Tyler though . . . just walking up, eyeballs clicked as he passes the line and heads toward the velvet rope of the VIP entrance. His muscles bulge under his shirt, still a Tommy Bahama but a tighter, more form fitting cut that showed off his biceps more, and black dress jeans that are probably a 'normal' fit, but with his muscled thighs and hips, look more like slim fit or skinny fit. I can't help but notice the curve of the bulge in between his legs, something that never crossed my mind all those year ago. I've got the hottest man in the club on my arm, and I can already feel the looks of the she-wolves in line.
The doorman waves us through without even a second glance, and we're inside. The music is driving, with an undercurrent of sexuality that winds through every beat of the bass. "Whoa . . ."
"It's nice," Tyler agrees, looking around. The music isn't so loud that he needs to shout, the club's set up so that the speakers are aimed toward the dance floor, leaving the bar area a little less deafening. "I've seen bigger, but this is good. Come on, let's get some drinks and then hit up the floor."
I'm so surprised I can barely answer as Tyler leads me to the bar, where he orders a sangria for himself, and I decide on a Cosmo. I'm not into drinking normally, but maybe tonight, maybe I can use a little liquid courage. "Cosmo girl, huh?"
"Not normally," I say, sipping at it. It's better than I thought it'd be, and I smile a little. "Just . . . it goes with your sangria."
Tyler looks at his blood red drink, then at mine, and laughs in understanding. "A toast. To a good season, and a fun night."
We clink glasses, and Tyler takes a drink, just measured enough to not be a sip, but not tossing it back like a party boy. I sip at mine, enjoying the feeling of the warmth spreading through my belly and helping me out. I know it's too early for the booze to be really affecting me, but it's the mental edge that counts.
"Come on, let's dance," Tyler says when he's finished his drink. Taking my hand, we go out to the dance floor, where the DJ is remixing some Top 40 with a heavier bass beat. We find some space, and I try to dance, but I'm so nervous that I can't really get into it. Meanwhile, Tyler's like poetry in motion, with none of the weird jerkiness that so many guys seem to have when they dance. He's balanced, strong, powerful, and pure manly hotness that has me starting to sweat two minutes into the song.
"Relax!" Tyler says with a laugh as we continue. "You're moving like you've got two left feet!"
"I do!" I call back, and Tyler laughs again. We finish the dance, and head back up to the bar, where I take a seat. "Sorry, I guess I'm not that great of a dancer."
“You’re fine, it'll come in time and we've got all night," Tyler answers. He's smiling, and I wonder what he has planned. There's a sparkle in his eye, and I don’t know whether to be excited, or terrified. I can’t go start something with Tyler Paulson — I’m supposed to be his assistant, not his booty call. "I think you just need to relax. Dancing, it's not about steps or anything, but just feeling the flow, and getting out of your own way. Think about it, I'm going to go get some more drinks."
While I'm waiting, I look over to see two of the she-wolves in the club go up to Tyler. One of them is cute with a skin tight dress and curves that belong on a porn star, while the other has more of a ballet dancer body, but just as pretty. I've got nothing on them, and as they chat up Tyler, the three of them share a drink before he's easily pulled away back to the dance floor. In a few minutes he's grinding with the one while the other is all over his back. I'm jealous, because I saw it in his eyes . . . he's up for some action tonight. While I'm not normally the type of girl to go hot and heavy so soon, for Tyler . . . my panties are fucking soaked, and it's not just from the exercise. I know I shouldn’t, but if he put the moves on me, I don’t know if I could turn him down. The way he looked at me, on the floor and just a few minutes ago, I felt like maybe it was coming.
Sadly, arousal turns to disappointment as I watch Tyler keep dancing. They're all over him, and by the end of the second song one of them leans into his ear, whispering something. Tyler's slightly glazed look tells me exactly what he's been asked, and he nods a second later, a shark grin on his face. They leave without Tyler even checking in with me, and I go up to the bar, ordering another Cosmo.
"Hey baby, wanna dance?"
I turn to see a guy, not ugly by any means. He's a little taller than me, and while not super ripped, he’s cute. But I came in with Tyler, and the sight of him dancing on the floor with me is still stuck in my head. I shake my head, and toss back the rest of my drink. "Sorry, no. I think I've had enough for tonight."
I leave Ace High, and I feel like every girl in the club sees the way that I'm walking, my head down, trying not to run out but not really walking either. Outside, I grab a cab, glad that I had kept my emergency forty dollars inside my bra. "Where to?"
"Cabbagetown," I say with a sigh. "I'll give you directions when we get closer."
The drive's not too long, and by the time I get back to my place, my depression has changed into anger. I know I’m supposed to just show him a good time, and I know I'm shy, but that's no reason to treat me like that. Stewing, I change into my nightclothes and go to bed, promising myself that tomorrow, I'm going to give Tyler Paulson a piece of my mind.
Chapter 5
Tyler