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more I make anyway. Eric doesn’t know about my side job, and I’d rather him not know. I don’t need to hear his condescending tone.
       I pick up the thin, tight, white shirt he hands me and slip it over my white lace bra. He throws some, tight as shit, jeans my way and I slip them on. “Because, I’m not interested. Why is that so damn hard to believe?”
       Eric turns, and sits on my vanity seat, fixing his already perfect hair in my mirror. “It’s not, it’s just stupid. This guy is acting like a love-struck puppy.” He turns to me, blue eyes wide. “He doesn’t do that.”
       I shrug, and pull the straightener over my hair. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not into dating, fucking or whatever it is he has in mind.”
       Eric sighs, and leans against my desk. “You’re hopeless. Now, hurry up, I want to get there so we can dance before everyone gets too drunk.”
       We take Eric’s Bug to the pool hall. It’s lime green. He gets some blank stares but he doesn’t care. He says they can kiss his designer jean cladded ass. I smile.
       The doors swing open and a gush of beer, weed, sex and God only knows what, slams into my nostrils. Gag . Eric waves his hand in front of his face and scrunches his nose. “This place needs a cleaning day.”
       I nod. It needs more than that. Eric leads us to the bar, helping me up on a stool. The music is going and there are a lot of people here for eight o’clock. College kids will do anything to get out of studying. “What can I get ya,” the bartender, a younger guys, asks.
       “Anything fruity,” I say.
       “Pansy,” Eric says. “Rum and Coke,” he throws a twenty on the table. “Start a tab.”
       I raise an eyebrow and turn toward Eric. “Wow, someone is trying to get shitfaced tonight. Am I going to have to drive that Bug home?”
       Eric raises his broad shoulders and takes the drink from the bartender. “Maybe,” he takes a gulp, “I feel like letting loose. Maybe…”
       I snatch my Mike’s Hard Lemonade from the bartender and taking a long swig. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
       Eric is staring behind me, eyes wide. I don’t dare turn around, because I know good and damn well who is standing behind me. I feel a feather soft touch on the back of my neck, pushing my hair to my other shoulder. “You weren’t at your house,” he whispers. “Someone broke their promise.”
       My eyes are still locked with Eric’s. I clear my throat, and push the heat from his breath away from me. “I’m a bad liar,” I say, taking another long sip of my drink.
       Taylor laughs, deep and turns me around toward him. He is way closer than I thought he would be, hands on either side of me. He’s breath smells like mint and he has that same manly, smell about him. The tightness of his black shirt, fits great to his broad shoulders. “I should have known, you’d be gone.” He glances over my shoulder at Eric and cocks an eyebrow. “You here with someone else?” he voice is soft, but there is an edge to it. “I don’t like to see you with someone else, Layla.”
       I lean back against the counter, blood thumping quickly through my veins. “Eric is my date,” I say loudly.
       Eric narrows his eyes. “I’m gay,” he says, softly. “This aggravating, blonde menace is my friend and co-worker, Layla.”
       Traitor! “You--,”
       “Well, in that case,” Taylor says. He reaches behind me, wraps his arm around my waste and pulls me from the stool to his arms. “Dance with me.” I’m tempted to just kiss him, get it over with, because the way he smells, and that soft sexy smile, it’s inevitable. But, I won’t, because I have to fight. I can’t let him get too close. It’s better for me and him.
       Before I can give him a smart ass remark, he pulls me into the middle of the dance floor, where everyone is swaying against one another. He turns me around, my back against his front. His arm