(Sara)
Sara paid the Cab driver and headed towards the door of the club, her back straight and her head held high. If she was going to BS her way inside she needed to act not like she wanted to be there, but like they should be glad she had chosen to show up at all, and not one of the many other clubs down the street.
She got a nod from the bouncer on duty, his eyes on her black skirt and thigh high boots, not the plastic in her hand. Sara thought maybe she could have been holding her grade school library card and he would have nodded her in.
She shook what little junk she had in her trunk as she walked in, the bouncer's eyes and her black dress clinging to her curves with every movement. She smirked as she made her way to the bar, her confidence on high as man after man ogled her in passing.
She was almost there when she barreled into a guy with his shirt half way unbuttoned.
"Sorry, I didn't see you there," he said and hurried passed her.
So apparently she wasn't Button's type? She hopped up onto the bar stool and the bartender placed a drink in front of her.
"I didn't order this."
He nodded to the guy across the bar from her, some weaselly little guy with a bad perm.
She pushed the drink back at him.
"No thanks," I have plastic."
She shoved her card forward and ordered a Jack and coke. He hurried off to fill her order, and she let her eyes pass over her line of sight. Finding no one of interest, her drink now in front of her, she sat forward and drained the ice cold beverage.
She hailed the bartender and ordered another, this time with a couple of shots of tequila to round it all off.
She tapped her fingers to the music and looked around again. She met the eyes of Mr. Weasel and made a face. Maybe not the most mature thing to do, but it might keep him at bay for a little while.
The drinks were set in front of her and she tipped back one of the shot glasses, letting the fiery liquid warm her belly. She set the empty aside and tipped back it's twin. And then she took up the Jack and coke. A few sips later she set the drink aside and turned her body, her eyes canvassing the bar behind her.
She pulled her eyes back with a jerk, the closely cropped head making her do an abrupt double take.
It was Michael... And he wasn't alone.
(Michael)
Michael felt her breath on his neck again. Angela would lean in when she spoke to him, her perfume filling his senses; her words eliciting sensations against his skin.
He told himself he shouldn't fight it, what was he holding back for? But he knew the answer to that question, it was a certain girl that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to banish from his thoughts. He had unsuccessfully tried to push Sara from his thoughts all night. But somehow he just couldn't. She had sounded so sad when he talked to her earlier.
He was ripped from his thoughts by Angela. She was touching him again. Her hand on his arm, her thigh against his. As her fingers slid down his arm to flip his hand over, she began to explain the fine art of palm reading, her fingers tracing the lines on his palm.
He couldn't help but smile. He didn't go in for any of that mystic crap, but he did find it amusing how some, and apparently Angela was one of them, could take it so seriously. But then again it could just be one of those things girls did because they thought it was hot; a way to touch a guy that would make him...
And it was making him hot. He had to admit it. The gentle strokes of her fingers; the wanting look in her fiery eyes... Angela was just as hot as Lincoln had promised, maybe even more so, but even as buzzed as he was, Michael knew how this night would end.
He would thank his date for a nice evening, and go home to a cold shower...Because as hot as Angela was, she wasn't what he truly wanted. He smiled again and shook his head to her question about having had many loves in his life...Nope, there hadn't been many.
(Sara)
Sara watched as the girl...woman? Ran her hand down Michael's arm and flipped his hand over. She would look at his palm as she stroked it and then smile seductively up at him as she spoke.
Sara watched Michael's reaction to this, his smile, the ease with which he reacted to the girl's ministrations, and felt her jealousy soar.
Who was this person? Why was her 'gay' best friend out with some sleazy bar woman?
She continued to watch as Michael laughed, and the girl leaned in close to whisper something in his ear.
Sara had seen enough. She slapped the wood in front of her to get the attention of the bartender.
"I need my card back...now!"
"Whoa take it easy little lady, I'll go get it."
Sara took a deep breath and told herself to just calm down, but then the alcohol in her system took over. She felt herself getting more and more angry at him.
So this was why he couldn't come over tonight? Because he had a hot date? She grabbed the card up and shoved it in her bag and then she was moving.
She stumbled off the barstool and into the weaselly guy who had apparently decided she was drunk enough to move in on.
Without a word she shoved him aside and headed towards Michael's table. She wasn't about to leave without getting some answers.
(Michael)
Michael had just removed Angela's hand from his thigh when a commotion across the room drew his attention.
Lincoln looked up and sighed. "Another drunk?"
He shook his head in disgust and stood up temporarily blocking Michael's view of the room.
"I'll be right back."
Lincoln's date stood also. "I'm going to the little girl's room... Ang?"
Angela shook her head. "No, you go on, I'm good."
Sammie smiled and shook her head. "K, I'll be right back."
"Finally alone."
Michael jumped a little as Angela's warm breath hit his neck. He smiled and moved back a little. "Um listen, I..."
"Michael?"
He looked up and there she was, hurt and anger coming off of her in waves.
"Sara...What are you doing here?"
Sara laughed bitterly at this. "What am I doing here? No, the question is, what are you doing here, and with this..."
"Hey!" Angela sat forward, her back up a little at the implications being spewed at her with such venom.
"Shut up!" Sara fairly screamed, causing the girl to jump and clamp her mouth shut against what ever she had planned on saying next.
"Sara, this isn't what you think. I can explain everything."
He stood up and moved towards her, but everything about her, the way she was stiff and so wired told him not to try to touch her just then. He stopped in front of her, his eyes locked on her face.
"Please, let's just go, okay?"
Sara laughed, that bitter sound once again falling from her lips.
"Why, are you afraid your little tramp will hear what I have to say about her date?"
He held her gaze.
"Angela has nothing to do with this. Please, Sara? Just let me take you home, okay?" He pleaded.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Well you know what? Don't bother."
She turned and ran off, her hair flying out behind her.
"I'm sorry... I have to go."
He took off after Sara leaving Angela sitting there with her mouth hanging open.
(Sara)
Sara just needed to get away. Confronting Michael had seemed like a good idea in her alcohol soaked state of mind, but the longer she stood there with him looking at her so intensely practically begging her to let him take her someplace so they could talk, the more the angry tears she was barely able to hold in check had threatened.
She pushed her way through the doors and out into the rain not caring that it was pouring, instantly soaking her in her thin dress. She looked around praying for a miracle, that a cab would pull up like they so often did in the movies, but other then a few passing cars, the streets were empty.
She shivered and hugged herself, her only option to call a cab and wait for it. She was heading out of the rain, her sights set on an overhang in front of a closed bakery when his hand clamped over her arm.
She turned to him, her tears and the rain mixed together on her wet cheeks leaving streaks of mascara.
"Leave me alone, Michael!"
She ripped her arm free and continued walking ignoring his words as he followed. After a few seconds of this he roughly turned her around his hands tightly gripping her shoulders.
"Just stop and listen, okay?"
She reached pushing her wet hair from her face and met his eyes. She hesitated and then nodded. Something about the feirce desperation in his tone causing her to comply.
"Let's go find my car and I'll take you someplace we can talk."
"I don't want to go home," she said softly, her lips trembling from the cold that had penetrated every part of her being.
"Okay, we won't go home."
She let him drape his jacket over her shoulders, the smell of him coming off of it causing her breath to catch painfully in her throat. How could she still want him after this?
She let him lead her to his car, a vehicle she had never seen before and climbed into the passenger's side. He reached and buckled her in, careful not to let his fingers so much as touch her. She noticed this and laughed sadly. She was so tired and cold.
He looked at her but didn't say anything. And then he shut the door and ran around to his side of the car. He jumped in and started the engine, his hand moving to crank the heat on.
"It'll take a few minutes to get warm in here."
She looked out the window ignoring his words. And then she turned to him, a shiver hard to conceal from her voice.
"So where are we going?"
(Michael)
"So where are we going?"
Her words were broken a little, a tremble present that he couldn't deny. When he told her they wouldn't go back to her house he hadn't really thought the whole thing through. His mind whirring quickly now, he leaned back and turned to face her.
"I know a place not far from here."
She turned away as if satisfied by his answer and looked out the rain streaked window, anywhere to avoid looking at him he realized.
He watched the side of her face for a few beats and then putting the car in gear he pulled away from the curb. He spent the short ride to his apartment finally having the chance to get his mind around what must have happened tonight.
When she called him earlier she had been upset, he knew this. And then when he refused to come over? Well that much was obvious, wasn't it?
She had fought the urge to use by doing the next best thing. She had sought out a quick alcohol fix at the club. And the smell coming off of her in the closed in car only confirmed his suspicions; she was drunk, hurt and pissed.
When they reached his place he pulled into the dark driveway and shut off the engine, the interior lights staying on for a moment before plunging them into darkness.
"Come on, that's get you into some dry clothes."
She didn't look at him, but just swung the car door open and stepped out into the rain that was still drizzling down from the overcast skies.
He joined her. He wanted to take her arm to hurry her along, but still afraid to touch her, he kept his distance.
He fitted the key into the lock and held open the door for her. And then stepping in behind her he flipped on another light. He always kept one burning as a precautionary measure, usually the kitchen light, but it only cast dim shadows of light into the living room.
He looked at her in the soft yellow light and felt his heart ache. She looked so vulnerable right now, her shoulders hunched under his thin jacket as she fought the shivering that was once again wracking her small frame; her eyes ringed with what remained of her eye make-up.
"I'll get you something dry to put on...and some towels."
He left her standing there and moved to his bedroom busying himself with getting her something to wear. He rifled through his drawer moving passed the t-shirts with FBI emblazoned on the front to find a simple white t-shirt. He then grabbed a pair of gray sweats with a drawstring closure figuring she could make them fit.
His next stop was the linen closet where he kept his towels. He grabbed two and headed into the living room.
She was sitting in a chair unzipping her boots when he entered the room. He stopped in his tracks and watched her ease one long leg after the other out of their tight black enclosures.
He took a deep breath and she looked up as he continued into the room.
"Here, you should get out of that dress, before you catch cold or something."
She nodded, and placing her boots aside she stood up and pulled the wet dress up over her head. He took in her goose pimpled flesh and the beauty of her, his whole body groaning within. And then he blinked and averted his eyes before turning away.
"What, you're still gay, right?"
He couldn't help but hear the bitter edge her words held.
"Um, yeah, I'm still...Sara."
He stood with his back to her as she dressed, and began yet another lie to cover his ass.
"I got tricked into that. My brother Lincoln set that up. I was supposed to hang out with him at the club and when I got there...He doesn't know I'm gay, Sara...I told you before...I'm not out."
He let his words hang in the air for a moment hoping she would say something.
"You can turn around...no girl skin to repulse you," she said sarcastically.
Obviously his explanation was not helping things along as much as he had hoped. He turned around, his eyes falling on her. The white t-shirt was too big, as were the sweats, but he could see the indentations of her nipples through the thin white material. He wanted to kick himself, he should have realized she would want to remove her bra as well.
"Um, I um, I'll just change and then I'll make us some coffee."
He was about to leave the room when she spoke up.
"Whose place is this Michael?"
He froze at her words and then turned back to her, yet another lie falling from his lips.
"It's Lincoln's. Well one of his places. He has two. He um, he keeps this place as um... it's close to work."
He turned back and headed for the bedroom. He wasn't aware she had followed him until she spoke behind him making him jump.
"Where are your glasses, Michael... and those clothes? They're not you, you know? Or are they?"
He stood still for a moment letting her words and the implications lie heavy in the air. And then he opened his mouth to explain.
