Kaleidoscope Hearts (23 page)

“Finally! You made it,” my brother says, looking genuinely happy as he stands to pull me into a hug. “This is my sister Estelle. She can vouch for us and tell you that we’re all single.”

I must be making a face, because the one clinging on to him laughs loudly. “Hi, Estelle. I’m Marie.” Then all four women introduce themselves to me.

“So they are single,” a brunette says. She looks a little drunk, with her way too-wide smile and her grubby hands on Oliver’s lap. Still, I smile, though it feels tight on my face.

“Sure. Some come with more baggage than others do. Take your pick.” I shoot Jenson a pointed look, and he shakes his head at me in disbelief. I guess it was a bitchy thing to say. I groan. “I’m just kidding. I’ll see you guys later.” I give them a small wave and one last smile before heading to the same bar I was at earlier. I feel somebody take a seat beside me, but don’t acknowledge him. I keep sipping on my drink and tapping the counter with my fingernails as I debate whether I should stay a little longer, or leave and call Mia so we can go somewhere.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing here alone?” he asks, and my eyes practically jump out of their sockets, because he has the sexiest British accent I’ve ever heard. Not that I’ve heard many, movies aside. I pivot in the seat and find a good looking, older man. He looks like a businessman, which has more to do with the suit he’s wearing than anything else.

“Not alone. I just needed a little space from the people I’m supposed to be here with.”

His lips twitch. “That bad?”

My eyes trail over his features, and notice thin lips, dark eyes, short, light curls on his head, and the lack of hair on his face. I wonder if it feels as smooth as it looks. His smile broadens, as mine does.

“I’m here with my brother and his friends. Celebrating some big work thing. It’s pretty bad.”

“In that case, would you like another?” he asks, looking at my now almost-empty glass of vodka tonic.

“Sure,” I say, smiling. “Are you here alone?”

“With a couple of blokes from work.” He points over to a table close to where Vic and the guys are sitting.

“You’re sitting in VIP and came all the way out here to refill your drink?”

He leans forward so that his mouth is beside my face. “I saw you and thought I should come introduce myself before someone else got a chance to.”

I smile and focus my attention on the drink the bartender places in front of me.

“Miles,” he says, offering his hand.

“Estelle.”

“Beautiful name. What do you do for fun, Estelle? Other than avoid boring celebrations with your brother.”

My eyes find his, and I flash him a smile. “I dance.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Show me.”

I stand, gulping down the drink in a less-than-ladylike manner, and grab his hand, pulling him to the dance floor with me. I glance over my shoulder to where the guys are, and see they’re still talking, save for Victor, who’s now dancing with one of the girls. The only one who takes notice of me is Oliver, and the look he’s giving me is enough to set my insides on fire. Miles grabs my hips, and we begin to sway to the music. Finally, I close my eyes and ignore Oliver’s gaze, along with everything else. I let the music travel through me, and I let my body take over to the point of forgetting where I am and who I’m with.

“You’re really good at this,” Miles says into my ear. “What else are you good at?”

I can’t keep the smile off my face, but I keep dancing and ignore his question. We stay on the dance floor and, as the songs get more provocative, so do my moves and Miles’ hands on my body. Where they were once on my waist, they’ve gravitated down to my ass. I turn around in his hold and pull his hands higher so they’re at my waist, and as I do, I spot a tall figure walking toward us. Normally it wouldn’t be weird, since we’re in the middle of a crowded club, but I’d know that strut anywhere. My heart picks up a little as my gaze finds Oliver’s. I look past him and notice Vic and Bobby are both wrapped up in the ladies beside them. If they notice Oliver is gone, they don’t show it. He doesn’t stop until he reaches me.

“I need to speak to you,” he says, leaning his face between my dance partner and me.

“We’re dancing,” Miles says, frowning, but he stops moving so the three of us are standing.

“And now you’re not,” Oliver says in a voice that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Miles takes it as a challenge and cocks his eyebrow at me, saying
can you believe this guy?
And honestly, no, I cannot believe this guy.

“Oliver, what do you want?” I ask. He doesn’t even look at me. He continues to glare at Miles.

“I’d like to leave my days of fighting back in middle school, so if you could just do me a favor and take your hands off of her ass and step away, we’ll be okay,” Oliver says.

Anger simmers in the pit of my stomach as I watch the exchange. The only thing I can think about is “Grace’s night.” The words repeat themselves inside my head. “Grace’s night” followed by Bobby’s amused chuckle, and suddenly I’m livid, just like that.

I take a step back and shoot him a murderous glare. “What is your problem?”

“I take it you know each other,” Miles says, shaking his head. He looks at me one last time. “When you’re finished playing whatever game it is he wants you to play, you’re welcome to join us at our table.” Then he turns around and disappears into the crowd, leaving me gaping at the empty spot where he was standing.

“Elle,” Oliver says, but I put my hand up to stop him and turn around, walking to the back of the club.

The line for the women’s bathroom is insane, as usual, so I look both ways and figure out my next plan. When I see a figure coming up behind me, I bolt to the nearest exit, shivering at the wall of cold air that hits me.

“Estelle!” he shouts as the door closes behind him, the noise of the club fading along with it.

“What do you want?” I say. What could he possibly want? I’m holding my arms together as the residual alcohol travels through my system, warming me against the outside air. Suddenly I am so upset with everything—with everyone. This was supposed to be a night out. Maybe even a night where I could show Vic that I can get a guy by myself, without Mom’s help, without school, without art, just me. And it’s stupid. It’s stupid because I’m at a dance club trying to prove things I didn’t realize I needed to. What was I going to do, anyway? Have a one night stand with some random guy? Find a real chance of starting over at a place where conversation is completely optional, and dry sex is the norm? A laugh escapes my lips at my stupid, idiotic thoughts. And another one follows when I remember who’s behind me—the only guy I want, but shouldn’t. The one I don’t
want
to want. The one I’m
terrified
to want.

When Oliver doesn’t respond, I turn around and face him. He has his eyes closed as he runs a hand through his hair, brushing it back as if he’s doing outtakes for a Pantene commercial. He looks exhausted, like a man who had an eighty-hour workweek and still managed to come out tonight to help his best friend celebrate a win. But when he opens his eyes and looks at me, it’s as if he gets a second wind.

“I know I’m fucked up, Elle. Or at least I have been in the past,” he says with a short laugh. He strides over and I stay still. I don’t want to interrupt anything he’s going to tell me in that voice, while he’s looking at me with those eyes. “You have no reason to open yourself up to me. I know I can’t have you, Elle. I know I shouldn’t have you. The job offers I’m getting are in San Fran, which means I’ll probably leave soon . . . again. Your brother would never approve of this . . . of us . . . of me being with you,” he says, sighing. He runs his hands through his hair again as he stands in front of me. He’s so close that the only thing between us is my crossed arms. He drops his forehead to the top of my head and lets out a long breath that fans over my face. “So why do I want you so bad?”

“How many times are we going to go through this?” I whisper.
How many times am I going to let you break my heart?

“Just give me one date,” he says just as low, moving his face so that our noses brush.

“Just one date, and then what? You leave the next day?” I say, stepping away.

“Give me time to figure that part out,” he says, his eyes pleading with mine. I shake my head.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because last time we did this, you left me!” I say a little louder than I intend. He flinches. “We had that night, and you freaking left me! I woke up the next day and you were gone. All of your shit was gone! You didn’t even leave a note, just a ‘Bean left to Berkeley today, he says he’ll catch you next time’ from Victor who thought we hadn’t even seen each other at the party. Do you know how bad that hurt?”

He looks away. “I thought we established that I’m fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, stop fucking us all up along with you!”

His eyes flash to mine. “You got engaged a year later!”

“Oh, was I supposed to wait for you? Did I miss the memo where you told me you would come back, and we could actually have a chance at something? I’m so sorry, King Oliver. I must have missed that one, along with the apology for leaving me and then making me miserable at my own—”

His lips smash into mine before I can finish the sentence, and I back him into the wall behind him. He moans when I press my body flush against his and dip my tongue into his mouth. My head clouds with his scent, his taste, and the hint of iron in our mouths that our nipping teeth have made. We kiss like we’re hungry . . . starving . . . for each other. Through the haze inside my head, I hear our names being called out, but I don’t process it until I hear the voice getting louder, closer, and our phones start to vibrate (his in his pocket, mine in the wristlet I have on).

“Elle?”

“Bean?”

Jenson’s voice cuts through us, and Oliver gasps against my mouth and pulls away, or pushes me away. It feels about the same. The vibrating of our phones grows frantic. I look down, taking it out, and see Vic’s name on the screen. My eyes flicker to Oliver, who says Jenson is calling him. We nod at each other and answer our phones at the same time.

“Yeah, she’s with me. We’re outside,” Oliver says into his phone.

“I’m outside,” I say to Vic.

“Oh. Is Jenson there with you? He went out for a smoke.”

“No. I haven’t seen him.”

“Are you coming back with us? I didn’t get to hang out with you inside.”

“You were a little occupied inside,” I say and open my mouth to agree, when he cuts me off.

“Okay, well we’ll see each other at home. Tell Bean the girls we were talking to are coming over,” Victor says, and my stomach turns.

“Sure. I’ll tell him,” I say, looking at Oliver, who’s watching me intently.

As soon as I hang up and put my phone back in my purse, Oliver reaches for me, but I put my hands up to stop him.

“Don’t bother. Victor says you have company tonight. He wants you to know the girls are coming over,” I say, sauntering out of the alley and to the front of club. I catch Jenson standing, gaping at us with his mouth hanging open and everything. I don’t even care that he saw us right now. Tomorrow I’m sure I’ll give it more thought, but right now, I feel like I need to get out of here.

“I’m taking a cab,” I say as I reach him and open the door to the first one I see. I glance over my shoulder and catch the torn look on Oliver’s face before I slide into the car and close the door—then I head to the only place I’ve been able to call home for the past two years. Thankfully, I still have a key.

Past

THE DOWNFALL OF ambition is sometimes letting life pass you by and only realizing it did so after the fact. Like the seasons, people change—their lives change—and suddenly you’re stuck between fall and winter, not knowing whether you should step forward or back. I didn’t go home on my breaks during my first two years of school, because my mom and Sophie came to see me at Berkeley. Then the guys came up for Spring Break one year, and the next we went to Vegas. Being back home felt weird at first, as if everything stayed the same except for me. That’s what I thought until I met up with a stressed-out Victor at Starbucks one morning.