13 Dresses, booze, and stupid men

Date = 5 November

Place = San Francisco (Inferno)

POV - Melaena

A neon sign lights up above us. INFERNO. I drive around the building to the private parking area at the back. Inferno has three entrances … the front, for anybody … but being underage I can’t go in there. The club’s bouncers are extremely strict and thorough — even with me.

Then there’s the VIP entrance on the side. To get in there you need to be a somebody … and not just any somebody … one of the very special somebodies that are important enough to qualify for a special disk. Without the disk, you’ll have to wait in line like anybody else.

And then there’s the third entrance … the one I’m heading to know. This one requires another disk … the closed-circle one — for family and friends only. This disk opens a gate to a private underground parking area with a staircase leading straight to the VIP section on the second floor. The only area, except for the restaurant, where I’m allowed to go — yet.

I park the car and Lucinda’s eyes grow big with astonishment. “I’ve never been in this club?” She swipes back her glasses again and types a message on her phone before putting it back in her handbag. I realize I know nothing about the girl … how old she is … who she’s talking to that much … what she likes to do … we’re practically strangers who attend the same classes.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” She looks at me with a quizzical expression as if wondering why I asked.

“I just wondered since you’re on your phone a lot.” Now she looks alarmed. Maybe I stepped over the line. “Sorry, it’s not my business.” I smile at her. “I’m just used to oversharing with Kiara. And I tend to talk a lot.”

She pulls her mouth and looks down at the floor.

“It’s my brother. He thinks I’m still a little girl.”

“Oh, believe you me, I can relate to that,” I sneer. “If there’s one person on this earth who knows about domineering overbearing brothers it would be me.”

“Hey, Frank,” I greet the huge gorilla at the entrance. He gives me a warm smile while holding open the door.

“Welcome, Miss Mel.” He then nods politely at Lucinda, who lightly tips her head back as if she’s used to authority. Maybe her family is stinking rich with loads of employees. Another thing I don’t know about her.

“You only have one brother?” I ask while walking up the stairs.

“Yeah. It’s only three of us. Mom died long ago.” A flash of hate clouds her eyes. Seems we have more in common than just egotistical siblings.

“Mel, what are you doing here?” Talking of which, one of mine just appeared. But before I can answer, I’m swept off my feet and swinging through the air into a warm hug.

“Doofus.”

“Ah, I love you too.”

At least it seems as if he’s done sulking. He puts me down and kisses my cheek — like magic, my heart turns to mooch. Damn, they know just how to soften me up the stupid bastards.

“And who’s this lovely lady?” Enrique pulls out his charms, holding out his hand to Lucinda. She blushes beet-red, pupils dilated making her chocolate eyes appear much darker, almost eerie. My gut contracts.

“This is Lucinda. We study together.”

“Pleasure,” my brother says as she shakes his hand. I know Enrique won’t try anything with Lucinda, as she’s not his type. He’s into slutty models, not nerdy students — but being Enrique, he’s always the polite charmer. Well, almost always.

“You are not here for the company, so I guess you need some food? It’s the only reason my sister ever comes to my club.”

“I’m not old enough to drink anywhere else.”

He pushes a strand of light gold hair behind his ear. His hairstyle changes continuously depending on what’s needed for his modeling slash acting job — right now it’s in a simple Joe Black style that makes him look like Brad Pitt’s younger hotter brother.

But it’s his unique eyes that make him sizzle. He has Heterochromia and one eye is bright blue, while the other one is more of a blue hazel. Combine this with thick eyebrows and long lashes and you have the inexplicability of a storybook stare.

“I thought university students work their asses off!” Jackson’s voice springs up from behind me, also seemingly in a good mood — else he wouldn’t have concocted such a long sentence with so many words.

He looks like he just stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine, instead of just being released from the hospital.

Unlike his twin, he doesn’t flirt with Lucinda. Hell, he barely looks at her.

“Even nerds need to eat!” I scold him as he pulls me into a hug. I introduce Lucinda to him and he nods. That’s as much as she’s going to get from badboy Jackson.

Being identical twins, there is not much difference between them, except their eyes — Jackson’s are both blue. But there is a huge difference in personality.

Lucinda’s mouth opens and closes again, like a fish out of water. Yeah, unfortunately, my brothers have that effect on women. It’s damn irritating.

“Hey, guys, are we still having that IEM? Otherwise, I need to go get some sleep. I’m fucked up tired.” Ilkay shouts from the bar. Then he notices me and those gray eyes turn soft.

“Hi, Sis.”

“Dude, you’re always tired. I think you’re doing this whole university study thing wrong.” The boys love to tease each other. And since Ilkay is the only brother pursuing a higher education, his university life gets hammered constantly. I think it’s secretly their way of telling him to take things slow.

“What’s an IEM?” The boys have these codes they use, and they never let me and Kiara in on the secret — not even Axel. But then again, that man is as closed off as a snapping turtle in its shell. And at times, just as grumpy. Oh, wait … maybe that’s Jackson.

“An important emergency meeting you’re not invited to,” Logan grabs me from behind and lifts my feet from the ground. He’s taller than the other brothers — slightly broader too — his hair a darker shade of blond and his eyes the same steel color as Ilkay’s.

“Why?” I pout.

“Well, because you have tits and not a penis,” Jackson barks a short laugh while eyeing me with those devil eyes.

However, my brothers are not the only ones who have the ability to rile someone up. I’ve learned that the last thing any male sibling wants to know about is his sister’s feminine body parts. Oh, they love to see it on every other female, just not one they’re related to.

I grab the underside of my breasts and push them up.

“And they’re pretty nice tits, thank you very much!” It has the immediate effect of pissing them off. They look like they just drank sour breast milk from a menstrual cup — their expressions are just classic.

“Fuck,” one swears. And I feel like doing a little victory dance.

“I agree!” A voice whispers very softly in my ear and all my hair stands on end. Damion!

Fudge-buckets!

I quickly turn — hands still popping up my breasts — and they scrape against his arm. And now I’m the fish out of the fudging water.

Dammit.

I haven’t seen him since his party — on purpose.

I’ve avoided him. But I could not avoid thinking about him, or avoid wondering what he wanted to say but didn’t, nor could I smother that secret little hope that he might like me.

And to make matters worse, the one lucky paparazzi dude splattered photos of us all over the internet … intimate photos … like where he’s lying on top of me wiping my cheek, another one of me in his arms, his eyes closed, chin on my head … some very heartfelt ones of us on the dance floor … you get the gist.

Now the whole fudging world, and some, is speculating about our relationship and guessing how serious it is. And even more unnerving — how long it will last.

A group even started a couple-name: #Damena.

He lifts his arm and pushes his fingers through his disheveled hair, making it look even more unkempt. His navy polo-neck shirt stretches across his broad chest and shoulders. I lift my eyes to his and find him looking at me.

“Can you please let go of your goodies and get away from the man who is not related to you,” Jackson puts his hand to Damion’s face and pushes him back. Realizing my hands are still clutching my chest, I drop them. Seems the joke’s on me.

His arm now around Damion’s shoulder Jackson adds: “It’s enough that the whole world thinks you two are sneaking around for real.”

I slip into the booth, our private table in a secluded corner of the VIP section. From here you can see the stage downstairs with the dancing area through a double-sided glass.

I need to get back the upper hand. Logan brings some tequila shots and I down three before I realize just what I’ve done. I blame the shitty day I’m having; or the tension about D knowing my every move; or the fact that Damion looks big, bad, and hot.

“Maybe we are,” the lie rolls from my tongue so easily it’s out before I can pull it back.

Jackson’s sharp gaze flashes from me to Damion. His eyes turn from mild to hot.

“Man, maybe I must remind you again to stay away from my sister, dude,” It seems like an innocent, mocking, ridicule but I know better. It’s a real threat. Damion shrugs his shoulders.

“Been there, done that.” I’m not sure what he means but his indifferent attitude seems to surprise my cocky brother. Logan shoots out a cough and sends Damion a dark look.

Great, time to clear things up before it gets out of hand. Stupid frickin brothers.

“Oh, chillax will you, the chances of me sneaking around with your buddy is even less than Jackson falling in love with a girl.” For some reason, Jackson goes taut as a drum, looking more than a little queasy around the edges. Guess even just the thought of loving someone makes him sick to his stomach.

“So, did you find a dress?” Ilkay asks. Oldest brothers always know things, like when to turn the conversation.

“OMG, you guys should see your sister’s dress, it’s so frickin sexy the guys are going to fall at her feet.” Lucinda decided to join the conversation eventually.

“I’m telling you, it’s so tight and the slit is so high, only a teeny-tiny G-string will fit under there.” And now I really wish she hadn’t. And judging by their faces, they’re getting a very warped image in mind.

“Ug, why did our parents curse us by having a little sister? Another brother would have been so much easier,” Enrique moans.

“Seriously!” I snort.

“Yes, we wouldn’t have to worry about every guy wanting to fuck you if you were a dude, now would we,” Jackson says and I just shake my head. Sometimes my brothers are worse than Damion.

“What about me worrying about every girl wanting to fuck you?” I change it around. They all laugh loudly.

“It’s different.” Logan sounds utterly sexist. But the truth is, I don’t worry about their sex lives. Why do they need to stick their noses into mine?

“Exactly …” I snip, “I’m not like you guys! I think if you put a vagina on a teapot, you’ll probably screw it.” I eyeball them straight; challenging them like usual. But also like usual, I don’t even dent those oversized egos of theirs.

“Hey, we have principles. We don’t just screw any old pussy?” Enrique lets out a low sympathetic laugh. “Except maybe for Jackson.”

“Hey,” the other twin snorts, “I have a taboo list. And I’m seriously thinking that a kettle hosting a vagina should be on there.”

“You have a taboo list?” I ask. More because I’m not actually sure what that involves.

“You don’t?” Lucinda straightens her glasses and blinks, presumably putting her world into sharp focus. I feel like such a prude.

“Hell, I don’t even have a to-do list.” That’s the honest truth. I don’t have any lists; or any experience; or any action. And it’s all because of them. And HIM.

“You guys ruin my sex life!” Logan chokes and spills his drink over Enrique who swears and jumps up, hitting Damion with his knee.

Ilkay mutters, “Shit,” and Jackson goes into some kind of frozen coma for a beat.

“Come again?” he bids slowly as his color returns.

“You guys are ruining my sex life.” Enrique grabs some paper napkins from the table and wipes over his drenched crotch.

“I didn’t realize you have a sex life?” Logan prods.

“I don’t, because of you.” I intertwine my fingers to keep my hands from shaking. “You hover over me and scare every man away.” Damion gives a sickening sanctimonious smile. I point at him. “And you with your frickin curse shit! Because of that, I’ve never experienced anything. Do you think only guys get horny?”

“Fuck,” Jackson bellows and presses his fingers to his eyes. Logan gags and mutters, “Please stop.”

“Ug, you guys are the human version of a headache.” I get up and go to the bathroom. I spatter some water on my face and stare into the mirror. Am I ever going to experience a real orgasm? Or am I going to die a virgin? Maybe I should just do it with Ren and get it over and done with. I keep on staring into my own eyes.

The door opens and Damion strolls in.

“This is the women’s bathroom.”

“I know.” He looks around. “Not nearly as enigmatic as I thought it would be.”

I choke out a laugh while he stares at me through the mirror.

“What are you doing?” he asks. I’m seriously uptight and he’s a big part of that uptightness.

“I’m having a debate whether I should stay a virgin forever or if I should sleep with Ren and get it over with.”

“He’s not your only option,” he says with absolutely no mockery in his voice. Because it is all in his eyes. But there’s also something else in that green stare. And that tugs a surprised breath from me, a little hum of helpless arousal. Okay, maybe he’s right.

He sets his hands on my hips and steps forward until his chest is tight against my back.

“One of these days you’ll have to admit that you want me as bad as I want you.” He butterflies his mouth to my neck, a motion that sends sparks through all 100 billion neurons in my brain. He lets go and I nearly fall to the floor.

“We’ll talk soon.” And then he’s gone. My phone farts. Holding onto the sink with one hand to support my noodle legs, I check it.

D Stalker: Warning — stay away from the biker!

Another beep and a photo of me wearing the purple dress I just bought. This guy is seriously creeping me out. He’s everywhere. I take a deep breath and with one last look in the mirror, I walk out.

Lucinda is standing in the hallway talking on her phone, whispering, as if she doesn’t want anybody to hear the conversation. She looks rattled when she sees me and ends the conversation.

“Sorry, it was my dad. He’s a bit —” she pauses, probably looking for the right word, and then goes with “— intense.” I can relate to that. My whole damn family is intense.

We walk back to the table and I drink another shot of tequila.

“Can you order us some food,” I ask Logan. “I’m starving?” Maybe I’ll feel better after I eat something.

“Why do we feed her again?” Enrique teases.

“Cause she gets cranky when we don’t,” Jackson raps.

“And then she screams at us,” Ilkay continues.

“Good point. Burgers it is.”

Axel arrives with three men and walks over to our table.

I recognize my dog trainer — Alejandro — the guy who saw my unflattering fall as I got acquainted with sweet Mother Earth this morning on my way to class. It was absolutely classic. The other guys are Noah, an engineering student, and Jesse, who is in some of my IT classes.

“Hey, girl,” Alejandro shifts in next to me. “How’s your knee?” I blush, experiencing the embarrassment all over again.

“Just a little scrape.”

I notice a seriously icy stare-off happening between Alejandro and Damion. The one glare is pure solid ice while the other is the pits of hell.

Ug, their petty Alpha ego match has nothing to do with me. I drink another tequila. At this rate, I will need a lift home.

And not even the alcohol can make me forget his words in the bathroom.

There’s only one problem — I play for keeps and he is not into keeping.