Page 71 of My Real Love Affair

But it hadn’t felt professional when she kissed me back. I could still feel the tiny scratches across my chest from her nails. She had acted like a woman starving for me.

“Fuck,” I said to the empty room.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Rodney’s number. Hit call and waited.

He answered on the third ring. I could hear the sound of his favorite video game in the background. He was in for the night playing a little Call of Duty.

“Get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Out? Now?”

“Yeah. Now. I need a drink. And a distraction.”

“Where’s your girlfriend?” He taunted and I could hear the hurt in his voice. I had abandoned him over the weekend. He was pissed and disappointed.

“Do you want to go out or not?” I shot back.

“Give me twenty minutes. I know just the place.”

Forty-five minutes later, we were at one of those clubs where the music was too loud and the drinks were too expensive and everyone was too beautiful. The kind of place I used to frequent before Melody had walked into my life and complicated everything.

Rodney bought the first round. Then the second. By the third, I was feeling the pleasant buzz that came with not thinking too hard about anything. It was how I typically spent most weekends. Drunk enough not to care but not so drunk I couldn’t dance or perform. It was a careful balance.

“So,” Rodney shouted over the music. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Want to dance with that blonde who’s been staring at you for the past ten minutes?”

I glanced over. Sure enough, a gorgeous blonde in a dress that left little to the imagination was giving me the look. The one I recognized. The one that said she knew who I was and what she wanted.

A week ago, I would’ve been all over that. Would’ve bought her a drink, charmed her, taken her home.

Now?

Now all I could think about was the way Melody had looked at me when she said I wasn’t what my father thought I was.

“Sure,” I said anyway. “Why not?”

I made my way across the dance floor. The blonde smiled as I approached. There was a predatory gleam in her eyes. She was looking at me like a hungry lion eyed a big, juicy steak.

“Austin Bancroft,” she said, her voice a purr. “I was hoping you’d come over.”

“Here I am.”

We danced. She pressed close, her hands on my chest, my shoulders, my neck. All the signals were there. All I had to do was lean in. Kiss her. Take her home.

But I couldn’t stop comparing.

Her perfume was too sweet. Not that light citrus like Melody’s. Her laugh was too high-pitched. Not genuine like Melody’s. Her touch felt wrong. Every look felt calculated. Like she wanted something from me beyond just this moment.

After two songs, I excused myself to get another drink.

Rodney raised an eyebrow as I rejoined him at the bar. “That was fast.”

“Not feeling it.”

“You? Not feeling it? With that?” He gestured toward where the blonde was already talking to another guy. “Try feeling her again.”