Free Frayed by Pamela Ann

for his age. The effect was hilarious.
    When the music ended, I said goodbye to the woman who hadn’t given her name, but we both smiled at each other in an understanding that it was great fun to dance with each other for a bit. “Wait! Dance more, for me.” The boy-kid asked, his accent obviously Greek.
    “You’re a naughty kid. I already danced and you watched. You got the full viewing.” I spun around and went towards his table that had a variety of alcoholic drinks. I picked up the Rosé bottle and saluted it at him. “See you around.” I gave him another smile before leaving.
    Boy-kid bunched up his fingers and kissed them with his lips. “Goodbye, beautiful.” He was obviously drunk already.
    I waved him another goodbye , walking with purpose, seeking Lindsey and Taylor. I was surprised when I found the two talking, drinks in hand. Lindsey looked up when she found me walking towards them. “Hey! Where have you been? You look flushed.” Her eyes took in my state. “Where did you get the Rosé?”
    I pointed towards the opposite side of the room, and smiled at them. “I took the champagne after I gave that Small Big Pimpin’ Kid a mini-lap dance.”
    Taylor’s reaction was a Kodak moment. “Cheers!” I nodded at him before I took a long gulp of the mighty fine bubbles, straight up from the bottle.
    “What!? I would’ve loved to have
seen that! What a bummer!” Lindsey looked like I just told her that she couldn’t have margaritas any more. I gave her a big, goofy grin.
    “ Mi scusi, I’m Eliza and this is Mia. We’re from Roma. We were wondering if you were that Armani ad underwear model? Taylor, sí?” Two awed, giddy teenage girls eyed Taylor like he was edible. Lindsey and I both looked at each other, then at Taylor.
    The man in question stood up and shook their hands. “I am that Taylor. It’s nice to meet you Eliza and Mia from Rome.”
    The girl
,
who introduced herself as Eliza
,
gushed and turned tomato red when she got
up
up close and personal to Taylor. She ordered Mia to take pictures of the two of them together.
    Taylor was an Armani underwear model? Holy sexy man! I needed to Google that, like right now! Lindsey moved closer to me and whispered in my ear. “Did you think he modeled for like The Dollar Store or something?” Lindsey nudged me. She could easily see through my reaction.
    I flicked my hair to the other side, not caring that Taylor was engrossed talking to his fans now. “Want to put your Greek plan in action?” I asked the grinning Lindsey.
    “Fuck, yeah! It took you long enough. It’s time to rock those tittays of yours woman!” Lindsey gave me a wink. Her brown eyes sparkled wickedly with amusement.
    Ever since my breasts developed to full C-cups, she ’d always teased me about it. I mean, they’re pretty decent, but since I’m petite, they look somewhat huge on me, and much more pronounced when I wear a tight top, like tonight.
    She held her hand out and guided us through the throng of people dancing. She stopped when we were squashed in the middle of those people, who were lost in the groove of the music. Reggae Techno blared through the speakers. We started dancing like no one was watching us. I danced and drank from my bottle, having not a care in the world.
    After ten minutes of dancing, two British men came to join us. I barely glanced at Lindsey because the Brit looked like Josh Duhamel, but with a British accent. Talk about loaded ammunition! I was sold. “James,” he whispered in my ear, his hands holding my hips possessively. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or how disarming his looks were, but I was melting in his arms. James could be my cure
—t
. T he cure for my reaction to Taylor
,
, not Harry. There was no cure for the kind of hangover that Harry had produced.
    “ Trista,” I whispered against his cheek. I shivered deliciously when my cheek made contact to the light stubble he had on his jaw. Could I melt some more, please? I