We agree on a Fireball shot and clink our glasses together before downing them in one go. The cinnamon-flavored whisky burns my throat, but I don’t mind. It heats me from the inside out.
Yasmine slaps more money down onto the bar. “Another round please!”
“Yaz,” I moan, not wanting her to feel like she has to fund the evening just because she’s got more money than the rest of us. I can pay for myself if I just go easy.
“No! I don’t want to hear it!” she says, covering her ears. “I’ve waited on Kat all day and she’s been a real wanker. I need alcohol.”
“Hey!”
“The least I can do is get us all properly toasted now, her most of all.”
“Now, I truly can’t find fault with that,” Kat amends, accepting her second shot and passing me one as well.
“Why do I feel like this night isn’t going to end well?”
“Nonsense! We’re all so good at holding our alcohol!”
It’s a barefaced lie. Wholly inaccurate. When Kat gets drunk, she gets real sobby. She always wants to have a good cry, hug us close, and moan on about how life is fleeting and we have to grasp it with both hands. Yasmine just gets so she’s real horny. Once she’s two sheets to the wind, she’ll kiss anything—a boy, a girl, a broom.
“All right, let’s just pace ourselves, yes?”
Kat ignores me and shouts, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!”
And that’s when the night takes a turn. Fireball is potent, and anyone who says otherwise is a total liar or a total drunkard. Three shots in, I’m feeling it. I know it’s got a bit to do with my size and the fact that we had some wine back at the flat while we were getting ready, but I can’t help it, I LOVE THIS SONG.
“WE HAVE TO DANCE!”
And we are dancing! Up on the DJ booth! I can’t quite work out how we’ve made it from the bar to the booth, but we’re up in here with the DJ and he’s passing Kat his headset and she’s putting it on then jumping up and down in time with the music. The lads in the crowd are eating it up, of course; she’s quite well-endowed, so she’s putting on a good show in her crop top. I’m laughing and I can’t stop laughing no matter how hard I try.
All I care about is this song and how it sounds, like the music is living inside me. Yasmine turns me toward her and tries to go in for a snog, but I duck out of the way so she ends up kissing the DJ.
Let me tell you, he’s not upset in the least!
Then I glance up in the crowd and, lo and behold, LOGAN! He’s here, in the mad throng of people out on the dance floor, and he’s brought his buds. Oh, this is ace.
“KAT! Kat!” I try to grab her attention over the music, but it takes ages. She doesn’t listen until I pry the headphones off her ears and shout right against her head. “I’ve got you a wonderful birthday present!”
Her eyes light up with glee. “Oh, you have? What is it?”
She looks down as if expecting me to whip it out from behind my back. Instead, I turn her so she’s facing the crowd, and then I point out to where Logan and his friends are standing.
It takes her a second to register what I’m pointing at. Then suddenly, she spins toward me, mouth gaping.
“THE FOOTBALLER!” Her eyes are bright with excitement. “You’ve brought him here!”
Without wasting a moment, she grabs my hand and I grab Yasmine’s hand and we’re running from the DJ booth. The crowd boos at our departure—like I said, Kat was really entertaining them—but what do we care?! We have lovely men waiting for us down below.
With Kat in the lead, threatening to tug my arm out of socket, we barrel through the crowd, leaving me shouting apologies in our wake. Sorry about my friend! I’ve tried having her committed, but they won’t take her! We make it to the guys in no time. Blimey, they’re all quite huge when they stand together like that. Three of them. One for each of us. Kat’s man—the one she immediately steps toward—is lovely with brown skin, very short hair, and a big smile.
“Oh hello, you. Remember me?”
His smile widens. “I do, yeah. From Logan’s party. I’m Jay.”
“Hello, Jay. I’m Kat and it’s my birthday.”
“Happy birthday,” he says, staring down at her with a mischievous smile.
I can’t make out what she says next because she sort of whispers it in his ear, but then his eyes go wide, and well, there you have it. I’ve just given Kat the best birthday present she could have ever asked for.
Yasmine plays a little more hard to get with her man. She reaches her hand out to introduce herself and asks him his name too. He’s called Marcus. He’s got black hair down to his shoulders and some cool tattoos stretching up his arms. Yasmine has always gone for the bad boys, so I know she’s only acting cool. Inside, she’s screaming.
I finally glance over to Logan, and it’s the first time I’ve really gotten to see him, standing there in his white shirt and jeans. He’s had a haircut, and his brown locks are shorter now. It somehow makes him look sharper, not at all the sweet man I’ve become used to.
I find I’m shy all of a sudden, as if we hardly know each other.
He’s studying my reaction to him, tipping his head to the side.
I cross my arm over my stomach so I can grip my other elbow.
“Hi you.”
“Hey,” he says, smiling.
He’s not making it easy on me. He could step toward me and close the gap between us, but I get the feeling he’s enjoying this, pinning my little mouse tail to the ground with his big cat paw.
“You look nice,” I say.
He laughs and shakes his head, turning to his friends. “Come on, let’s go up to the suite.”
Chapter Twenty
Candace
Logan glances over my shoulder and his eyes narrow, assessing the crowd. That’s when I finally start to notice the whispers coming from around us. People have started gathering close, more than a little curious.
“Is that Logan Matthews?”
“Dude, I think it is. And that has to be Jay Cruthers with him.”
“Didn’t he win the Heisman at LSU?”
Curiosity morphs into courage.
“Hey! Logan! Can I get a picture?!”
“Marcus! Jay!”
It’s definitely time we abandon the main floor and make for higher ground. Logan reaches out to gather me close, and then he pushes me ahead of him, his hand on the small of my back. I don’t make out what he tells the others, but when I glance over my shoulder, they’re following near us. We round the dance floor then head toward a roped-off staircase. The huge bouncer blocking it steps aside immediately once he sees Logan approaching. We start to go up and then once we’re on the second-floor landing, Logan points to a door at the end of the hall.
It turns out he’s somehow reserved a VIP suite that’s totally separated from the rest of the club. We walk in and the room sprawls out in front of us. There’s a main seating area with drinks and food already set out for us to enjoy. The vibe is even cooler in here than it is down in the rest of the club, not all black leather and tacky plastic lights. It’s got paneled walls and lovely deep library chairs. A heavy chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm glow that competes with the moody club lighting seeping in from the far wall. Over there, the VIP suite has a sunken balcony that overlooks the first floor. I walk over to the edge and look over, and people start to go wild, thinking I’m someone cool. I sort of wave then immediately step back, nervous about all the attention. It’s quite nice the way they’ve designed the space. Unless I’m right at the edge, no one from the first floor can see us. It’s totally private up here.