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Confrontation

Brooke POV

The line outside Underworld is so long it seems to reach the corner of the block. Our Uber drops us off at the club, and as we approach, I’m greeted with a smile from Darius, the security guard.

“Brooke, it’s been a while.” He lets us through, and I can feel the stares on us like daggers. “Olivia,” he nods, and she responds with an air kiss.

“Hi, Darius, how are you?”

“Better now. Does the boss know you’re here?”

“I let him know.”

“Have fun, ladies,” he says, turning his attention back to a group of men who apparently don’t have tickets.

Once we pass through the double doors, Liv grabs my hand, fearing she’ll lose me in the crowd of bodies around us, and I can already feel the music’s bass reverberating through my body. The bar on the ground floor is packed, like a hive, with people constantly squeezing in. The expansive dance floor, which takes up most of the space, is already crowded, and the blue and purple lights create an interesting and enticing atmosphere.

I’m moving to the rhythm of the music as we slowly make our way to the stairs leading to the mezzanine where the VIP area is located.

“Names?” The security guard asks. I don’t recognize him, so he must be new here.

“Olivia and Brooke,” my friend says with a smile. He checks his phone and looks back at us.

“Sorry, you’re not on the list.”

Liv looks at me, her perfectly arched eyebrow forming a question.

“I thought Kyle said everything was fine.”

“He did, calm down, Liv.” I turn to the security guard. “Could you please check again? Brooke Roberts and Olivia Jones.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but if your name isn’t on the list, you can’t come in.”

“Call Kyle,” my friend asks, and I shake my head.

“Ask Darius on the radio if we can go up?” I request, and he looks at me closely, realizing that I know one of his colleagues by name. Given that none of them are flaunting badges, it must mean I know him. With a reluctant expression, the security guard does as I asked.

“Did you turn them away? Are you crazy? Brooke has lifetime entry, she’s friends with the bosses.” As Darius’s words are shouted over the radio, I see the guard’s face go pale.

“Sorry, you can go up,” he says, letting us through.

“What’s your name?” Liv asks, eyeing him up and down.

“Gary Fanning.”

“Hm, I’ll forgive your mistake because you’re cute, but just this once,” she says, caressing his bicep and winking.

“You’re incorrigible,” I complain, nudging her to start climbing the stairs.

The air seems fresher up here, away from the mass of bodies on the dance floor. Besides being an exclusive area with several sofas, it also has its own bar, which means we won’t have to wait at all for our drinks.

“Brooke, you came,” a deep voice calls, which I recognize immediately. I turn to see the man, a little over six feet tall, wearing dark jeans and a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt. He smiles before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a hug, his beard scratching my face as he kisses my cheek. When he pulls away, he turns to my friend and greets her, “Liv, good to see you.”

“Hi, Raffi. Did you know we got turned away?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips, making Raffi look back at me.

“It was a misunderstanding, that’s all. Apparently, Ky didn’t put my name on the list,” I explain. Rafael Martinez, or Raffi, is one of Kyle’s best friends and, as a result, has become part of my life. About nine years ago, when Kyle came home from a long deployment, he brought his new friends, Seth and Raffi. After spending a month living next door, they were almost as important to me as Kyle. Today, I can’t imagine my life without them.

“Oh, the newbie.”

“Is he single, Raffi?” Liv asks.

“As far as I know.” He shrugs. “I don’t waste my time knowing the marital status of my employees, Liv. That’s work for Thorne.”

“Then you’re not helping me,” she complains, making me smile.

“Speaking of which,” Raffi looks around before turning back to me. “Where’s your shadow?” His glacier-blue eyes scan my face attentively, and I try to hide what’s happened.

“They broke up,” Liv explains, pulling me by the hand to one of the sofas.

“It was about time; he was an idiot.”

“You say that about all my boyfriends, Raffi.” I roll my eyes, settling next to Olivia, and he sits on my other side.

“And I’ve never been wrong yet, babygirl.” He winks at me before running his hand through his long hair, pushing it back and to the other side of his face.

The music changes, and cheers follow the first chords. Liv taps my thigh, places her drink on the table, and stands up.

“It’s your song, come on.”

So, I finally identify the song, it’s “abcdefu” by GAYLE, but the beat is different, angrier. As she expresses her hatred for her ex, I feel validated until the chorus comes, and I’m shouting along with the crowd down below.

Another song starts, but we keep dancing. I let the beats guide my movements, letting the crap that happened slide away from my body, freeing myself from the terrible day I had. My muscles seem to relax as I enjoy myself with my best friend.

My phone vibrates in the pocket of my dress, and when I see the name on the screen, I want to throw the phone into the middle of the dance floor. But I’m a teacher working with a minimum wage, and I can’t afford that luxury, so I return to the table where Raffi is drinking his beer and leave it there.

“Don’t answer,” I warn.

“Had no intention of doing that,” he replies. “Are you okay?”

His question is sincere, and that’s why I stop to think.

“I’m pissed about what happened; right now, all I feel is anger, but it’ll pass, and I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, big guy!”

“I always worry, babygirl.” The phone vibrates again on the table, and Raffi looks up at me. “If you need someone to talk to him and make him understand it’s over, let me know.”

I instantly remember the time Rafael Martinez “talked” to a boy from my class who was spreading rumors about me during high school. I never knew exactly what happened, but the kid’s black eye on Monday explained enough.

“I think it’s just because it happened today; he probably thinks there’s still a chance,” I reply, shrugging.

“Olivia is calling you,” Raffi changes the subject, and I see my friend waving her arms, signaling me to come back to her side. I smile and take two steps before turning back.

“Can you get two strawberry daiquiris, please?” I ask, handing him my card.

“I’ll get them,” he responds, ignoring my extended hand. I’m not complaining.

“Thanks, Raffi,” I say, giving him a goodbye wave before returning to where Liv is dancing carefree.

A few songs later, I see a waiter approaching the table with the red drinks and pull Liv, who whines until she notices the reason for the change.

“A toast to true friends,” I announce, raising my glass. Olivia raises hers, and Raffi lifts his beer.

“A toast to your newfound freedom!” Liv adds, taking a sip before sitting down and starting to fan herself with one hand. Raffi gets up and shakes the empty beer bottle.

“I’ll get more. Do you want anything?” he offers. My friend and I exchange glances and shake our heads in agreement.

“Please, Raffi!”

The sweat drips down my neck, and I feel the base of my back damp with the thrill of dancing, reminding me of how much I love it. It’s just not my favorite pastime because surfing has that spot in my life.

“There you are.” The smile on my face freezes.

Shit. Shit. I didn’t alert Darius; of course, he thought Patrick had come to meet us and let him through.

“Lost your phone?” Patrick asks as I turn to face him.

“No, it’s right there.” I point to the center of the table.

“Why didn’t you answer?”

“Look at the nerve of this guy,” Liv accuses from her spot on the couch, and Patrick shoots her a glare. “She didn’t answer because no one important was calling.”

“Brooke, love.” Olivia’s laughter fills the air. I wanted to join in, but the mere sight of Patrick churned my stomach and took away all the lightness I had gained.

“We have nothing to talk about, Patrick,” I say.

“Of course, we do. You didn’t let me explain.”

“Explain what? How you ended up naked on another woman on my couch? You don’t need to be a genius to understand that.”

“That’s not what you think.”

“Here we go, now he’s going to try to justify,” Liv says in a mocking tone.

“Come on, we need to talk alone.” Patrick’s hand grips my arm as he tries to pull me away from the table.

“Let go,” I say, trying to free myself from him.

“We can’t fix this if we don’t talk.”

“Let go of my arm, Patrick, you’re hurting me,” I complain.

“Get your hands off her,” a voice behind me commands. The dominant tone, like a death whisper, sends a delicious shiver down my spine to my belly.

“This has nothing to do with you. It’s between me and Brooke,” Patrick retorts, tightening his grip on my arm, making me wince.

Seth steps in front of me and faces Patrick. The smile on his face promises violence. Seth is at least 15 centimeters taller than my hated ex-boyfriend, who is 1.70m, making Patrick look up to face my friend. Another thing Seth has that Patrick can only dream of is his athletic build; even though he’s lean, Seth’s body is made of muscles, all cultivated through years of training in the special unit of the Marine Corps.

“You’re not getting it. You have two options: either you take your filthy hands off her and leave here intact, or you leave with one or more broken body parts.” Seth steps closer to Patrick, and I can only hear what he whispers over the loud music because he’s so close. “I, honestly, hope you choose the second option.”

Patrick quickly releases me as if he had been shocked, realizing that Seth isn’t joking, but he doesn’t leave.

“It was a mistake. Forgive me, Brooke, I’ll never do this again. She meant nothing to me,” he pleads in a supplicating tone.

“Clearly, neither do I,” I reply, feeling my eyes burn as the truth of my words hurts.

Patrick’s remorseful expression is quickly replaced by anger. Who did he think he was to be upset?

“You can’t do this. You can’t throw away what we have.”

“You’re the one who threw it away, you idiot,” Liv interrupts him.

“Brooke—” Patrick ignores my friend.

“We have an apartment together, for God’s sake. Where are you going to live?”

It’s not like I hadn’t thought about it since I left him in his underwear at the entrance of our apartment, but I’d go back to my parents’ house in Palo Alto if I had to, before going back to him.

“She’s going to live with me, asshole,” Liv declares.

“In that shoebox you call an apartment?” Patrick mocks, and it infuriates me that I can’t counter his remark because it’s impractical to live with Liv. Her studio is great for one person, but my things and I would unfortunately not fit there.

“It’s none of your business, and more importantly, we”—I point from myself to him—“don’t have an apartment. You insisted on putting only your name on the lease, remember?”

“But it’s ours,” Patrick insists.

“It stopped being my home the moment you decided to fuck another girl on the couch I picked!”

“I can’t afford it on my own,” he argues, irritated, as if I’m being unreasonable and our current situation is my fault.

Liv starts laughing, I look away from Patrick and see my friend clutching her stomach, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“Seems like a problem entirely yours. Call the… what’s her name? Doesn’t matter,” I dismiss the thought with a wave of my hand. “Call her to move in with you. I’ll be picking up my stuff tomorrow.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “And where are you going to take it?” His arrogant tone makes me want to punch him.

I wish I had an answer, just to wipe that smug smile off his face. How could I have ever loved him?

Looking at him now, I can’t remember.

“I know who filled your head with these ideas,” he says, glancing at Liv, who had stood up. “Stop being stubborn, I know I made a mistake, I’ve apologized, I’ve promised it will never happen again. Come on,” he makes a move to grab my arm again, but Seth steps forward and he hesitates. “Let’s go home. We can sort this out.”

“You’re not understanding; it’s already sorted. It’s over, Patrick.”

My ex-boyfriend takes a step towards me, and I hear Raffi huffing behind me.

“She made it clear she’s not interested; it’s time for you to get lost.”

“This has nothing to do with you, damn it! Let me talk to my girlfriend.”

“Well, no one’s stopping you from talking to your girlfriend,” Seth says, irony coloring his voice as he looks around. “But where is she?”

Everything happens at once. Liv laughs, then screams as Patrick lunges towards Seth, whose grin widens. Seth grabs and twists the arm Patrick used to try to hit him, and in the blink of an eye, Patrick is whimpering in pain while Seth holds his arm twisted behind his back.

The commotion finally draws the attention of the bouncers, who quickly approach. Seth’s face is almost sad when he has to let go of Patrick, but he still pushes Patrick’s arm into a completely wrong angle, causing my ex to scream.

“Brooke, I know you’re upset and you have every right to be. When you calm down, we can talk. We can work this out,” he yells as he’s being escorted away by the security.

“That guy is really persistent,” Liv declares.

“I need a drink,” I announce, feeling my arms begin to tremble now that the adrenaline is leaving my system.

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