(Complete but Publishing Chapters In Progress) Rebound, Boundless Series, Book 1

Four

Dashing owed me nothing.

When curiosity got the better of me, I peered over at them. A beautiful blonde woman sat beside him. She was Amazonian—tall, slender, enhanced breasts stifled by a tight, shimmery red dress. I had hoped to summon the courage to say hi to him, but with a woman at his side, I buried that plan.

A few consumed drinks did nothing to quell the pang of disappointment. I watched as he sat close to the Blonde, their lips pressed against each other's ear as she giggled and patted his broad chest. There was no point in dwelling on Dr. Dashing. I leaned into Keta and said, "No one as hot as him would be single." We shrugged and nodded in agreement.

Keta passed me a shot glass. I downed the fiery liquid, feeling the warmth stream through my body. My nipples pearled with the heat. With inhibitions dampened, I shook and swayed my hips to the music.

A touch on my elbow made me freeze in place. I hoped it was Dashing, but the grip wasn't the same firmness I remembered on my ribs. When I turned to face the man, I was crestfallen, then intense anger took hold. In my platform heels, I towered over him, looking down at him.

Despite his attractiveness, he wasn't my type. Reminiscent of Ben, the interloper wasn't enough of a catch to abandon my girls. With a hopeful smile, he asked, "Can I buy you a drink?"

Displaying a stoic face, I answered, "No, thank you."

"How about a dance?" He rose slightly to shout in my ear.

I shook my head. "Sorry, no."

"Oh, come on. Can I just have a dance?" he persisted.

"Girls' night. No boys. Have a great night!" I said without a hint of a smile. As he lingered, my tone was slightly less patient, but remained calm, "If you'll excuse us, this is a private party." I turned my back to him. When the girls returned to drinking and dancing, I knew he'd taken off.

Shaking off the incident, we continued our celebration. Another round of shots was downed.

The waitress returned with another serving of light pink cocktails. We raised our glasses to toast the bride-to-be. I took a sip, then put mine down, grabbing a bottle of water instead. I motioned Keta and Darby to the crowd. They nodded in excitement. Darby led the way. In a chain, we held each other's hands as we walked toward the stairs, which led to the dance floor.

I couldn't resist peering at Dashing's lounge. To my surprise, he looked in our direction. An acknowledging grin brought out the dimples I'd longed to see again. Knowing he was with a date made me extend a chaste smile and a curt nod of acknowledgement—all that remained was for me to shout out 'sup' like I was one of his bros.

In an act of insecurity, I raked my fingers through my hair and pulled my loose curls over my shoulder. A cool breeze swept over me, alleviating my nerves.

We tunneled through small clusters of people. I felt a hand tug at my waist, pulling me around to face a handsome man with big muscles protruding from a tight, knitted shirt. He reminded me of Paul, spending hours at the gym sculpting his body with little interest in anything other than weightlifting, beer, and sex.

"Hey." The man grinned a megawatt smile. His capped teeth glowed under the flashing lights. "Dance with me," he said.

After I pushed his hand away, I looked him up and down with irritation. "That's not how you ask a lady."

Keta pulled me away.

When a new remix played, the three of us danced with each other. It felt like old times, when I battled some of my fellow dancers with the latest dance moves. Keta would do a few steps, and I'd mimic her, adding something different for her to repeat. We laughed and hugged, swaying to the music.

Men, who were already dancing with other girls, came over to grind behind us. We continuously moved away from undesirable encroachers.

When the song changed to a slower Reggae beat, we made our way to our lounge. The return walk was met with further challenges. Dances were requested, copious drinks were offered, and then more aggressive moves like being pulled by the arm or hips made my blood boil. I may have heard a marriage proposal.

A woman couldn't have fun without aggressive overtures by men.

As we passed Dashing's table, I ignored him completely.

I downed my water then took a few sips of my cocktail. The heat of the bodies in the room made me lightheaded. After pulling up my hair in a loose bun, I dabbed a damp napkin against my neck and chest. Chelz fanned me with the menu. We sat and talked about how much fun we were having. I grinned, delighted that she was happy.

Keta asked us to accompany her to the bathroom. I volunteered, grabbing my clutch. She led the way. As we passed Dashing's lounge, he looked up at me and gave me the most heart-stopping smile. I shyly smiled back. His date and the other women weren't seated on the couch.

As soon as he saw me, Dashing's friend with sandy blonde hair stopped speaking and gawked at me. When we made eye contact, he tipped his head. His eyes lingered over my body, then his visage turned icy. I felt la muerte chiquita—what my mom called an ominous chill. An awkward vibe made me turn away.

Inadvertently, I held the bathroom door for the three model-types from Dashing's party, who were exiting. Dashing's girlfriend led the pack. When they didn't thank us for holding the door, Keta grimaced and yelled, "You're welcome!"

I assessed myself in the wide mirror. I'd never felt sexier. My green dress enhanced all my curves, a road map to pleasure that Dashing was missing out on. But after seeing the tall blonde's willowy body, if that was what Dashing liked, I was never in contention.