I shudder at the thought.
We order sodas and iced teas then share that oh my God, how much is this going to cost look.
"Aren't you joining Iris in the bathroom?" Walker scratches his head. "What is that code for?"
Penny laughs. "Girl talk. Of course." She smiles at me. "Don't let me stop you."
"No, I'm good right here." I force a smile. I know Ryan's trying to forgive her, but I just can't. She destroyed him. And his heart still beats for her. It's unfair. Wrong. Awful.
Dean raises an imaginary glass to Penny. "Glad you finally found someone who suits you."
She stares at him, assessing his words. "Thanks."
Boat Shoes squeezes her.
She giggles.
I whisper in Ryan's ear. "You think she knows that was an insult?"
"Probably." His breath warms my neck.
Penny's giggle gets louder.
Ryan's lips brush my neck. "I tell you how fucking amazing your hair looks like this?"
"No." My cheeks flush. "Not yet."
"It does." He plants a soft kiss on my skin. "Like you're offering me your neck."
I break character. "You're into—"
"Yeah." He pulls back with a heavy sigh. His eyes trace my body. They light up with desire. Then he blinks and they're full of confusion.
"You do look cute," Kristen says. "Like a princess."
"My punk rock princess." Ryan's fingers intertwine with mine.
"Is that an actual nickname?" Kristen rests her hand on her chest. "That's adorable. I'm in love."
"They are a cute couple." Jealousy drips into Penny's voice.
It fills me with a deep, pure sense of victory.
She has a lot. She has his head.
But she doesn't have his body.
The waitress interrupts to drop off our drinks. Diet coke for me. Club soda for Ryan.
I suck the dark liquid through a straw. Bubbles burst on my tongue. Mmm. Fake sugar.
It's the same as pretending with Ryan—it satisfies for a minute but leaves me craving sweetness.
Another dancer approaches the table. She smiles as she struts. "Celebrating?"
"Our friends are getting married." He stands. Puts one hand on Penny's shoulder and the other on Boat Shoes's. "Can you help them make it special."
Boat Shoes's eyes light up.
Penny bites her lip. Excitement flares in her eyes.
"Congratulations." She trails her fingers over the straps of Penny's dress. "I'd be honored."
"How much for three songs?" Dean asks.
She unfurls her palm as she whispers in his ear.
He pulls a stack of twenties from his wallet and hands them over.
She slides them into a tiny purse on her wrist without counting. All her attention turns to the happy couple. "Follow me."
Dean winks attaboy as the engaged couple stand and follow the dancer across the room then through a sheer black curtain.
"What I'd pay to watch that." Dean shakes his head too bad.
Walker chuckles. "They make this thing called porn."
"Sounds like you're offering a performance. Walker, take it off. Surprise your girl when she gets back." Dean winks.
Walker laughs. "Don't think I won't."
Dean turns to his brother. "How about you? Ready to bare it all?"
"In front of you assholes?" Ryan shakes his head no way, but he's not really here. His attention is on that sheer black curtain.
"You want a dance? It's on me." Dean shakes his wallet. "But I insist on watching."
"You're not even looking at the stage," Walker says.
"That's too far away. I need something up close," Dean says.
"Since when are you nearsighted?" Walker asks.
"I like tits in my face. That a crime?" He looks down at Kristen. "What do you think? You want a dance?"
"Maybe." Her attention stays on the round stage. A pink babydoll hits the ground. The pigtailed blonde kicks it aside with her black heels. Rolls at the waist to show the crowd her ass.
Slowly, she lowers herself onto the floor, crawls around the stage and thrusts her pussy into some guy's face—inches from his face.
He tucks a bill into her garter.
"What about you, babe?" Dean raises a brow. "You willing to offer a show."
Ryan is still staring at the curtain.
He's not here.
He's not mine.
Is he ever going to be mine?
"What do you think?" I rest my palm on his thigh. "Should I?"
Finally, he looks at me.
"I can drag you to that back room. Give you an excuse to spy on her."
"That's not—"
"Or I could strip right here." I play with the hem of my dress. "Let everyone watch me grind against you."
He just stares.
Words rise in my throat without stopping in my brain. "Would you even care if I was naked in your lap?"
His brow furrows with confusion.
"What do you say, Ryan? Let's go. Right here." I climb onto his lap. Hike my dress up my thighs.
His hands go to my hips. "What are you doing?"
"We're at a strip club."
"Stop."
"Am I that repulsive—"
"You know that's not it."
"No. I don't know anything."
He pushes me off his lap.
I stumble backwards. Land on my ass.
Fuck. That hurts.
I push myself to my feet. Pull my purse from the table. "Excuse me. I've had enough of tonight." I spin on my heels. Move to the exit as quickly as possible.
But I'm not getting any closer to privacy.
He's coming after me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Leighton
It's a breezy summer night, but my blood is boiling.
The freeway overpass roars with a steady stream of cars.
I turn toward the quiet street—what the hell is a strip club doing on such a quiet street?—and let the click-clack of my heels fill my ears.
Ryan's steady footsteps overpower them.
His fingers curl around my upper arm.
The possessive gesture undoes me. How can he be so fucking blind? How can he not see how badly I want to be his? How much I need him to be mine?
"What the fuck, Leigh?"
"Now you want to touch me?"
He makes that what the hell noise.
I pull my arm to my side, but it's not satisfying. It only rubs salt in the wound.
I keep my back to him. Take another step toward the streetlight. Not that it helps. We're in West LA, but we're still two miles from my apartment and these heels aren't made for walking.
Ryan follows, one pace behind me. "You promised, Leigh."
"What the fuck did I promise?"
"You'd tell me if I'm about to lose you."
"You're not." But that isn't true. Or maybe it is. I don't know. I only know I can't be here anymore. "I'm going home."
"I'll take you."
"Your car is at her place."