Andrew rounds his chin and I can see his nostrils flare as he gets in the buff guy’s face and says, “Back the fuck off or you’re eatin’ your teeth.”
The small crowd from around the pool tables is gathering at a distance.
The blond guy, the smarter one of the two, puts his hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man, let’s head back over.” He nods toward wherever they must’ve been sitting before.
The buff guy pushes his hand off him and steps up in Andrew’s face further.
That’s all it took.
Andrew rears back with the pool stick and bashes it across the guy’s chest, knocking him from his feet and the breath from his lungs. The guy stumbles backward, narrowly missing my table but reaches out to grab the edge of it to keep him on his feet. I yelp and yank my purse from the top of it just before it goes crashing onto the floor with him. My beer shatters against the floor. Before the guy can get up, Andrew is on top of him, standing over him raining his fists down on his face.
I push myself farther away and closer to the end of the staircase, but other people are rushing in to see now and they create a barrier behind me.
The blond guy jumps on Andrew from behind, grabbing him around the neck to pull him off his friend. Then I jump on him, beating the side of his face with my flimsy little fist, my purse wrapped tightly around my shoulder hindering my blows as it flops around behind me. But Andrew gets out of the blond guy’s hold easily, swings around behind him and kicks him square in the back, sending him onto the floor face-first.
Andrew grabs my wrist.
“Move out of the way, baby!” He shoves me back toward the crowd behind me and turns back to the two guys in a split-second.
The buff guy has finally gotten back to his feet, but not for long when Andrew comes around with two fast punches to both sides of his jaw and then one blood-splattering uppercut to the underside. I see a bloody tooth fall onto the floor. I cringe. The guy falls backward into another small table, knocking it from its metal base, too. And when the blond guy comes at Andrew again, the guy Andrew had been playing pool with jumps in and takes him on, leaving Andrew to the buff guy.
By the time the bouncers get through the crowd to break up the fight, Andrew has already blackened both the buff guy’s eyes and blood is draining from his nostrils. The buff guy stumbles, holding his hand over his nose as the bouncer pulls him by the shoulder toward the crowd.
Andrew pushes away the other bouncer’s hand that comes after him. “I got it,” he threatens, putting up one hand telling the bouncer to back off, and wiping a trickle of blood from his nose with the other. “I’m out of here, no need to help me see the door.”
I run over to him and he takes my hand.
“Camryn, are you OK? Did you get hit?” He’s looking me over everywhere, his eyes fierce and uncontrolled.
“No, I’m fine. Let’s just go.”
He tightens his hand around mine and pulls me beside him, pushing our way through the parting crowd.
When we make it outside into the night air, the funneling music from the bar shuts off once the door closes. The two idiot guys from the fight are already outside walking down the street, the buff guy still with his hand pressed over his bloodied face. I’m convinced Andrew broke his nose.
Andrew stops me on the sidewalk and takes my upper-arms into his hands. “Don’t lie to me, baby, did you get hurt anywhere? I swear to fucking God if you did I’m going after them.”
He’s melting my heart, calling me ‘baby’. And that concerned, fierce look in his eyes … I just want to kiss him.
“I mean it,” I say, “I’m fine. I actually hit that one guy a few times myself when he jumped you from behind.”
He moves his hands from my arms and cups my face in his palms, looking me all over as if he still doesn’t believe me.
“I’m not hurt,” I say one last time.
He presses his lips hard against my forehead.
Then he grabs my hand. “We’re going back to the hotel.”
“No,” I argue, “we were having a good time and dammit, I lost my buzz because of that.”
He tilts his head to one side and softens his gaze.
“Where do you want to go then?”
“Let’s go to another club,” I suggest. “I don’t know, maybe a more laid-back one?”
Andrew sighs heavily and squeezes my hand. Then he looks me up and down again: first my feet where my painted toenails are peeking through the front of my heels and then up my body straight to my tight strapless black top that could use a little adjusting.
I pull my hand from his and grasp the fabric above my boobs and pull the top up a little so that it feels better in place.
“I love you in that,” he says, “but you have to admit, it’s a distraction for douchebags.”
“Well, I don’t want to walk all the way back to the hotel just to change my top.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says, reaching for my hand again. “But if you want to go to another club, you’re gonna have to do something for me, alright?”
“What?”
“Just pretend you’re my girlfriend,” he says and a little smile spreads across my lips. “At least that way no one will fuck with you, or they’re less likely to try, anyway.”
He pauses and looks at me and says, “Unless you want guys to hit on you?”
It takes no time at all for my head to start shaking. “No. I do not want any guys to hit on me. Innocent flirting, fine—it does wonders for my confidence—but not douchebags.”
“Good, then it’s settled. You’re my sexy girlfriend for the night, which means I get to take you back to the room later and make you squeal a little.” There’s that boyish grin of his again that I love so much.
I’m tingling between the legs now. I swallow hard and play it off by playfully narrowing my eyes at him.
I’m just glad to see his dimples again, as opposed to that wrathful—although incredibly sexy—expression that consumed his features moments ago.
“As much as I like it—well, ‘like’ is really putting it lightly—I’m not going to let you do that anymore.”
He looks hurt and a little shocked. “Why not?”
“Because, Andrew, I … well, I just won’t let you—now come here.” I cup my hands around the sides of his neck and pull him toward me.
And then I kiss him softly, letting my lips linger on his afterwards.
“What are you doing?” he asks, staring down into my eyes.
I
