Emily stomped over to Derek, liquid dribbled down her face.
"What the hell happened to you?" he asked, brows raised in concern.
"The asshole I was giving a lap dance tried to grab my tits. I told him that wasn't part of the deal and he threw his fucking drink in my face!" she snapped.
Anger washed over Derek's face and Emily felt a small surge of vindication as he proceeded to throw the guy out on his ass. When he returned, his expression was softer, kinder. "I'm sorry, Em," he said quietly, barely audible over the music.
She shrugged off his concern. "I'm used to guys acting like pricks," she said simply.
"Well, you shouldn't be," he said firmly. "You shouldn't have to put up with being treated like that." He passed her a towel to wipe off the beer still dribbling down her face.
She sighed. "Please don't start with the 'you deserve better' speech – I really can't deal with that today."
He opened his mouth to reply to the odd comment, but stopped, brow furrowing. "What happened to your face?" he demanded.
She blanched slightly, turned her head so he couldn't see the dark purple bruise on her chin. "Nothing," she lied.
"That's not nothing," he insisted. "It looks like you lost a fight with a brick..."
She gave a small snort of laughter. "You could say that..."
He didn't seem to find it funny, though. "What happened?" he asked again.
She shrugged again, moved towards the bar to get a drink, so he was forced to follow her if he wanted answers.
"Em, you can trust me," he said, "How am I supposed to keep you safe if you won't tell me what the threat is?"
"It's not your job to keep me safe!" she snapped. "When I'm here, you can watch me like a hawk all you like, but once I leave the premises, I'm none of your concern."
She was right, but that didn't mean he had to like the answer...
"Like hell it's not my concern," he maintained. "If I think you're in danger, I'll absolutely make it my business to find out who or what the threat is."
She huffed. "You know you sound like such a caveman right now, right?" she said. "Like I'm some weak little woman who can't protect herself and needs a big strong man to fight her battles for her..."
He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. You're right. You should fight your own battles. Which is why this weekend you'll meet me at the gym for your first self-defence class."
Pursing her lips, she stared at him as if trying to decide whether this was worth the fight. Eventually, she relented. "When and where?"
"Water?" Derek asked. Without waiting for a response, he pressed a bottle of water into her hand as he settled next to her on the gym mat.
"Thanks," she replied, though it looked like it pained her to say anything even remotely kind to him. As she chugged the water, she watched him staring at her, a small smirk on his face. "What?" she demanded, breathless when she stopped drinking, wiping a stray dribble of water with the back of her hand.
He chuckled softly. "Nothing," he insisted. "I was just thinking that that would have been impressive if it were vodka."
She gave a small snort of laughter. "I work in a strip club – you think I can't down vodka like a Russian diplomat?"
He laughed harder at that.
Emily had to admit – if only to herself – that she wasn't completely hating Derek's self-defence training... He really seemed to know what he was talking about and she could see it coming in useful on occasion. She wasn't going to tell him that, though, considering that his ego really didn't need any expanding.
"Speaking of working at strip clubs..." he said slowly, interrupting her musings.
She raised a brow. "I advise you to carefully consider your next words..." she warned.
For a moment, he seemed to debate whether his question was worth the risk of getting slapped, but eventually decided to take the risk. "Can I, umm... Can I ask how you came to be a stripper?"
She sighed heavily, but nodded once. "Normally, I might mind, but I'll make an exception for you..." For a few moments, she picked at her nails as she decided how best to explain it. "When I was seventeen, something happened. A thing. A thing my parents really weren't pleased about. They gave me an ultimatum that I wasn't willing to accept, so they chose to disown me and kick me out."
A strangled sound escaped Derek's lips at that, as if the very idea of someone disowning their child was unthinkable. He didn't comment, though, as if afraid of interrupting her train of thought.
Continuing on, she said, "I obviously needed a job, but being a college drop out with no experience, there weren't exactly a lot of doors open to me. I applied for a job tending bar for Dave, but he suggested to me that I'd make more money dancing, so..." She shrugged. "It not the best job in the world, but it's definitely not the worst either."
A few moments passed before Derek worked up the courage to ask, "What's this big mistake you made?"
"I, umm... I don't think I'm ready to tell you," she said quietly. "No offence, but...I think you've already figured out that I don't trust easily." A beat. "It's nothing illegal, in case you were wondering."
"Do you regret it?" he asked, "This mistake?"
She shook her head, a faint but sincere smile crossing her lips. "Not for a single second. Best mistake I've ever made."
Silence descended between them then. Not altogether uncomfortable, but unfamiliar all the same.
"You know," Derek said after a few moments in which he studied her, intrigued expression on his face. "I think I understand you..."
Frowning slightly, she asked, "What do you mean?"
"You have to be a few steps ahead of everyone," he explained. "You've been hurt so many times in the past that now you have to be wary, be prepared, just in case someone hurts you again." She opened her mouth to respond, but he wasn't finished. "You may not believe it, but I know what that's like. And I can promise you that I'm not that person. You don't know it yet, but I'll prove it to you. Whatever it takes."