Free Slow Body Rock (Rockstar Romance) by Nora Flite Page B
Authors: Nora Flite
the floor screeching. “Wait, wait! Are we going to the same place Sean and the rest of his band will be?”
They let me go, none of them meeting my eyes. “He might show up,” Porter mumbled.
“Might?” Wrinkles crawled over the bridge of my nose. “They're partying elsewhere because they don't expect they'll be able to get into this club, aren't they?” I didn't wait for them to speak; their eyes were darting around, gliding off of me like I was made of oil. “If he or any of his band show up, they better be let inside.”
A hand clapped onto my head; Drezden. “Calm down. I'll let the security know they can get in. Sound fair, kid?”
Kid. My heart swelled at the name he'd stopped calling me so quickly. I told him not to, that's why. I said I wasn't a god damn kid. Pin-pricks crawled up my arms. Then he asked me... he asked me what I was doing to him. Every inch of me heated up, reliving the memory of being in the tub.
Clearing my throat, I was the first to push into the open air. The world was full of screaming, flashing lights, and men in black holding an army at bay.
“You guys said you wanted to show me a 'real' afterparty.” The look over my shoulder at the rest of the band was crafted from pure challenge. “Well? Then come on, show me what it means to be a member of Four and a Half Headstones.”
I was more than ready to find out.
****
I nside the club, there was no air. It was a place built from human heat and purple lights. No one cared; everyone was eager to suffocate if it meant they could be near the stars.
Near us.
Near me .
Thumping music pumped into my fibers. It made me dance, but the alcohol was what made me feel free. No one cared I was underage, they didn't dare turn me away. I'd told the guys I'd been to afterparties before. It galled me how right they'd been, though. This was nothing like the parties Barbed Fire ended up at.
Packed to capacity, the club was sweltering. Bodies without faces ground against me, turned me to hamburger with their rough motions. Tossing back my third—fourth?—rum and coke, I closed my eyes and rolled into the sea.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The rhythm rocked my heart.
It was fun, time being eaten away like this. My temples were expanding with pressure from the noise. Alcohol, I've had too much alcohol. Something bumped me; a hip or a thigh. I should stop, get some air. I need to breathe!
Foreign fingers hooked around my waist. I didn't know him, his face was amethyst in the glow of the lights. “Hey,” he croaked, dark bruises under his eyes. “I know you, you're Lola.”
“Yup.” With one hand trapped by my drink, I tried to use the other to pry myself free. The guy, whoever the fuck he was, wouldn't have it.
Yanking me close, his sour breath invaded my nose. “You were amazing up there.” His nose touched my forehead, sniffed my hair. “Come on, let's dance, babe.” Too fast, his fingers ran up my ribs like giant spiders.
No way, not letting this happen. The asshole had on a giant grin; a blast of ice and rum stole it away. I dropped the glass, the plastic 'clonk' not reaching me over the music.
In disbelief, he wiped his face. His eyes were furious. “You fucking bitch!”
There was a part of me that wanted him to try something. My brain was full of disgust for the other night, when the guards had thrown me down so easily.
I wasn't a victim, those days were in my past.
He didn't take a step; his eyes shot up, over my shoulder. In the funny lighting of the club, Drezden was a purple demon. I'd have called him an angel, but I didn't need saving. And face it, I thought, squinting at his tight jaw and liquid eyes. There's nothing angelic about him.
“There a problem?” He was looking at me, clearly talking to the guy soaked in my drink. The nameless shithead knew who my 'hero' was. If he'd recognized me, Drezden Halifax was a given.
The asshole scrubbed his cheek, barely talking over the music. “No problem. Forget it.” He faded
They let me go, none of them meeting my eyes. “He might show up,” Porter mumbled.
“Might?” Wrinkles crawled over the bridge of my nose. “They're partying elsewhere because they don't expect they'll be able to get into this club, aren't they?” I didn't wait for them to speak; their eyes were darting around, gliding off of me like I was made of oil. “If he or any of his band show up, they better be let inside.”
A hand clapped onto my head; Drezden. “Calm down. I'll let the security know they can get in. Sound fair, kid?”
Kid. My heart swelled at the name he'd stopped calling me so quickly. I told him not to, that's why. I said I wasn't a god damn kid. Pin-pricks crawled up my arms. Then he asked me... he asked me what I was doing to him. Every inch of me heated up, reliving the memory of being in the tub.
Clearing my throat, I was the first to push into the open air. The world was full of screaming, flashing lights, and men in black holding an army at bay.
“You guys said you wanted to show me a 'real' afterparty.” The look over my shoulder at the rest of the band was crafted from pure challenge. “Well? Then come on, show me what it means to be a member of Four and a Half Headstones.”
I was more than ready to find out.
****
I nside the club, there was no air. It was a place built from human heat and purple lights. No one cared; everyone was eager to suffocate if it meant they could be near the stars.
Near us.
Near me .
Thumping music pumped into my fibers. It made me dance, but the alcohol was what made me feel free. No one cared I was underage, they didn't dare turn me away. I'd told the guys I'd been to afterparties before. It galled me how right they'd been, though. This was nothing like the parties Barbed Fire ended up at.
Packed to capacity, the club was sweltering. Bodies without faces ground against me, turned me to hamburger with their rough motions. Tossing back my third—fourth?—rum and coke, I closed my eyes and rolled into the sea.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The rhythm rocked my heart.
It was fun, time being eaten away like this. My temples were expanding with pressure from the noise. Alcohol, I've had too much alcohol. Something bumped me; a hip or a thigh. I should stop, get some air. I need to breathe!
Foreign fingers hooked around my waist. I didn't know him, his face was amethyst in the glow of the lights. “Hey,” he croaked, dark bruises under his eyes. “I know you, you're Lola.”
“Yup.” With one hand trapped by my drink, I tried to use the other to pry myself free. The guy, whoever the fuck he was, wouldn't have it.
Yanking me close, his sour breath invaded my nose. “You were amazing up there.” His nose touched my forehead, sniffed my hair. “Come on, let's dance, babe.” Too fast, his fingers ran up my ribs like giant spiders.
No way, not letting this happen. The asshole had on a giant grin; a blast of ice and rum stole it away. I dropped the glass, the plastic 'clonk' not reaching me over the music.
In disbelief, he wiped his face. His eyes were furious. “You fucking bitch!”
There was a part of me that wanted him to try something. My brain was full of disgust for the other night, when the guards had thrown me down so easily.
I wasn't a victim, those days were in my past.
He didn't take a step; his eyes shot up, over my shoulder. In the funny lighting of the club, Drezden was a purple demon. I'd have called him an angel, but I didn't need saving. And face it, I thought, squinting at his tight jaw and liquid eyes. There's nothing angelic about him.
“There a problem?” He was looking at me, clearly talking to the guy soaked in my drink. The nameless shithead knew who my 'hero' was. If he'd recognized me, Drezden Halifax was a given.
The asshole scrubbed his cheek, barely talking over the music. “No problem. Forget it.” He faded