Unexpected Mate

The Club

Alex’s day went quickly once the clinic opened. Dr. Harmon returned a little over an hour later. Madame Fluffy was not yet in labor, and as she was young and healthy and Dr. Harmon wasn’t anticipating any problems, Mrs. Andersen didn’t need to call if she did go into labor.

Alex knew there was no chance that Mrs. Andersen would heed that part of the doctor’s advice.

Because they opened an hour later on Fridays, they also closed later, so it was 7:30 before Alex got out the door. The walk back to her apartment was quick, and Staci greeted her right away with an excited “Are we going out?”

“Let me shower first and think about it.”

“You said you were going to think about it today,” Staci accused.

“I was working,” Alex told her.

“You don’t have time to think while you work?” Staci pouted. Her lips were already dyed a shocking red that somehow managed to look good on her. Clearly she was going out whether Alex joined her or not.

“Fine,” Alex said. “Give me an hour to get ready.”

“Yay!” Staci cheered. “It’s been forever.”

Alex guessed it had been awhile. A month at least. Had she gone out at all since the dreams started? She couldn’t remember.

But maybe that’s just what she needed.

The sound of the club was pumping even from outside the doors, and Alex was glad she and Staci didn’t have to wait long to pay their cover charge and get through. It was early, but this club was popular enough that the time didn’t really matter. Once the doors opened, people were there.

They went up to the bar, Staci leaning over to show off her considerable assets to the bartender.

Not that Sean cared. He’d known them too long, and was too into his boyfriend, to give Staci and her assets any looks beyond that of casual friendship.

“What will it be?” he asked.

“Something fruity,” Alex said. She’d gone through a period in college where she tried her best to like beer so she could be “one of the guys.” She’d even suffered through watching football and basketball. But now, at twenty-four, she was going to drink what she liked.

“We’ve got some stuff for flavored Long Islands,” Sean suggested.

“Sounds great.”

“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” Staci said. “And we need some shots.”

“No we don’t,” Alex countered.

“Two tequila shots!” Staci said, overriding her. “You need to get in the party mood.”

“I’m here,” Alex said. The rhythm of the music was already doing its work, and after she drank some of her Long Island, she was sure she’d be out on the dance floor.

“This will get you here,” Staci said, nudging the tequila shot that Sean had just sent down closer to her roommate. “Come on. Just the one and I’ll stop bugging you.”

Alex narrowed her eyes at the blonde. Staci rarely stopped at one shot. Usually by the third one, Alex stopped minding. “One,” Alex warned.

She licked her arm, sprinkled salt on it, and grabbed the shot. “Cheers,” she said, tapping the glass on the bar before lifting it , licking the salt off her arm, and drinking the tequila in one harsh swallow.

It burned, and she quickly stuck the lime in her mouth before gratefully picking up the Long Island Sean had set before her. Chasing liquor with more liquor might seem idiotic, but Sean had made it nice and sweet, just the way she liked it. “Thanks,” she said, sliding him her credit card. “Might as well run me a tab.”

Staci did the same with her own card before grabbing Alex’s hand and dragging her out to the dance floor, careful not to spill her drink.

Alex followed, taking a few generous sips of her Long Island so it wouldn’t be as easy to spill once she started moving.

She’d always liked to dance. She wouldn’t say she was a particularly skilled dancer, but she was good enough to keep up with the rhythm of whatever was playing, and she’d learned early in her college career that she didn’t have to be that good if she showed up in a short black skirt and a tight top that exposed her midriff.

It had been her staple clubbing outfit ever since.

She danced and drank and smiled until a blond with a stunning smile approached her.

“Dance with me,” he said, putting his right hand on her left hip even as he said it.

Alex wasn’t usually one for such a forward approach, but it was a club and the tequila was doing its job.

What was that country song about tequila making your clothes fall off? It seemed appropriate.

She shamelessly passed her near-empty glass to Staci and put her hands on the man’s strong shoulders, urging him not-so-gently further onto the dance floor.

He was a good dancer. Better than her, and his roaming, exploring hands on her ass didn't bother her at all. She leaned in, and when he closed the distance and kissed her, the way he used his tongue told her he was probably good at more than just dancing.

She leaned into him, into the kiss. Into the music and alcohol.

It was fun. She was having fun. She liked clubbing, liked dancing and meeting men and letting loose. She pulled back a little and looked into Caleb’s brown eyes, and…

Blue. Blue eyes. This wasn’t Caleb. Caleb was just some guy in a dream. Some guy that didn’t even exist outside of Alex’s shameless imagination.

The man in front of her was real. “What’s your name?” she asked, needing to banish all thoughts of the imaginary Caleb from her mind.

He leaned closer so that his lips were nearly touching her ear. “Jason,” he said.

Jason.

He was ridiculously attractive. Mr. All-American. A type she definitely enjoyed.

She kissed him again. He really was a fantastic kisser.

She felt someone step behind her and place their hands on her hips a moment before a familiar body pressed against her, sandwiching her between them.

Staci.

“Hello, bestie,” Staci said. Alex knew she was grinning at Jason over her shoulder. “I need to steal her for just a second,” Staci told the man. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She dragged Alex away, and Alex turned back to Jason with a shrug and a helpless gesture that she hoped he took as reassurance that she would be back.

“What did you do that for?” Alex asked.

“Just real quick,” Staci promised. “Dave is here.”

“Asshole Dave?” Alex asked.

“No, not Asshole Dave,” Staci said. “Friendly Dave.”

“Friendly Dave?” Alex didn’t remember a ‘Friendly’ Dave. Asshole Dave was an ex, but Friendly Dave…a vague memory emerged. “The one who bought you fast food after s*x?”

Staci shrugged. “It was nice. Friendly.”

Alex laughed. “You’re going to go hook up with French Fry Dave?” At least she would remember that name.

Staci shrugged again. “Yeah, why not? He’s got his own place now, so I’m going back there. I’ll share my location in case he’s actually Serial Killer Dave.”

They always shared their locations on their phones, and let the guys they were with know. And they usually went back to their own apartment, even if they were both bringing someone home. “Okay. Thanks for telling me.”

“Betcha. Go back to that cutie and take him home. Just keep it off the couch.”

Staci was hell on the idea of anyone having s*x on the couch. Too hard to clean, and she was strongly opposed to any kind of covering for it.

Just made it grosser, in her opinion.

Alex laughed, waved her off, and headed back to…Justin? Jackson?

Jason, she remembered just as she came back up to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He put his arms around her waist again, like this wasn’t the first night they’d met. Like he was already comfortable with her body.

She expected to feel that shimmer of heat begin to build inside her. The heat of anticipation, that tug of lust.

She felt…nothing.

She leaned into him, tipping her face up in a clear invitation for him to kiss her.

He did, his lips and tongue skillful against hers. His grip at her waist tightened, one hand traveling lower down her backside, and she ran her hands up into his hair, fisting those blond locks and throwing herself recklessly into the kiss.

But with her eyes closed, all she could see was Caleb’s face, Caleb’s eyes.

And those hands, though they’d roamed her body all night, felt like a stranger’s hands. They weren't Caleb’s hands, or Caleb’s lips. The taste and scent, it was all wrong, and she pulled back sharply.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said.

“What?” Jason asked, clearly confused.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Alex said, backing up.

“Did I do something?” His confusion and hurt made guilt creep into Alex.

“No, it isn’t you,” she said. It sounded lame as it came out. The oldest cliché that everyone recognized as a lie as soon as it was said.

But it was the truth. It wasn’t Jason. He hadn’t done anything…except not being the man of her dreams.