Endless Bonds

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Coming out tonight is a mistake.

I try my hardest to concentrate on my plate of nachos, my beer, and not on the fact that Cheryl is squeezed next to Jared, who is sitting next to me. Ignoring her is proving to be much more difficult than I thought...Especially when all I want to do is reach over and crush her in a hug to inhale that sweet scent of hers.

I want to ask her how she's doing. Are you okay? How are you holding up? Do you fucking miss me? Because you're all I fucking think about...

Of course, I do none of that shit.

I sit where I am, painfully, watching her put on a fake smile and laugh with everyone, and act like shit between us never went wrong.

It wasn't wrong – the timing was. It still hurts like a bitch.

I know her too well. I hate seeing her pretend like she's okay when I know she's not – when my presence is the one causing her discomfort.

Her lips tremble the slightest bit and her eyes wander to the right, where she can't see me. She's folded her arms against her chest to feign casual, but I know it's what she does when she's trying to hold herself in one piece.

Not only did I have to suffer through that, but I also had to watch Jared eye Natalie like she isn't in a committed relationship with Myron Bradford. I never told him Nat was seeing him, because I didn't think Jared deserved to know.

I didn't think Nat would exactly want me to openly point it out to Jared, considering their past.

Jared thinks he's being slick, but I catch the huge grins that spread across his face whenever she makes a bad joke, and the looks of pure longing he shoots her as he peers at her through his lashes.

I can't judge him though.

I've been looking at Cher the same way.

* * *

For her 20th birthday party, Natalie decided to go with the newly opened club on Fredview strip – Rouge & Rosé.

We rented out a small portion of the top floor, two booths to accommodate our large group of friends.

The entire place is burlesque inspired, with dim pink lights and a smoky atmosphere that's heighted by provocatively dressed exotic dancers, hanging off chandeliers, hoops, and silk ropes.

We've cracked open the bottles, starting with Moët & Chandon – Nat's favorite champagne – and another tequila and whiskeys, the latter a crowd favorite.

The bass in the club is deafening, mirroring the pounds of my heartbeats.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Everyone is screaming.

Natalie's got a whole bottle to herself that's she downing and dancing with...in scary high heels, over a tabletop, with Jared watching below like he's about to be sick.

Oliver and Inga are huddled in the booth, making out sloppily. They're all hands, tongues, and askew clothing.

Tara blows me a kiss as she walks past with Calvin, who's tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth at the sight of Tara's tiny excuse of a dress.

I try to avoid looking behind, because I feel eyes boring into my back. I know it's her.

With a reluctant sigh, I look over my shoulder and spot Cheryl.

She's looking at me, biting her bottom lip, her heart on her sleeves.

My heart aches.

She looks stunning as ever – her hair long, shiny, and straight. She's got sparkly looking lips tonight, and a dress that literally starts at her nipples and ends just an inch below her tight pussy. It puts her gold skin on display in a way that has my mouth dry.

And inadvertently has me panting and my jeans tightening near my crotch.

I have to get away from this girl. The effect she has on me is soul-searing – no woman has ever gotten me like this. If only she knew, she'd dangle herself around me like a forbidden fruit until I caved and took a fucking bite.

When Cher steps my way, I turn around and head down the winding staircase towards the bar.

* * *

It's not long before Cole Shaw – a long time high school friend of mine – and I find ourselves near the stage, where a lithe, busty dancer sways expertly within a gold hoop before us.

The music is louder, more sensual in the downstairs portion. Bodies weave and grind against each other. Drinks are sloppily spilled. People make out in ways that belong in x-rated movies. The strobe lights are occasionally blindly.

The atmosphere is meant for sinning.

My head goes to one girl upstairs, who's temptation personified.

Cole's voice pulls me out of my reverie. "Goddamn. Look at her."

He's talking about the dancer, a hand gliding over his open mouth as if he's in a trance.

The dancer's long blond curls move with each wave of her body and she's got a black lace mask over her eyes. She's exuding a type of mischief, with a hint of sexiness, that's got Cole wrapped up.

If I wasn't already rocking a semi for Cher, I'd be rocking one for this chick.

"Remember – you can't touch the dancers," I mutter to him.

He smirks a little, his eyes going a bit hazy.

She spins around in the aerial hoop, before dropping upside down, her legs splitting wide open in a V. I'm sure Cole all but nearly comes in his pants.

I think he releases some sort of growl under his breath. I don't know if I should laugh in amusement or roll my eyes.

She grins with her red-painted mouth, loving the fact that she's putting on a show for him, as if all the other patrons don't exist. Her hair is nearly touching the floor and, as her mask gently slips off, she curses.

Cole catches it in time.

She lifts herself into a sitting position, stealing the mask right out of his hands.

"What's your name, darling?" he husks.

Her breath hitches as she stares at him, then she quickly dons the lace mask.

Her hazel gaze bounces to me.

Thing is, it's already too late. I know who that is.

All I can do is stare at her with an awkward expression and pinched smile.

So, I grab Cole's shoulder and drag him away, despite his protests.

"What the hell man?" he hisses, shrugging me off.

I choke on my sip. "Bro, that was Myrna. Myron Bradford's twin sister. You remember her from high school? Because she sure as fuck remembered us."

His mouth parts a little. "Um, it's ringing a bell, I think. Whatever, she's fucking hot."

"Yeah, her twin brother is dating my sister. So that was fucking awkward. We're not going back."

He laughs huskily, scratching his five o-clock shadow. "That's too bad for you, but I'm going back. I want her number."

"Doubt she'll give it to you."

"We'll see." He winks, before turning around and blending with the crowd.

I decide to keep Myrna's secret to myself.

In need of another drink, I start for the stairwell leading to the second floor, when a blur of brown hair streaks across me.

I take a step back when I see it's Rose.

"Trent!" she slurs, drunk out of her fucking mind, and launches herself at me.

I'm dumbfounded for a second. I pull back and peel her away from me. What the hell.

"Rose?"

"Hi!" she gushes, like we never broke up. "How are you? You look so good tonight. Are you here alone?"

I blink. Honestly, how many times had I pictured this moment months ago? Rose and I breakup, then we find ourselves in a new setting, make up and get back together.

Way too many fucking times.

And the thing is, standing across from me – really, I should say falling in my arms drunkenly – I realize that I feel nothing for this girl.

But it seems like she feels something, because she starts to feel up my body like its hers. It's not. She's lost that right a long time ago.

"Rose – stop," I tell her when she can't get a hang of herself.

I don't like feeling like her piece of meat. Her blue eyes are unfocused, and I know she's hammered.

She licks her lips. "H-Have you missed me, Trent?"

No. No, I haven't. I look over her head desperately for anyone she's with. A girl from a large group starts heading our way, looking distressed.

She helps unwind Rose's limbs from mine, as the latter continues babbling some bullshit.

"Make sure you get water in her system, before you send her home," I growl.

Her friend nods, before dragging her sloppy self away.

I adjust my black Henley and smooth the areas where she clawed at me.

When I look up, I see Cher over the railing of the top floor, looking hurt.

Like I've betrayed her.

Fuck. This isn't what I wanted.

I want to get to her, but a commotion to my right catches my eye instead. Some guy twice the size smaller than Cole's six feet five has decided to pick a fight with him.

I see fists swinging and security heading towards the chaos.

I insert myself in to save Cole before he does anything stupider.

* * *

Crisis averted; I finally join the rest of my friend's upstairs.

Jared's tipsy, grinding with two girls. Oliver looks like he's dry-fucking Inga against the wall. Calvin is nowhere to be seen, and Tara and Natalie are jumping up and down to the beat of the song.

I whip my head around and finally, finally spot Cher.

She's pressed against the railing, talking to some random guy. But it's the lines in her body... they look tense, like she's trying to escape him.

When his hands go to cup her hips, I see red.

The familiar pounding in my chest is back.

Before I can get close, she's managed to gently coax him away and heads for what looks like the bathroom.

I decide to leave the guy be, because for once, I want to talk to her. I don't want her to feel like I'm avoiding her anymore.

Cheryl is leaning over the counter, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looks flustered as I slam open the door to the bathroom. A few of the girls shriek and freak out.

I don't have patience for this shit.

"Get out," I tell the girls.

Even Cher visibly flinches, before her mouth goes loose.

Something on my face must have sent the right message, because the girls fucking scrambled like the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. Good. At least some people listen to me.

I nearly fling Cher against the wall, before I'm reminded of my strength and her small stature...and the fact that I'd rather cut off my own arm than injure her.

Her spine presses still against the wall as she peers at me. "You changed your hair..." she breathes out.

I'm disoriented for a moment; that's what she has to say to me? She saw me with Rose, made an assumption. I saw her with another fucker and got jealous. I'll entertain her, though. "I put a part and a fade. Wanted a change. Yeah."

"It looks good."

We weren't here to discuss my new hairstyle. "What were you doing out there?"

"Talking to a guy," she swallowed hard, then narrowed her eyes. "Watching you with Rose. Wondering if we were playing the avoidance game."

I sigh and close my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Not really in a forgiving mood."

I lean my forehead against her and feet the slight sheen of warmth on her skin. "I'm really fucking sorry."

"That's better." Her hands curve around my neck, pulling me closer. "I've missed you."

I'm a second away from echoing the same, but I hold myself back. I know Jared says to take time, and not ruin this. But my heart is still raw from the wound she inflicted upon me. The last few weeks have sucked – I've focused on myself, but I miss her everyday.

Instead of saying something, I grab one hand and bring her fingertips to my lips, kissing them. I see they're still painted a light blue, because of my eyes.

The expression on her face melts.

I give up; I'm too weak for this girl.

Angling my head, I crush my mouth to hers, against my better judgement.

Cher makes a sound in the back of her throat that's pure sex. My arms bracket either side of her head and then I'm pressing myself against her, kicking her legs open. My hips rock against her, letting her feel just what she's done to me.

Cher's an opportunist.

Greedily sipping at my mouth, she uses her hands to climb up my body until her legs are wound tight around my hips. The little minx rubs herself against me, drawing the skirt of her dress so high that one look down and I catch an eyeful of her beige thong.

Kill me now.

I leave her mouth, trekking my lips down to her throat, all the way to where her neck meets her chest. Kissing the hollow at the base.

Cher continues to lovingly roam her fingers over my back. "I miss you so much."

My face is plastered in her cleavage at this point, and I'm breathing labored. "I miss you, too."

She raises my head and looks at me with so much emotion shining in her eyes that I nearly come undone. I kiss her mouth once. Twice.

She smiles into our kiss like she's won.

Then a crashing noise comes from beyond the bathroom door and we both jolt.

Her eyes are wide, the glossy quality to them gone. Her mouth looks thoroughly fucked and I'm sure I've got all her gloss over mine. "Wh – What was that?"

When we both hear the unmistakable sound of Jared screaming curses, we instantly untangle from one another.

I jerk open the door and Cher fixes her dress behind me as we run out.

The same guy who'd been bothering Cher earlier is on the ground, with Jared beating the fear of God into him.

And Nat is backed into the wall, looking petrified.

Fucking hell. I see security guards stomping up the stairs.

For the second time tonight, I willingly jump into a fight.

Five minutes later, we all get kicked out of the club.

Happy fucking birthday, Natalie.

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I've been a busy bee lately - internship, empowering women and building my business so little time for myself. But I hope life has treated you all kindly