Suspicions confirmed—Cass’s birthday party at this gentleman’s club is a giant orgy waiting to happen. The decorations are superior. Everything is dark with colorful strobe lighting. There’s confetti and glitter with giant balloons the size of my body. This party must’ve cost tens of thousands to decorate alone. I’m in shock—at the luxury…and the nakedness. But Finn looks unbothered like this is all business as usual.
I find it hard to believe one person has this many friends to invite to a birthday party. It’s quite apparent this event is more of a publicity stunt than anything. I’m assuming this room is filled with minor celebrities, big-name influencers, pro athletes, and trust-fund babies. But it’s not like I’d recognize anybody. I bet if Palmer were here, she’d be pointing out people left and right.
Although, nobody seems as infamous as Finn. From the moment he walked through the doors, he’s been getting attention like he’s walking the red carpet.
We entered together, my hand weaved firmly in his. He ushered me away from all the staring and leering and quickly led me to a VIP section, which is roped away from the mass mob of partygoers on the dance floor. Where clusters of people are packed at the bar, waiting half an hour for one beer, Finn, myself, a few of his friends, and Cass, the birthday girl, who only stayed at the table long enough to give Finn a quick hug, me a kiss on the cheek, and tell me she loved my costume. I didn’t even get to wish her a happy birthday she was moving so fast.
It’s clear as crystal that Finn has an entire other life that I’m not familiar with. Everyone knows him. Everyone knows his name. Everyone has been asking where the hell he’s been and where Nora is tonight. He ignores the question each time, just politely responds and introduces me, instead. But after the bullshit I pulled in the limo, the pretend girlfriend game is over. Finn has been introducing me as his date, but now there’s a wall between us for sure. I hurt him with my hesitance about moving.
I hurt myself with my hesitance. Fuck.
But can you blame me? I look around and see everything I’m not. I wanted to be outgoing and fun for Finn, but I am so damn uncomfortable right now. All I want to do is leave, go home, take off this ridiculous costume, and wipe off all this makeup. I want to get in sweatpants and cuddle with Finn on the couch. But the way Finn’s smiling and enjoying himself—does he want that? I just told him to be himself and not the version of himself he thinks he has to be for me, and now here I am, wondering if we’re compatible after all.
When I really think about it, Finn and I have nothing in common. He’s incredibly fit and works out daily. I consider making my bed, exercise. Finn can cook everything. I make cereal and dip. Finn dresses like a supermodel and the only thing I’ll ever buy designer is sweatpants. How long can you keep up a fa?ade to be with someone before you can’t take it anymore? For Mason, it was four years…
I don’t think I’ll last half that long with Finn.
I don’t like it here. This club. The music is too loud. There are too many women openly flirting with the man who is clearly here with me. The strobe lights are giving me a headache and all these drinks are too fucking strong.
I am just not cool enough for Vegas.
I rise from my seat and lean down to whisper in Finn’s ear, “Hey, I’m going to run to the bathroom.”
“Okay,” he says, rising as well. “Let’s go. I’ll show you where it is.”
“No,” I insist. “Stay, I can find it.”
He grabs my wrist and holds me in place. “Avery,” Finn says warningly. “Not by yourself—”
“Finn,” I warn right back. “Don’t treat me like a child. I can go to the bathroom by myself.” Plus, I don’t need to pee. I need some space. I need to think. I need to be away from you and all this chaos for a moment.
His eyes are locked on mine and I know he’s having a mental debate between respecting me and protecting me. I run my fingers tenderly across his cheek to help ease his clenched jaw. “I’ll be right back, baby.”
It’s the baby part that makes him relax. He releases my wrist and kisses the back of my hand. “Please come right back.”
I assure him I will as I duck under the VIP rope, grateful for my flowy skirt that allows me to maneuver with ease. Heading to the bathroom first just for something to do, I retreat when I see the line to the ladies’ room wraps around the hallway. Geez. I settle for the packed bar instead, making sure I’m on the end, tucked away from Finn’s view.
And for a while, I’m okay. I nod along to the club beats and try to ignore my view of the VIP section where I can see woman after woman making their move on Finn. He smiles but turns them all away. I even see him firmly shake his head and hold up his palm when one of the strippers, dressed in confetti-themed lingerie, offers him a dance. It’s like watching vultures flock and even though he is a textbook gentleman, I still don’t like the jealousy that’s bubbling up in my chest. I compare myself to every single one of the women who are smaller and fitter than me, throwing themselves shamelessly at his feet.
This is what life as Finn’s girlfriend would be like. Watching from the shadows as everyone tries to take what’s mine.
“Water for the mermaid?”
The low voice next to me startles me from my thoughts. I whip my head to the right as the tingle of shock in my chest subsides. A blond man with a purposefully shaggy haircut that matches his scruff, slides a blue cocktail toward me. His eyes are green, like mine—but so much darker. Where mine are light, his are a deep emerald. Hm, pretty. He chuckles as he studies my perplexed expression.
Tapping his temple, he says, “I planned that better in my head.”
“What?”
He points to the drink. “I thought it’d be a cute way to break the ice. The drink—it’s called Mermaid Water. You’re dressed as a mermaid.” He laughs again as he covers his eyes. “I did not play that off well.”
I can’t help but return his smile. He looks as uncomfortable here as I am, so I immediately feel a friendly bond. “Hey now, it wasn’t bad after a little context.”
“Don’t lie.”
The song switches and it’s low enough that I can actually carry a conversation. “I’m just impressed you were able to get a drink.”
“Me too,” he says, widening his eyes at the bartender, who has his back turned. “Cass’s birthday is always ridiculous, but tonight I have to admit…it’s a shit show. Of course, that has nothing to do with the party.”
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“I just got into a big fight with my girlfriend,” he mutters. “I wish I were enough of an asshole to leave her here, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to her.”
He’s saying all the magic words for me to continue this conversation. He has a girlfriend. He’s not an asshole.
I point to the cocktail. “Can I pay you for this if I drink it? I don’t think my date will like it if I let another man buy me a drink.”
He smirks. “Yeah, Finn’s got a temper on him sometimes. But don’t worry, I didn’t technically buy this for you.” He holds up his arm and shows me a wristband. “It’s an open bar for those who paid the cover.”