I didn’t beat him in tennis, but the exercise helped release some of the sexual tension that has been building in me since I saw him shower. He didn’t get tired like I did, but he seemed to enjoy teasing me and making me run after the ball—watching me with a half a smirk on his face and thoughtful eyes.
We ended up playing four sets, and then I went back to shower. The thought of him naked in the shower was replaced with thoughts of him smashing the hell out of the tennis ball—which is somehow equally disturbingly sexy. But at least the knot in my stomach lessened some. Because we laughed and teased again—friendly, as usual.
We’re supposed to meet everyone at a club downtown.
As Trent and I arrive and give our names to the bouncer, we’re allowed inside and we both head toward a large VIP area at the back that consists of four booths facing each other.
I instantly spot Tahoe.
Tahoe’s smile freezes when he sees me. His eyes run over me in my red cocktail dress, once, twice, three times, and then a woman taps his shoulder. He takes a quick swig of his beer and turns, ducking his head to listen to something she has to say, scraping a restless hand over his jaw.
I’ve seen him with women a thousand times, so I don’t understand why this time makes me uncomfortable. I especially don’t understand it when Trent is so sweetly holding my hand.
“Roth,” Trent interrupts and greets him.
“Davis.” Tahoe doesn’t look at me as he grabs and shakes Trent’s hand.
His lips curl the barest fraction as he glances in my direction, but his stare is dark and he’s deathly quiet, not speaking a word to me at all.
What’s going on?
Are we not friends anymore?
What did I do wrong?
“Come on, let’s get you something to drink.” Trent leads me to the bar and we watch as the server makes me a cocktail. We sit at the bar with our drinks, avoiding the crowded dance floor, but past my shoulders, I keep looking at Tahoe with an awful feeling in my chest. He didn’t tease me. He didn’t even say hi.
Through the corner of my eye, I watch Tahoe move to join Saint, Callan, and Emmett in their booth. A bottle of beer in his hand, his features scrunched into a thoughtful frown as he stares at the liquid. He alternates between taking a swig of his beer, and staring into the bottle as if it holds the answer to the most pressing mystery.
Tahoe is always the guy who’s laughing. But tonight I notice the absence of his laughter.
Our eyes meet again, and his eyes are dark and stormy and I feel the storms raging inside me too. I remember the Pier.
Until this moment I hadn’t realized how much I missed that with him. How I kind of wish I was over there, just so I could tease him or talk to him. How I kind of want to be sure that we’re still as close as I thought we were yesterday. But there’s this huge feeling of restlessness in me, as if things are changing and I don’t know how to change them back.
Wasn’t this trip supposed to be about me getting closer to Trent? a little voice inside my head asks.
But now all I can think of is why Tahoe isn’t smiling and why he’s not even trying to tease me. He’s so….hard to read. Tahoe can be smiling, but his eyes can be SO dark you could get lost in that gaze. I find myself always thinking of him and the shadows that I see, as well as the smiles he flashes that make the shadows vanish completely.
I’ve often sensed that his public persona is meant to keep anyone from looking too closely. I’m the only one who really looks. No, not true, many people look. He’s this beast of a modern Viking, of course everyone looks. But am I the only one who really sees that behind the smile there is something more?
And yet tonight he’s not even bothering with the smile, he’s not even trying to have fun. It’s as if he’s not interested.
Did I do something wrong?
As if reading my mind, I watch Tahoe studiously take in Trent before he takes me in next, his Nordic-blue eyes looking up and down my red dress again, and beads of sweat form on my neck under his gaze and I run a hand through my hair, self-conscious.
The same girl taps his shoulder once more and they begin to chat, and I see his mouth flip into a smile.
Again I wish I was over there standing with him, listening to whatever it is he’s saying to her that finally made his dimple show. I can still see his profile and a smile linger on his lips, but I wonder if his eyes are a part of that smile or if they remained dark and mysteriously thoughtful, like they just were with me.
I shake the thought away, finish my drink, and ask Trent to dance with me.
I dance all my confusions and frustrations of the night away, never once looking at anyone else, worrying about anyone else, just letting myself get lost in me.
*
I’m relieved when we take a break and decide to sit down at the bar, and as if the alcohol has broken whatever barrier stood between us, Tahoe comes to sit beside me while Trent chats up Tahoe’s redhead. The moment Tahoe sits, we’re inundated with waiters, all offering us drinks and anything that we want.
I can tell that Callan’s date is delighted with Tahoe. She tells him he has the smile of a lady-killer and that she likes his dimple.