Page 32 of Hate to Love You
“Got stood up,” I shrug, turning away.
“Well, his loss,” Teddy grins broadly, rubbing my shoulders. “Girl, you are freezing. Go inside and I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Thanks, Teddy, I’ll see you in there.”
Teddy is sweetest.
I bet he would certainly be amenable to more than the casual friendship we seem to have, especially given how his eyes canvas my body every single time he sees me. And the fact that he always lets me in without making me wait in line.
If I was ever looking to settle down with someone safe, I suppose it would be with someone like Teddy. Maybe even Teddy himself.
But I have no desire to settle down. Not worth the risk.
I forget how much brighter the strobe lights are inside the club. I don’t understand how people could work here every night. The bass thumps so loudly that you can’t even make out the lyrics in the song that is playing.
Unlike other clubs in the area, The Studio has a strict dress code. Women can wear whatever they want, but men must be dressed in suits, tying into their exclusivity.
However, this presents a bit of a problem for me, as Igor and his men, look nearly the same as every man in the dark. It’ll make scouting him out from a distance a lot harder.
I stand off to the side, my eyes scanning the room. Everyone is packed together like sardines in a can, sweaty bodies rubbing up against each other.
Even though it is hard to see, a part of me does like how dark it is here. The walls are black, with wood trimmings that are painted a shiny silver, making the room feel bigger than it is.The perimeter of the room has booths full of people all huddled together doing shots and laughing.
The dance floor spans the center of the room, packed full of people, with no room for personal space.
The song changes, the bass hitting harder as the DJ yells unrecognizably into the mic.
The strobe lights bounce around the room, working the floor and exciting the crowd. My eyes are drawn to a group in the center of the floor, four guys surround a stunning blonde, each one grinding against her body as she tips her head back, her hand running through one of the guys hair, before she tugs and pulls his mouth down to hers.
The happiness radiates from them, infecting the room.
Ahh, to be in love, and to be free.
My temple throbs as the bass continues to pound, my heart rate racing to match it. I glance behind me at the exit, the red words shining like a beacon.
Fuck, I wish I didn’t have to be here.
Just once, I’d like a mark that spent all his time in a dive bar or something.
The bar is along the back wall, which is covered in mirrors, with alcohol bottles stacked across. I spot a flash of pastel pink hair behind the bar and I smile to myself. Lizzie always makes a statement of some sort, her long hair always an obnoxious color. But honestly, each time she changes it, it suits her.
And I support whatever makes her happy.
Lizzie is the closest thing I have to a friend I suppose, perhaps that’s why I almost feel guilty when I pump her for information.
Considering how much information she gives me, I probably should at least try and appear interested in having a normal friendship with her. Even if that concept is foreign to someone who never really had friends.
Maybe I should invite her shopping? Or to get coffee?
I watch her for a moment, flying behind the bar, tossing ice in the cocktail shaker before throwing a bottle of vodka above her head. Holding my breath, I watch her catch it in her hand, her eyes still firmly planted on the drink she’s making with the other.
She is really good at doing that.
The strobe lights flash over the bar, highlighting the glitter she has splashed across her cheeks.
Few people know that Lizzie is also a resident doctor over at North General Hospital. She had this job through med school, and kept it, claiming that the one night a week that she works here helps cover her payments on her student loans.
No one would ever suspect that the hot bartender with the body of a supermodel, also has a medical degree.