind, that includes dancing with him. I can't help but imagine what it would be like to be in his arms, to feel his hands on me.
Is it wrong to wish that he would dance with me just once? Everyone else I'm here with has. Jamie and Gemma left early, but before they did, they danced with me and spent time at the bar. I've also danced with Kyle twice and a few times with Adam, until Logan intervened and ended my dance with him by pushing some woman at his mate.
That's when I decided to sit alone at the bar. Adam and Kyle were kind enough to invite me out tonight, but in this club filled with beautiful women, I don't want to be a distraction from their pursuit of picking up. I tug at the hem of my dress, trying to cover my too-large thighs. I've noticed that I look more toned in the mirror lately, which gave me the confidence to wear a tighter-fitting dress tonight. It's a sapphire-coloured dress with spaghetti straps. At the start of the evening, I felt good, but now I can't help but focus on how much skin I'm showing. The dress stops midway between my hips and knees, barely covering half of my thighs. And the top is so low-cut that my breasts are almost falling out. It's too short, too revealing.
I've received more than a few sneers from some women in the club. The men, on the other hand, can't seem to take their eyes off my breasts. Several guys have approached me and asked me to dance, but I don't want to dance with someone who can't even bring himself to look at my face for a full second when asking me onto the dance floor.
Logan, however, has hardly looked at me all evening. And when he does, his gaze never drops below eye level. But like a magnet, my eyes are drawn back to him as he dances on the dance floor.
Tonight, he's wearing a dark grey shirt with rolled-up sleeves. The middle part is light grey where the buttons are, and it fits him tightly, showing off his muscles with every movement. In the club lighting, his hair appears less blonde and more brown, and the stubble on his face gives him a darker look than usual. And that spicy cologne he's wearing tonight? It's the sexiest scent I've ever inhaled.
Every woman out there on the dance floor is panting after him, and those who haven't approached him yet are just waiting for the right moment to dance near him. I silently wish them luck. The group of women dancing around him shows no signs of wanting to give up their spots. They are all vying for his attention. One woman seems to hold more interest for him than the others. She's dressed in a short white dress that accentuates her tan and supermodel-thin body. With her dark blond hair in soft, loose curls, she looks like she belongs with my neighbour.
I watch her dance closer and closer to Logan until she wraps her arms around his neck. I watch her press her hips against his. I watch his hands settle around her tiny waist as they dance together.
I should look away, stop torturing myself by watching him. But I'm as incapable of looking away as every other woman here.
Caught up in gawking at him and admiring his moves, I'm not prepared when he shifts his attention to the bar and catches me sitting there, ogling him like he's a coveted toy.
After seeing him half-naked last night and making the mistake of staring at him, I should have learned my lesson. But here I am, doing it again. And this time, I'm caught. My heart jolts as Logan's gaze connects with mine.
He breaks away from the blonde and walks over to me.
Breathe, I remind myself. He's just a friend, and he probably wants to check if I'm okay.
Logan takes a seat on the barstool next to me. Despite the clear centimetre between his tanned, muscular arm and my pale, sun-neglected arm, it feels as if they're pressed together. I can feel his heat and energy, and electricity zaps along my arm and through my body. His scent, a mix of heat and spice, is too arousing. I clench my thighs together and try not to inhale too deeply.
"You doing okay?" he yells over the music.
"Fine. I'm doing great. Really great."
That couldn't be further from the truth, and my nose should grow about five inches for saying it.
"Why aren't you out on the dance floor, then?"
"I have been." Not that he noticed. "I'm just taking a breather."
And indulging in a bout of self-pity.
He signals the bartender over and orders a shot of bourbon for himself. I watch as he tilts his head back, effortlessly swallowing the liquor down his strong, muscular throat, before slamming the empty shot glass back onto the bar.
When he looks at me again, all I can think about is how he would probably taste like bourbon. Anticipation builds as I unconsciously run my tongue over my lips.
Yep, I need to leave before I do something really foolish, like trying to get drunk off kissing him.
"Actually, I think I might head home soon," I say. "As soon as I finish this drink, anyway."
His gaze sharpens on my face. "I thought you were having a good time."
"I was. I am," I reply, the words falling a bit flat. "I just don't feel like dancing anymore."
Not with anyone but Logan, anyway.
Besides, I'm not exactly comfortable in this dress. I tug at the top of it, drawing Logan's attention. His gaze skims my breasts and travels down my body, igniting a pulsing heat between my thighs. Holding my breath, I wait for his eyes to meet mine. It's the first time he's truly looked at me all night, and I brace myself for his judgment.
When his gaze finally returns to mine, his expression darkens, and his jaw clenches tight as he pushes away from the bar. "Yeah, you probably should go home," he says. "After all, you have an early morning tomorrow."
My heart sinks. But what did I expect? That he would see me dressed up and feel desire?
Okay, yes. If I'm brutally honest with myself, I wanted him to see me differently tonight. But the look on his face tells me I've failed; he's unimpressed, maybe even slightly disgusted and embarrassed to be seen with me. Home is where he thinks I belong—my body too big to pull off this dress, nothing like the women he was dancing with earlier. He's never going to dance with me tonight.
And that's all I've been waiting for.
My hopes shatter around me. I need to get out of here before I break down and reveal how disappointed and upset I truly feel.
I have to go home.
"There you are."
I freeze as the woman Logan had been dancing with before he approached me stops me in my tracks.
She puts her hand on his arm and leans in close. "Come dance with me," she pleads. "I'm feeling lonely out there."
When he wraps his arm around her waist and smirks down at her, tears well up in the corners of my eyes. I should have left a long time ago.
"I'll leave you to it," I quickly say, walking away from him, hoping to conceal the turmoil of my emotions.
"Kristy!"
I don't turn around, unable to face him. Instead, I come to a stop.
"Get Adam or Kyle to walk you out," he yells after me.
Asking him to walk me out would be too much, even though I'm the one who drove him here. Even though I helped him pack up his house yesterday and baked for him this morning.
Even though I'm the woman who's starting to fall for him.
The realization hits me with such force that I almost collapse on the dance floor.
My sole focus is on leaving the club, so I don't notice Adam until he's right in front of me, his arm wrapping around my waist. "Hey, gorgeous, where are you going?"
"Home!" I shout.
"Already? Why?"
"Tonight was fun and all, and it was really kind of you guys to invite me, but I have an early morning tomorrow."
"Dance with me before you go."
"Adam, I really need to leave."
I glance over at Logan, once again with his hands all over the blonde, then at Kyle, who's dancing with a pretty redhead.
"Just one more dance," he pleads, holding up one finger and grinning when I look back at him. "I'm begging."
"I... I don't want to stay and get in your way."
Adam frowns. "Get in my way?"
"I don't want to prevent you guys from doing what you came here to do."
Looking between Logan and me, Adam shakes his head. "Is that what Logan said? Forget him; he's drunk. I didn't come here for anything other than having a good time and dancing with you."
Feeling even more self-conscious after Logan told me to go home, I can't leave now without Adam thinking there's an issue with him or with Logan. So, when Adam places his hands on my hips and starts moving, I begin to sway with him. And, just like the last time I danced with Adam, I find myself having a good time. After a few minutes, I let go of my self-consciousness and start to relax.
When the next song starts, Adam grins down at me and doesn't let me go. He seems genuinely happy dancing with me, so I decide that another dance won't hurt. Determined to enjoy myself, since Adam clearly is, I close my eyes and try to block out my feelings for Logan. I surrender completely, throwing myself into the popular dance tune with everything I have.
"Wow, you really know how to dance," Adam yells.
I grin back at him. "Of course I do."
My mother made me take ballet for a while. After she realized I didn't have the ideal body type for it, she had me switch to ballroom until I turned fifteen. After that, I gave up dancing because, except for baking, I wasn't particularly skilled at anything. I'm not a scholar, nor a dancer.
But none of that matters as Adam and I dance together. Dancing with him is the most enjoyable part of my night, and when he spins me out and then twirls me back into his arms, I can't help but giggle. Adam leads with confidence, and I love it. His focus is solely on me, making me feel feminine and alive.
With his hands still on my hips, he turns me around so we're dancing front to back. The movements might be deemed provocative with a stranger, but I feel safe with Adam. I immerse myself in the dance, fully engaged, until I catch sight of Logan pushing through the crowd to reach us. The anger on his face freezes me in place.
"What the hell are you doing?" Logan yells once he's near.
Adam releases my hips. "We were having fun! Kristy was enjoying herself!"
"Go have fun with someone else!" Logan grabs my wrist and starts pulling me across the dance floor.
I'm so taken aback that it takes a moment for me to react and try to stop him. I can't comprehend what's going through his mind, but his behaviour toward Adam and me is incredibly rude. Yes, he's had a lot to drink, but that doesn't excuse his caveman-like behaviour. How dare he tell Adam to find another dance partner, as if Adam isn't allowed to dance with me—as if we were doing something wrong! He's acting like a domineering asshole.
I dig my heels into the floor, coming to an abrupt stop, forcing Logan to halt or drag me along with him.
"What's wrong with you?" I yell. "Why are you acting like this?"
"I thought you were going home," he retorts.
"I was, but then Adam wanted to dance. I was planning to leave right after."
And why am I even defending myself? I shouldn't have to explain a harmless dance to him. He shouldn't care whether I dance with his friend or not. Adam asked me to dance, not the other way around. It's not like I was interfering with Adam's enjoyment or trying to get in his way.
"You were supposed to leave, Kristy."
He stands directly in front of me, his eyes still filled with anger, his expression fierce.
"Why does it matter if I wanted to dance with Adam for a bit before leaving?"
"Don't you have any self-respect? Are you that desperate to boost your self-esteem that you have to grind all over my friend like a dog in heat to feel confident?"
My mouth falls open. All I can do is stare at him.
Then his words sink in, hitting my brain and my tender heart simultaneously, and I slap him.
Hard.