Soulbound

4. Dani

I should have known that when Rose said we were going to get laid tonight, she was really talking about her.

I sip on my third beer of the night as another laugh erupts from the blonde's throat at something this tall, dark and handsome stranger said. I roll my eyes. Even after buying us two rounds of tequila shots he's still not that funny. And his eyes—I didn't like how he was looking at Rose, like a wolf sizing up its prey. It was unnerving.

“You alright, miss?”

I turn my head to see the bartender staring back at me. He was a mountain of a man, with arms as big around as tree trunks and thick tufts of hair blanketing their length. His chestnut mane was pulled back into a messy bun and his face was nearly obscured by a full beard. One bushy eyebrow was raised in what looked like concern as his green eyes glanced me up and down. Was he sizing me up, too?

“Uh, y-yeah,” I whisper, and I immediately hate how uncomfortable I sound. Why was I stammering? I was usually much more sociable than this.

Come on, Dani, buck up!

I clear my throat and say, a little louder, “I'm fine.” I must not sound very convincing because he doesn't look convinced. Do I really look that pitiful?

“You new in town?” he asks as he wipes down a glass. “Haven't seen you around before.”

“No. I just haven't been in here before.” Clubs haven't been my usual scene since Monica and I were together, and even then it took quite a few drinks before I ventured over to the dance floor. Why did I agree to come out again?

With a sigh I turn my head and freeze.

Standing at the far end of the bar, sporting that familiar black leather jacket, is Red. Her slitted gaze connects with mine and her eyes widen ever so slightly in recognition. I feel a heat seep into my cheeks as she flashes me a lopsided grin and I pray that I don't melt into a puddle right then and there.

She looked at me. This redheaded goddess looked right at me, and she smiled at me! Does she remember me? Hopefully she remembers that I don't speak French. Actually, I hope she's forgotten all about that catastrophe.

My fingers comb nervously through my hair and I'm suddenly very aware of my appearance. If I knew she was going to be here then I would have dressed in something a little more—how did Rose put it, appetizing?—than simple skinny jeans and a sleeveless blouse. At least I opted for heels this time instead of settling on total comfort and slipping on my sneakers.

Should I go say hi? Do I even remember how to speak? Or maybe she could do all the talking. I wouldn't mind just sitting down and listening to her honey-coated words. She could probably make a conversation about paint drying sound like the most interesting thing in the world.

You know what? Saying hello couldn't hurt—

A blur of motion draws my attention and my heart sinks. Oh, right. The devil in stilettos. And she has her painted lips pressed against Red's cheek.

Is it possible to feel dejected twice in one day?

I choke down a groan and turn my attention back to the beer in front of me. This night is going just swimmingly.

“See something you like?”

I look up at the bartender, whose gaze is now trained on Red and her—who exactly was that woman anyway, her girlfriend? Were they dating? Do I even want to know?