Launi

Ok the dress was a bit much. I'm freezing. This Seattle weather is a lot cooler than Alabama, but how often will I get to explore the nightlife in other places? I made it to the end of the block before my feet started aching. No blisters yet, but if I don't stop hiking this city as if I'm working on my distance merit badge, there will be no stopping them.

I'm not a house music fan, but the booming base from inside the club I'm standing outside has me curious. Maybe I can stop in for just a minute and check it out. The thought of hundreds of bodies in close proximity on the dance floor sounds very appealing from this icy front stoop. I search for a trash can to toss my coffee in. I'm not really a coffee drinker but under the circumstances I feel like I gave it my best try.

There's a small line and I wait my turn. It's not long before the bouncer waves me to the front and asks for ID. From there, I'm granted an orange waxy-paper bracelet and entrance into the small walkway leading to the larger dancing room. I stay near the wall, watching cautiously and excitedly the scene before me. Parker would love this. I take a quick video and send it to her. I'm already thawing out. The lights flicker and circle the room, reflecting against the steam from the machines and the thick air that sit heavy in the room around us.

I'm a stranger in this town. No one I know could possibly see me right now. The thought is exciting and motivates me to drop my defenses and step out onto the dance floor. My eyes close as I tip my head back, feeling the music move through my body. The tiny vodka bottles from the mini bar I downed before taking off from the hotel might be helping this inhibition right now, too. My shoulders sway to the beat, my hips and feet following as soon as I catch it. Raising my hands above my head, I swivel slowly in a circle, taking in the crowd as the beat drops and the DJ hops on stage as if it's his lifelong masterpiece. The vibe is intoxicating.

I tall figure is blocking the entrance as I wait for the lights to flash on him so I can make out his face. Each time they are close, they dart away again, leaving his identity a mystery. He's watching me. I can feel his gaze on my skin, but it's a club and that's what men are here for so I continue my swivel away from his direction. A man in front of me dances closer. I feel his knee between my own as bodies press up against me from all sides. The dance floor is packed and everyone is moving in their own way, causing lots of brushes and near gropes.

A large arm crosses over my shoulder from behind me and gently nudges the man from between my legs. He looks up ready to fight but thinks better of it and nods as he excuses himself. I feel hands on my hips and before I can turn, they pull me back tightly against a broad body, moving impressively for something that feels like it's cut from stone. This man is ripped. His cheek next to mine prevents me from turning my head to see his face. For a moment I'm scared and regret coming out alone, but his voice is like warm syrup on buttered pancakes as is drips down my spine.

"Launi," he says, the vibration of his voice so close to my neck causes small bumps to race across my skin. "I believe you have a contract with the band for the rest of the summer."

I stiffen. Is he lecturing me on my job? Before I can tell him where to shove his stupid contract, he pulls my hips against him again.

"Relax," he chuckles, "I'm not a narc." Rye lets his fingers sink into the space inside my hip bones as if there isn't a surface his hands don't know how to play. "I'm just curious since you're clearly trying to get yourself murdered night one. There are easier ways out of a contract, Doll."

"How sexist of you," I say, spinning around to look him in the eyes. That was a mistake. They stare down at me, dark and captivatingly. The breath catches in my throat. His smirk lets me know he's seen the reaction I'm having.

"Call it what you want. You know I'm right," he says, leaning in to make sure I can hear his low voice above the music.

"Listen," I start, trying to focus my thoughts so I can tell him off, but the beat begins to build again and he starts to smile and bounce his hand up and down like a frat boy at a rave and all seriousness is gone.

"I'm trying!" he answers. Then he covers one ear as if he's the DJ about to drop the sickest beat. His large body moves as he perfectly replicates the movement of every movie DJ ever cast. "Ohhhh shit, here we go!" he shouts as he smiles, showing his perfect teeth gleaming under the black light. In this moment we aren't adults trying to get our footing in this working world, we're two teens fucking around on summer break at the cabin again. Our dads' music playing in the background as we mock them with our air instruments.

Just like that we are dancing in a crowded room in some random club in Seattle. People moving all around us, but no one able to clock who he is. It's perfect. A small reprieve from the new fame. I wonder if I've been wrong about him in the past. At some point the playful obnoxious boy I grew up with turned into a bruting teen and then an absent adult. My dad always mentioned him in our rare chats, the way he fought with is own father and even confronted him once in front of the band, almost getting everyone kicked out of the venue. I guess we both had our problems with our fathers, but Rye stuck around and became a part of this toxic machine I tried so hard to get free from. I watched ego and brashness take the place of sweet, young innocence.

I can't forget who he is just because I see a glimpse of who he was. Spinning around, I close my eyes again hoping to get lost in the haze of the alcohol and the beat of the music. It's easy to do in a place like this. When I open my eyes, I notice there's space around me. It's not glaringly obvious, the crowd is dancing, but no one moves to get too close. I look for Rye and find him at the edge of the invisible buffer, his hands around the waist of another girl. His eyes watch her as she slides lower and spins to rub her ass against his groin. I was so sure it was him intimidating men away from me, but he's distracted and doesn't appear to care at all what I'm doing.

My phone buzzes and I pull it from the top of my dress where it's been tucked in my bra.

Parker: I'm bored

Parker: Tell me about your exciting life

Me: At a nightclub dancing

Me: Miss you already

My eyes catch Rye's. He's been watching me on my phone. The smile drops from my face. I don't need a babysitter. A man begins to approach as I tuck the phone back into my bra. As I look up, smiling to welcome his attention, I notice him watching someone. He turns suddenly and disappears back into the crowd. My head snaps in Rye's direction and our eyes meet. His jaw is tight and his eyes are daring me to call him out. His hand is around the woman's waist and her lips are now on his neck all while he stares at me, waiting for my reaction. I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing he's ruining my night. Instead, I slip my phone out again and record the encounter. He watches in confusion before gently removing the woman and moving towards me.

If Rye wants to be an asshole, I'll happily get the footage and use it to spin the story I've been asked to tell. Rye is a cheating, arrogant, man-whore. Record, click, post, and wait. He's coming after me as I push my way through the crowd and towards the exit. It's wall-to-wall people and my smaller frame makes it easier for me to weave through and lose him in the sea of bodies. I don't stop to look behind myself until I'm out into the cold night air again.

I pull my phone out and open the Uber app. We are close to the hotel but I'm not sure how safe it is at this hour to walk back.

"Get in the van," his voice demands from behind me.

"I'll get a ride," I reply cooly. I am not going to make a habit of taking orders from this man.

"That is your ride," he insists. "Did you forget how this works?" He looks disappointed in me.

"I'm off work. It's my free time..." I begin but when I look up, I see that he has been spotted and there is now a small group of women making their way to us.

"Get in the van," he says, his eyes sweeping the street in all directions and locking in on a man running towards us.

The van door slides open, and a member of the security team motions for me to get inside. I comply. My stubbornness is putting us at risk, and this is an argument for another time. Rye ducks in behind me and closes the door. His body is pressed against mine on the center seat and I tell myself the heat I feel is simply my anger. 

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