Beyond Control (8 page)

She stopped scooping the linguine and looked at me. “Three weeks ago, nothing would have shaken you to your core like this. You knew what you wanted to do, and you worked hard to get here.”

“And I’m beginning to wonder how long a person can lie to themselves before they realize they’ve made some pretty huge mistakes.”

The day had flown by, and I’d even managed to have my little discussion with the team about pulling accurate data without feeling all knotted up about it. Rather than lunch at the French café, Brandy and I worked out, and I was already starting to feel more like myself; the self who was okay with creating a life in the business world and concentrating on my career first.

My dad needed to cancel our lunch on Friday, and I had to admit I was completely relieved. I didn’t feel like getting a lecture about Aaron, or what I needed to do to welcome him back with open arms.

It was close to five o’clock, and I had already shut my laptop down, when the phone rang. I picked it up, hoping there would be no last minute requests, and glanced at the number on the screen, not recognizing it.

“This is Gabrielle,” I spoke into the phone, waving at Brandy through the glass. She was counting the seconds until we could take off for the night’s festivities.

“Hey, It’s Jason with JB Metal Works,” his voice cool and lacking the playfulness I’d grown accustom to receiving. “I’m sorry to do this, but I was hoping to change our scheduled drop-off.”

“Oh, sure.” My heart plummeted as I realized even with this small conversation I was hoping for the ridiculous.

“Great. Thanks. I really appreciate it. Something’s come up and—” he stopped himself. “Anyway, would you prefer Friday or I can do next week.”

He was all business.

“Friday’s great. Then I can ride out of here and never return,” I teased, hoping to draw something out of him. “I’ve been dreaming about my bike. I haven’t gotten to see it in detail yet. And it’s nice to only have to wait until tomorrow now.”

“Is that so?” he asked, the lightheartedness bouncing back into his voice. “I didn’t take you for the kind who’d just take off.”

“I guess it depends on which mood you catch me in,” I said, surprising myself with the admission.

I felt his smile deepen. “Well, I’d love to get to know them all at some point.”

My stomach fluttered like I was in ninth grade again, and I wondered how he could do this with nothing more than a sentence.

“I bet you would.”

“Will seven o’clock be okay to drop it off tomorrow? Will that give you enough time to get home from work?” he asked.

“Yeah. That works,” I told him, rattling off my home number in case he needed to reach me before the delivery. “So are you going to fill me in on what constituted calling a client to make a switch for an already scheduled delivery?” I asked, hoping to toy with him.

“No, wasn’t planning to, Gabby. Have a nice night.”

And he hung up.

Shit!

“Ready to go home and change?” Brandy whispered, coming into my office. “We’ve got places to be.”

My hand was still on the phone, and she stopped in place, seeing the expression on my face. “What happened?”

“I think I scared him away,” I said.

“Doubtful,” she said reassuringly.

“Nope. I’m pretty sure I did. But what’s meant to be will be, right?”

“Let’s put everything out of our minds and just have fun tonight,” she said determined not to let her plan fall apart. I was sure she could sense the hermit in me ready to wave its white flag in surrender.

We arrived at the Tattered Door and slipped through the line with ease. Thanks had to be given to Brandy’s less-than-there gray dress because it wouldn’t have been my outfit that got us in the door. I had pulled on a pair of black jean shorts and a red off–the-shoulder top. It was a cute outfit that I had on, but it didn’t ooze sex like Brandy’s.

“Aren’t we too old for this place?” I whispered to Brandy once inside.

“How could we’ve been the right age a month ago and now we’re too old?” she asked exasperated as she pulled me over to the bar. “Knock it off.”

I looked over at the bartender, and he gave me a quick wink from the other end of the bar. I smiled back as he walked toward us. He was probably our age or a little older. His blonde hair was long and shaggy, but he managed to keep it away from his face enough so I could see his blue eyes and chiseled features. He was good looking. There was no denying it, but there was a certain something missing.

“He’s hot,” Brandy whispered.

“Mmhm,” I said, nodding.

“Let me guess your drinks,” he said, now standing in front of us. “A lemon blueberry martini for you.” He looked at Brandy and then turned to me. “And a cucumber-tini for you.”

How annoying.

“That sounds great,” Brandy gushed.

“Actually, the cucumber thing sounds really good, but I’ll take an IPA. Whatever you have on tap.”

“Comin’ up.” He tapped the counter, smiling at Brandy and spun around.

It was a quarter to nine and the music would be starting soon. The booths had begun to fill up in the short time we’d been discussing life choices with the bartender, and I started getting antsy.

“See. Here’s the difference. Right now, I want to find a booth to slip into and stake claim on for the night. A month ago, we wouldn’t even roll into a place like this for another hour or so and would do the standing room only thing,” I told her.

“I have to confess… I was thinking the same thing.” She smiled. “You go grab a booth, and I’ll bring our drinks over.”

“Thank god we ate leftovers at the house, or we’d do the unthinkable next and order food,” I said, laughing.

“The night’s not over,” she teased, turning back to the bartender.

I walked across the vacant dance floor to the corner table and slid into the booth. I watched a group of girls funnel into the club and head directly to the bar right as the music turned up and the lights dimmed. The constant trickle of bodies continued to infiltrate the place. All the smiling faces and laughter began to loosen me up, and I realized—as usual—that Brandy knew what I needed. I craned my neck to see her walking toward the table with the drinks, grinning ear to ear, as she cradled shot glasses between her thumb and index finger.

“You look absolutely devious,” I said, as she slid me my beer and a shot.

“Did you see that group of guys who came in?” she asked, her eyes glimmering from the overhead lights.

“No. Where are they?” I asked. I took a sip of my beer and followed her index finger. They were on the far side of the bar, and most of them looked pretty incredible, even from this far away. Or maybe that’s why they looked so great because they were so far away.

“They look like grad students,” she said, quirking her brow and then turning back to face me. “Buttery nipple shot time.”

We both grabbed a shot glass and flipped our necks back. The sweetness of the liquid coated my throat as I swallowed and then slammed the shot glass down on the table.

“Damn.”

“That ought to start things off right,” she laughed, sliding into the booth.

The dance floor was starting to fill up, and I was starting to get the itch to get out there. I always loved dancing, especially as I swallowed more liquid courage.

I took another sip of my beer as one of the servers appeared. She placed a reserved sign on our table as she glided up to us. She was dressed in a black shirt and shorts, and her hair was in a cute pixie. I’d always wanted my hair like that, but chickened out every time I was about to do it.

“Would you like another?” the server asked.

We both nodded and took a swig of our drinks as she wandered away.

“Question for you,” Brandy asked.

Uh-oh.

“Yeah?”

“If mister bike builder person were here right now, what would you do?” she asked coyly.

My heart started pounding at the mere thought of him being at the bar. I scanned the room quickly and didn’t see him anywhere. The place had filled up. All the booths were taken, and all the small seating areas in the lounge area were full, too, so anything was possible.

“Why? He’s not here, is he?” I shifted closer to hear her answer over the crowded bar.

Her lips broke into a smile and she shook her head. Grabbing my hand, she hauled me onto the dance floor as a remixed Justin Timberlake song came on.

“Which one is this?” I yelled as the music drifted through the air.

“
Mirrors
! Remember?” She spun me around and I started laughing. How could I forget? It was a week before finals, and we were at a party at her ex-boyfriend’s house because she was too nice to say no. Once this song had come on, he lifted her off the couch and started dancing with her slowly. She was mortified and he was wasted. Brandy felt sorry for him so she finished out the song before we hightailed it out of there.

“And to say I have guy problems?” I teased, letting go of her hand as Daft Punk’s
Get Lucky
came on. The floor was completely crowded as we kept dancing. The heat of everyone’s bodies was making the dance floor almost unbearable, but I was having too much fun bouncing around. It felt good to let myself remember that it was okay to act my age. I was taking this job and myself far too seriously.

As the music boomed out of the speakers, I saw one of the guys from earlier cozy up next to Brandy, which only made her grin as she wriggled around in front of him. The guy seemed harmless. He was one of the cute ones. Light brown hair and a clean shave almost made him look preppy, except for the tattoos that were dipping out of both sleeves. Brandy would be happy about that.

I saw the server weaving through the crowd to drop off our drinks at our table, and I made my way off the floor. That was one of our rules. Never leave the drinks unattended. As I sat down and told the server thank you, I saw the back of someone, who looked vaguely familiar, disappear into the crowd. I wanted to place her, but I couldn’t. Not sure why it really mattered, I took a swallow of beer and felt the worries drift away.

Brandy must have spotted the refills because she darted right over, leaving the guy on the floor. Her cheeks were rosy from dancing and her breathing hard.

“Yummie,” she squealed, sipping on her blueberry cocktail. She sat down and started fanning herself off. “It’s more fun in the winter when it’s not hot outside.”

“You’re sounding like me.” I leaned back and watched everyone dancing and having a good time. I had no idea what time it was and didn’t really care.

“Isn’t that the chick who Jason was with that night?” Brandy asked, pointing through the crowd. I couldn’t see anyone who looked like the tall blonde I remembered from that night, so I scooted onto my knees on the seat cushion and tried to make like a giraffe.

“That’s her,” I muttered. That’s who I’d seen but couldn’t place, probably on purpose.

My brows pulled together in confusion as I watched her. She wasn’t acting like someone who had a boyfriend. In fact, I kind of felt weird for looking at her as she began writhing up against a guy. Her back was to him and he was pressing into her, running his hands up along her sides. I didn’t see Jason anywhere around.

I plopped back down into the booth and frowned.

“She’s all over some guy out there,” I said.

“Really?” she asked, popping back up from the booth to take a look.

Brandy’s mouth dropped open as she looked out to the dance floor.

“What?” I demanded. “What am I missing?”

“She’s making out with the guy who was just dancing with me.” She crossed her arms and pouted, sliding back into the booth. “Whore.”

“Her or him?” I questioned.

“Him of course. This blows.”

I started laughing and had to agree with her as we continued to watch the dance floor become standing room only.

“I have to admit something to you,” I yelled over the music.

Her brow quirked up as she drank her cocktail and waited for me to continue.

“I’m kind of dreaming about getting into a bubble bath and reading a good book,” I told her.

She bit her lip and started giggling. “I kind of figured as much. It’s more fun when we’ve got a guy to dance with who isn’t so eager to go suck face with anyone who’s willing.”