When he said it was the wildest club, I was expecting it to be crowded, some cool lights and a decent variety of drinks. Its official, Vancouver is too American to be considered Canadian. Let's just buy it shall we? Name your price.

We stopped at Wild Coyote. The driver was shocked that I had agreed to get off at a stop like this with a stranger. I myself had been shocked.

Coming in, I was felt up by both genders, some more daring than others. It became difficult following the nameless stranger in this fog of bodies, smoke, and glitter. It was obvious where he was heading though; the bar, which was packed full. In fact this whole place seemed bursting.

The music was rhythmic, some dubstep remix. Everyone seemed to thrum, the whole place felt alive. Dark colored walls and rich wood flooring. The dance floor was an interactive glass floor that lit into different neon colors. There was no need for a disco.

Turning my attention to Mr. French guy I notice he finds an empty seat- I'm guessing the only one, at the bar. They are people standing around, but it's as if no one dares takes his spot. The bartender stops in front of him without hesitation. "Do I even need to ask?"

The French man shoots one of his dazzling smiles and the bartender slaps his scrub against his shoulder, than walks away to get his drink. I stand next to him amazed, "you've been here before?"

"Every night" He replies turning to face me. How could he go to a place like this over and over again? In the quickest time I've ever known for a bartender, he comes back with a cream colored smoothie. "Pina Colada, no alcohol whatsoever, your majesty."

The bartender fakes a bow and heads back to the other side of the room. Then what he said computes, "un alcoholic Pina colada? That's like a Christmas toy without the batteries." And the bartender didn't even ask me what I wanted. He takes a sip and moans in delight. The sound causes some stirring in my abdomen. "Never drank alcohol, don't plan too."

I gasp, shamefully; I loved it before I had begun my diet. Not like I drank, it was illegal, but a small can of whiskey my father would sneak in and the champagne at weddings taught me to savor the warm taste. How in the world does he live by that, no alcohol? You lived by it too.

He glances up at me with a quirked eyebrow; I realize I've been lost in my own world for a bit. He chugs down the rest of the drink and offers the last sip to me. I shake my head politely and wave my hand as a decline.

When the glass is spotless, the French man motions for the woman sitting next to him to get a move on, surprisingly she agrees. I take a seat and sit towards him at a 60˚ angle when he clears his throat. "I don't even know your name, but let's start with mine. Thomas," he says holding out his hand.

"Lucie." I take his hand and audible gasp when it engulfs mine. It's warm, calloused and the tingles shooting up my hand clearly shout that there's something more there. I erase the forbidden thought.

He smiles with his beautiful teeth and with unimaginable confidence asks, "wanna dance?"

Dear god, no. I would use any other excuse to touch you but not this one. I am so bad, I made a baby cry. No joke, I am not allowed to dance in the same room as my niece Jenna.

Reluctantly he drags me but I pull back. "No." I was not dancing, especially in a place like this.

"No?" What does he think? I was talking about unicorns?

"No." he chuckles, "come on, it'll be fun." I laugh nervously and then say very darkly. "No, I suck. I honestly can't dance for shit."

"Nonsense. Everyone can dance with a little alcohol." And with that he grabs a drink from a supposed stranger and lifts it to my lips. Beyond my better judgment I take a sip. Fruity with a burning aftertaste.

And then came the kick. "Whoa," most definitely the strongest drink I had ever had, my vision blurred in seconds. My steps became staggered and by myself I made my way to the neon dance floor just as I love it came on.

I was swept away in the music with Thomas, and my long lost suitcase nowhere to be found.

00oo00oo00

I had long ago gotten rid of my inhibitions. No one would recognize me, the way I grinded on a stranger- the female stranger behind me while right there blasted through the speakers. Wolf whistles had long become a normal part of the atmosphere I got lost in.

As soon as the lady behind starting moving her hands to naughty places, one at the waistband of jeans and another towards the edge of my bra- my shirt was taken off a while ago- I was ripped away from her and there were obvious awe's. One had even escaped my lips. It was official; I was not Lucie Clare right now.

My vision blurred from the quick movement. It took a moment for my brain to compute that I was being dragged away shirtless with a male stranger; male because no female would be that tall and powerful.

The guy must have felt my worry because he stopped for just a second for my eyes to focus and for me to acknowledge that it was Thomas the French dude who was taking me away. I didn't question it- just trusted a virtual stranger when my mind was in a state of disarray. That surely says something of how well I can hold my alcohol.

"Where we going?" but it was slurred quite a bit, it came out more like warm we gonna but he understood either way and glancing back he tries as nonchalantly as possible to say, "I may have sort of accidentally, not exactly, possibly for the second time, set someone on fire."

I was a little more sober within seconds, "wait WHAT?" He smiled and pulled me out the door. The cold wind hit me first. Then the loud noises. And that was when my headache began. "run." He yelled, at least I think he yelled. Took a second to compute but by then I had already followed by example.

I looked behind me and gasped. There were four men, all tall and scary looking and one them had really messed up hair. The burns were clear on his face and his hair had a big bald spot covered in more burns. That man was drenched in alcohol and water. I wince, "You didn't"

"I did, and I'll explain later, just let me get a goddamn taxi." He whistles, those ones with the two fingers in your mouth that I never understood how anyone could do. Soon enough one came right up just in time as the guys behind were gaining on us.

We got in and the blood rushed to my head in a not so pleasant sensation. There was yelling from behind us as the door closed, "where to?"

There was a moment of silence. Then I spoke up, "can you just get lost in the city for a bit? Somewhere with lots of taxis? Where we know there's no way to follow us? Then we'll tell you where to go. I'll pay." The driver was stunned, he was an older man. Probably his first time doing something like this.

Thomas turned to me with an awed smile on his face, "You'd think you did something like this before." He shakes his head and settles in his seat.

This was one of those special taxis, where there was a one way glass that could go up and down. Vancouver how awesome could you get? Music played and observing in high detail the taxi door I found the volume button. So when Shake came on I started singing along.

Thomas watched in amusement. "You're a bit buzzed aren't you?" I started dancing too and crawling over to Thomas I straddled him. A look of shock too over his features. "You're actually really drunk, aren't you?" I just smiled.

I started dancing, not really knowing what I was doing. When I grinded on him, his eyes widened to a comical expression and when I didn't stop he made a really sexy sound.

It was mix between a roar and a groan. It was animalistic, from the back of his throat and it made me hot down there.

He pulled me off him and when I was situated next to him, no contact at all he began panting. "Don't do that." I pout. He chuckles and I look over at him, "you're drunk off your mind. Here." and he proceeds to take off his sweater that makes me realize I didn't magically produce a shirt during our little taxi trip. I blush.

I gratefully put on the sweater and decide that I've had enough, "Four Seasons Hotel Please." Thomas flips his neck so quickly I'm surprised he didn't break it. His mouth is agape in shock; not surprisingly.

I made sure I got the best, and they even had a deal so it wasn't like $200 a night. Normally I'd settle for a 2 star hotel without any special amenities and $50 a night but for this trip- I'm indulging. Even the driver, who swiveled the glass down halfway, is shocked. Not like he argues, "'kay then."

The glass goes back up and I'm a little more sober. Or at least I'd like to think so but the sparkles coming out of my fingertips say something else. How many drinks did I have?

After a minute or two of silence, comfortable though- I felt no need to disrupt it but my curiosity got the best of me. "You've set someone on fire before?"

Thomas bursts out laughing, it dwindles into nervous chuckles. He scratches the back of his neck, "yeah, same way. People like to push me around, for a guy apparently 5'11 is 'short'.

"I was tripped; there was someone behind me with a drink and a friend that was smoking, and dot dot dot. I don't know why people think it's so weird or crazy, accidents happen. I mean if you believe in that stuff, I just say it to justify reasons I cannot explain. I'm actually a firm believer in fate, like how I met you. But that doesn't really work with setting someone on fire."

My stone heart melted. Not that I had a stone heart, but any woman hearing a man admit he believes in fate- the girly 'meant to be' circumstances- wouldn't stand a chance, stone heart or not. Then add the French accent and you've got a killer.

It helped that I could barely make sense of my surroundings.

The car stopped. We got off at the corner of the busy street. Reaching into my shoe without question I pay the driver. Thomas throws an amused glance my way, but shakes his head and doesn't say anything.

Dusk was just setting in and the chill creeped in through my temporary leather jacket. The sky was slowly turning purple, but dark clouds swam at the edges. In a moment of spontaneous inspiration, before Thomas could enter the 5-star hotel I drag him with me to go to dinner.

He didn't question- which was smart when it comes to an under the influence, hungry, passionate, and underneath dead tired, grown woman. He just followed along while I made my way to the pizza place walking distance away. I walked in with the intent of annihilating my already broken diet and burning off the cash contained in my mini wallet kept in my shoe.

00oo00oo00

Walking out of the pizza parlor with two slices of cheese pizza in hand we walk to a bench in the alleyway beside it. As soon as we got in Thomas made me drink an entire bottle of water, but it did clear my head so I didn't complain- much. I hand him one slice and he gives me an ice tea. I open the little sauce cup and dig in.

The bench is placed conveniently in a wide square space of concrete flooring with nothing else to address it. There are a few puddles where the ground was uneven from earlier rain. Looking up the sky, it's probably going to rain again.

As we sit in silence, it hits me I still know virtually nothing about Thomas, and if I was being truthful: I wanted to know everything. I mean he set someone on fire, and this was his supposed second time too. Don't blame me if I'm a little intrigued.

"Where are you from?" I ask after I've taken a bite. "Quebec, my parents are from France though. You?" downing my pizza with my cold drink I reply, "Lancaster; moved there when I was six from Seattle."

He smiles, "so you're American?" let's take a moment to inwardly awe at how adorable he says American. "Yeah, I'm American." He nods, already finished his pizza. "What brings you to-?"

We both begin, giggling I let him go first. "What brings you to Canada?" my mood vanishes. David had been only at the edge of my thoughts, even drunk. It seemed impossible to forget him. "I had the worst day of my life yesterday."

At this Thomas takes an intense genuine interest, "mmhmm?"

"There was this guy-David, we were getting married. Literally- and he dumped me in front of all my family and friends. He made me feel like crap knowing what buttons to press and it hurt a lot. I cashed in my honeymoon, even ate Girl Scout cookies for the first time and flew as quickly as I could to the city." I finish my pizza.

He nods, looking solemnly at the ground. He's the first one to break the silence, "I'm here for a funeral." I nod not really knowing how to answer, this was some heavy stuff for people who just met. And despite being unnaturally curious, id dropped it. It was clear he didn't want to talk about it.

"My full names Lucie Clare, I'm 23, a proud size 2...ish, I have a huge family and I love the rain." He glances over at me. I stick my hand out, he smiles and takes it, "I'm Thomas De Grace, I'm 25, don't even know my shoe size but I know 7 languages and I love to dance."

7 languages? "What languages?" he dims a bit but then starts up with a new excitement, "French, English, Italian, Spanish, Romanian, Greek, and Filipino." Geez, that's a lot. I haven't even heard of Romanian. Is that like a form of Italian or something?

"I don't mean to be annoying but can you say something to me?" he leans in and I freeze, he whispers in my ear "Tuo sorriso è più luminosa le stelle" I have no idea what he said, but it warmed me even in the chill evening.

I look into his eyes and notice for the first time his eyes aren't brown like I thought, up close they look blackish. But the black is a navy, I'm not certain how that color is possible, maybe contacts or some unique dark hazel- but they are the most stunning I have ever seen. Even David's crystal blue couldn't compete and I soon find myself lost.

There was a peaceful silence. Then came the awkward moment when we realized we were staring at each other and holding hands. We both pulled our hands away so quickly, it was as if they burned us. Our cheeks flamed in embarrassment... I think.

It started to rain- just softly, the familiar sound like gold to my ears. The streets were clearer; the lights shone brighter, the sky a dark grey. I smiled involuntarily. I clear my throat, "what'd that mean?" he blushes darkly and all I can think for a moment is how do humans breathe again? He stutters for a minute before dismissing it as a random quote. Random quote my ass, but I dismiss it anyways. I'll get it out of him one day.

He stands up abruptly. "Would you like to dance?" Thomas exclaims. "I don't dance." He gives me a knowing look. "So what do you call that earlier when-" I throw my empty can of soda at him, he ducks and laughs at me.

I'm feeling very sober now thanks to the water and food. The strange circumstances I found myself in this evening probably have a part in play too.

I try to keep a straight face for my sake but fail and laugh along with him. It's when we are laughing our worries away that the rain starts laughing along. The little drizzle turns into a shower. Drenched he offers a hand. What the hell.

With I can't lie blasting out of the restaurant beside us we dance foolishly and clumsily. I could honestly say I had never felt this carefree, David the farthest thing from my mind. If you were to ask I'd be like whose David?

And I'd owe it all to Thomas.