This is going better than I'd thought it would. I'm not sure what exactly is in the air today but Emma isn't stirring up trouble, Dastan is being a decent human being, Anne isn't looking at me like I'm trying to steal her boyfriend, and Connor… well, Connor is perfect like always. I'm about to start checking for Alien inhabitants because something is fishy here.
It only gets weirder at the diner we've stopped off in to grab a quick dinner before finding the nearest club to celebrate Anne's last night in New York. Dastan turns to Connor and says in his best approximation of a friendly voice, "Nice car," he nods toward the car visible through the diner window. I watch his face the entire time, he looks like he's being force fed cat litter.
"Thanks," Connor nods.
"Laguna Seca?" Dastan asks, I'm not sure what that means and a small part of me is suspicious that he might have just called Connor a name in a different language. But Connor doesn't seem offended, he smiles. At Dastan? I'm not sure what happens then but suddenly they're throwing around words like Recaro sport seats, a Torsen limited-slip rear differential, and a larger rear stabilizer. They're laughing and tossing around these strange words and my brain can't comprehend what exactly is going on right now.
"What just happened?" I ask Anne across the table. She looks just as lost as I do. Her mouth opened in a slight 'o' her eyes wide as she watches the two men. Emma snorts and takes a long pull from the straw in her milkshake. I keep my eyes on Dastan and Connor convinced that at any moment one of them is going to pounce across the table and rip the others arm off.
"Men." Anne says, shaking her head, her auburn locks swaying chaotic ally around her shoulders. I laugh, she's right. Only men could go from wanting to tear each other apart to bonding over their shared love of cars. Typical. We leave them to it and go back to our meals and they keep going until we're all done. I'm not even sure how they have this much to say about cars, in fact I'm convinced that they aren't even speaking English right now. We're all sliding our of the booth and they're still going, I roll my eyes and turn to Anne.
"So, are you excited to be going back to London?" I ask conversationally. She gives a slight shrug as if it's another one of those things.
"Not really," at this she glances at Dastan from the corner of her eye. Of course! She's got to leave before he does, she's probably going to miss him.
"When are you going back?" I ask Dastan, he gives me a confounded look, raises his thick black brows in askance.
"I'm not," he says slowly, like he already expects me to know this. He looks confused, unsure. "I got into Columbia for Law school, I'm moving back home." He got into law school? In Columbia? When did that happen? I'm not sure exactly why I get the feeling he doesn't expect a good reaction from me, maybe it's the way his shoulders bunch up as if he's preparing to fight. I can't focus on any of that, I'm flying on a cloud of elation. He's always wanted this, it was Tommy and Dastan's dream to go to law school at Columbia together. He did it! Pride, a bone deep sense of gratification erupts from somewhere inside me. It swells in my chest, filling me up and blotting out everything that isn't this euphoria. Apparently it also robs me of common sense and dignity because next thing I know there's a sound somewhere between a squeal and a shriek leaving my body and I fling myself at Dastan before I can think of all the reasons that might be a bad idea.
He reacts the way any sane person who's faced with a shrieking, blonde ball of excitement hurtling at them would: he catches me. His thick arms band around my middle, his hands meeting on either side of my waist. I feel his palms searing through the thin shift of my white dress. My skin warms under his touch. The familiar woodsy smell of him cocoons me and there it is again that feeling of correctness. The feeling of all the stars and planets aligning just so. I pull back and he looks down at me. His breaths tickle my face, I feel my lashes flutter from the force of it. I'm close enough that I can count the specks of gold and amber threaded through his ebony irises. There's something in this moment, something charged that I refuse to examine further. He looks away first, clears his throat and sets my feet back on the ground.
I take a step back putting that much-needed distance between us. Whatever that was, I'd rather not do this right here with Anne, Emma and Connor as witnesses. "Congratulations," I say. My voice sounds strange, breathy and I clear my throat a bit before continuing. "I'm so proud of you." It's the truth. No matter what happens between us I will always celebrate Dastan's wins. Especially this, especially the dream he shared with Tommy. There's a brief flash of shock that passes over his face, he doesn't trust this. He expects the news to upset me, that's odd. But then recognition sets in and he seems to come to the conclusion that my reaction has more to do with him achieving what he and Tommy set out to do. He reaches out and gives my upper arm a brief squeeze while offering me a tight-lipped smile. It's not much but the acknowledgement is enough. For right now, just tonight, we're good.
Dastan's news only heightens the celebration. We find ourselves at one of the busy nightclubs in Hell's Kitchen. It's absolute pandemonium. People crowd around the bar shouting at the four bartenders working, making it hard to hear anything over the cacophony. The lights flashing green, blue and red are blinding and make seeing more than two feet in front of your face next to impossible. It's perfect. We lose ourselves in the crowd, bodies pushing against each other, it forces our little group to stick close. All of us are dancing right next to each other.
My body is pressed against Connor's, he's got his hands on my hips guiding my movements while my fingers play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, it feels good. So normal, ordinary. It's almost like I can pretend to be a regular twenty-two year old, with nothing to worry over but this new guy I might really like. But obviously I'm never allowed to pretend for long because it's in that moment that I hear a voice shouting over the blaring sounds of the dance floor. He's saying something about a narc and I turn around to see what the commotion is about, the fact that I can hear him tells me he's shouting. My heart freezes, he's talking to Emma.
It's a hulking Mexican man with tattoos all up his arms and the side of his face, his dark hair reflects the strobe lights and he's wearing a fitted black t-shirt that makes me think I'd rather not be in a fight with him. I shift closer, pushing against the bodies between Emma and I, I feel Connor do the same behind me. Good, at least we'll have his help if this gets ugly.
My heart pounds in time with the drum beat of the current song, I'm not sure which is louder at this point. "You've got some nerve showing your face here." He's yelling, he looks menacing with his heavy set brows shadowing his eyes and his mouth pulled into a sneer. I don't understand what he's talking about but I don't like the way he's looking at Emma, like she's a pest he wants to squish beneath his boot.
I fight my way to her side, Connor hot on my heels. Dastan's had the same idea because he flanks her other side. His appearance draws the man's attention. If it's possible the big guys face only grows angrier. Emma still hasn't said a word, she's just standing there. Her eyes are saucers in her face, framed by the black rims of her glasses. She looks pale but that might be the flashing lights draining her skin.
"I see you haven't learned your lesson about hanging around with cops," he continues. My heart drops, it hangs suspended somewhere near my knees. What did he just say? Why would he need to teach Emma a lesson about hanging around cops? Oh no, what did you get yourself into Emma?
I move forward, I want to place myself between Emma and whoever this creep is, even though I know it won't do much good. Before I move more than two inches Dastan interjects; "What did you just say to her?" He's got that look in his eyes again, the one that sets the coal of his eyes blazing. His jaw is clenched and his fists at his sides seem to vibrate with the force he's exerting to keep them where they are.
"Stay out of it, pretty boy, unless you want me to rearrange your face again." Says the gigantic mass of muscle standing between us and the exit. Again? What does he mean again? Is this someone Dastan knows? But that doesn't make sense because why would he be harassing Emma if he knows Dastan? What's going on right now? I must make a sound because his attention snaps to me.
There's a cruel expression on his face, one that makes me brace for the worst. I've seen that look in people's eyes before, right as they something horrible and demeaning. "Oh, so you survived that bullet." Yup, there it is. Only that's not the look of a man who's read about my story in the papers, that's the look of a man who's genuinely surprised I didn't bleed out on my living room floor with the rest of my family. The base of my skull throbs with an untapped memory, something nagging to be noticed. My breath catches halfway out of my lungs, every cell in my body halting to take notice of this moment.
"You don't get to look at her, you're talking to me now. " Dastan's menacing voice cuts through the buzzing in my skull. He looks dangerous, savage. The leather of his jacket reflecting the red lights, the sheen of his dark sapphire hair falling across the hard planes of seraphic face. That look usually spells trouble, I know Dastan is bigger than he used to be but I don't think that qualifies him to take on this guy.
"I don't get to?" Mexican Shrek laughs mockingly, that's not the right thing to do. I watch Dastan's fingers flex, his body radiating rage from Emma's other side. "Whose gonna stop me? You?"
"Come a little closer you'll find out." Dastan hisses between his teeth. I've never seen him like this. He's so angry, I don't even understand what's happening. Why is he letting this idiot get to him.
"So, you're making threats now?" his voice is mocking, condescending. He's talking down to Dastan, doubting his ability to defend Emma. We all hear but there's a quality of derision in his tone that has me paying a little more attention. There's history here, I can feel it. But none of it is adding up.
Dastan's body visibly tenses, he's going to run out of self-control soon. I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the tension in his frame quivering in fury. I speak up in an attempt to divert some of that negativity. Maybe if I can diffuse the situation we can all walk out of here without causing destruction to public property. "What do you even want?"
"Maybe you should listen to your boyfriend and stay out of this one, sweetheart. Besides I can think of better uses for your mouth." The big guy leers at me, his eyes raking over me from head to toe. There's a revoltingly satisfied smirk painted across his tattooed visage.
"I suggest you hold your tongue before I rip it from your head." Dastan expression gives nothing away but his voice is strained, fierce. The rumbling from deep in his broad chest. The guy doesn't stop staring, his eyes roaming across every inch of exposed skin. I wish I'd worn jeans instead of this barely there dress. I step back unconsciously, Connor lays an intentional hand on my shoulder. His fingers tight against my skin. I watch as tattoos registers the hand, his eyes swinging from me, to Connor, and then over to Dastan on Emma's other side.
"Oh, are you pimping her out now?" His eyes land on me, giving me a suggestive once-over. I feel Connors body go rigid behind me but he's not done yet. "How much does this one cost?" Dastan makes a sound like an animal about to attack, it comes from somewhere in the back of his throat and makes the hairs on my arm stand on end. Before any of us can move an inch all I see is Dastan lunging toward the man, his arm cocks back and hurtles forwards toward the big guys face. The man flies back, crashing into the crowd that had formed behind him, Dastan isn't done. He becomes a flurry of limbs swings and landing painful hits to every inch of the other man he can reach. He's lost complete control.
Connor snaps into motion as the clubs security start making their way to us. He grabs hold of Dastan's arms as he readies to swing again and hauls him backward. Emma, Anne and I move in front of him and herd him to the exit. He's shouting profanities the whole way but I'm too concerned about the unhinged look in his obsidian eyes to care about much else. Someone needs to talk him off the edge.