Page 5 of The Pursuit of Happiness
Rogan raises a brow, “Shit. She’s settled down. I never thought I’d see the day. How come that didn’t blow up in the tabloids?”
I snort a laugh, “I don’t know how you didn’t. That’s all the media’s been talking about for five months.”
“Guess I’m living under a rock then,” he laughs, his energy shifting into a warmer one.
The waitress returns with drinks for all of us and as the next hour passes, I lose myself in the liquor, the feeling of Sly next to me comforting in a way I couldn’t imagine. In another hour, I’m hyper fixating on the dimples in Sly’s smile, in the way that his throat bobs when he swallows his drink, the way that his lips move when he talks. I imagine what it would be like to kiss his lips. I don’t think about what we came here to celebrate, which is our album and our booming success. Instead, all I can think about is Sly Nicks and the way that I’m undeniably attracted to him in a way that I haven’t been to another person since Duncan.
My memory starts to get shotty and I can’t remember thirty minutes prior, but all I can remember next is dancing with Sly on the dance floor, our bodies rubbing against each other, sweat dripping down our bodies, the way our hands explored each others bodies, and this incessant need to feel his body against mine in a much different way, preferably with a lot less clothing between us.
My memory keeps skipping in and out, choppy in a lot of places, but the only thought I seem to remember clearly throughout the entirety of the night after Sly Nicks showed up in our VIP booth is that there’s going to be no coming back after tonight.
Chapter 1
Aria
Present
The warmth that I’menveloped in is like a cocoon. I’ve never felt more at peace or relaxed in my entire life. I’m sleeping so peacefully, oblivious to the plethora of violence and darkness in the world around me. The only thing that matters to me at the moment is how comfortable this bed is beneath my body and how warm and serene this pillow is beneath my cheek.
I’ve never slept so well in my life. I feel myself beginning to stir awake, and I hum as I burrow my head further into my pillow, not wanting to escape this peaceful slumber. As I wake, I notice a steady rising and falling beneath my head in a gentle manner. I also immediately notice that I’m experiencing easily the worst headache I’ve ever had and that’s saying something because I have been hungover more times than I can count.
I try my best to cling to my sleep, but it proves feeble as the headache worsens. I accept that I won’t be able to get that sleep back and annoyed, I decide to get up and immediately locate some headache medicine. I groan as I lift my head off the pillow, “Fuck.”
I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands and feel a cool draft on my skin, all the hairs rising on my skin. Why is it so cold? I feel a draft on the skin of my thigh and look down only to realize I’m completely naked. I do a double take to make sure I’m not hallucinating, but as I suspected, I’m butt ass naked. I hear a groan from somewhere beside me and suck in a shocked gasp. I’m not alone.
My head whips in the direction of the source of the groan and when my eyes land on what or rather,whomade the noise, my stomach drops and the air is stolen from my lungs. Beside me in bed is Slater Nicks. I slap a hand over my mouth in shock as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. I take in the sight of him, also completely naked and realize that the very comfortable “pillow” I had slept on was in fact his bare chest.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I take in the sight of him and the pieces start to come together. I glance around the room quickly and realize we’re in a very large hotel room and the entirety of the room is destroyed from God only knows what. Panic sets in and I realize how big of a problem this is because I can not for the life of me remember anything past him sitting with Ivory and I in our VIP booth and then maybe dancing with him at one point? I jump out of bed and wrap myself in a sheet that was haphazardly thrown on the floor as I whisper yell, “Fuck! Fuck! Shit!”
He groans again and then I hear a surprised breath from behind me. He must’ve just realized he’s not alone and from there pieced the rest together just like I did. “Holy shit,” he whispers to himself.
I hold the sheet around my naked body and start to search for my clothes. I find my pants in a lazy pile on the floor, but I’m struggling to find my top and my panties. This is easily the most embarrassing and most humiliating thing I have ever experienced in my life. I will hang my head in shame for the rest of my life, I decide as I find my panties under a broken lounge chair. I frown when I realize they’re torn. What the fuck happened last night?
“Aria?” Slater’s raspy voice, still full of sleep, calls from behind me.
I want so badly not to look at him, but his voice is so compelling I just can’t help it. I slowly turn to find him seated on the edge of the bed, a pair of boxers that must’ve been discardedby his side of the bed on the floor. His hair is messy and tousled in a way that makes me want to jump back in bed and say fuck it to the panic I’m experiencing. Only, when I say “back in bed” that would imply I remember getting into it in the first place because in all honesty, I have not one idea what happened last night save for the obvious.
He pushes his hair back with anxious fingers, “Are you okay?” His voice is full of trepidation.
Am I okay? Is he serious? “Do I look okay?” I snap. “I have no memory of what went on last night after you showed up in my booth and I know I didn’t drink enough to blackout.”
He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck to have something to do with his hands. “I don’t remember anything after that either.” He drops his head into his hands and groans, “God, why does my head hurt so bad?” I scoff and ignore him, continuing my search for my top. A second later he asks, “Are you looking for this?”
I look up at him and find that he has my top in his hands. I hesitate before I suck it up and walk over to him. The closer I get, the scent of him floods my nostrils more and more. He has an intoxicating scent like tobacco and vanilla in a way. I snatch my top out of his tattooed hand and start to walk away in search of my phone because how could I have forgotten my phone? “I didn’t know you had that tattoo,” he observes from behind me.
I look over my shoulder with a questioning brow. I have plenty of tattoos and I’m not sure which he’s referring to since my body is encased in a white, scratchy hotel sheet. I find his eyes trained on my back and right away I know he’s referring to the tattoo on my spine. It’s a quote in a scripted font that reads “the pursuit of happiness.” He’s staring at it with curiosity in his turquoise eyes and what looks like a small twinge of sadness before he forces his eyes to meet mine. “I got it a year ago I think,” I answer as I continue my search for my phone. “Haveyou seen my phone?” I ask, giving up a moment later when my frustration has gotten the best of me.
He rises from his spot in the bed and the full view of his naked body, save for his boxers, has me salivating. I curse my libido as he catches me ogling him. He smirks and walks over to me slowly, seductively. I freeze in place, unsure of what to do. On one hand, Slater is a God in human form. It’s like I went to God and told him all my visual preferences in a man and he sent Slater down from Heaven. On the other hand, he is my direct competition for that award and as if that weren’t enough, I’m also not entirely sure what went on last night and I don’t know him. He could’ve been involved in my lack of memory because I will repeat, I DID NOT EVEN DRINK THAT MUCH!
He stops in front of me and lowers his head enough so that there’s only a few inches between our lips. I’m tall for a woman, but he’s tall enough that I still have to look up to meet his eyes. “Why did it take you this long?”
The spell he has me in immediately shatters as I have no idea what he’s talking about. My brows furrow, “Excuse me?”
He snorts a laugh as if he thinks I’m making some kind of joke, “Tell me.”
I shrug, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
He searches my eyes for some kind of humor but finds nothing so he continues, the tips of his ears turning pink, “Why did it take you so long to give me even the slightest bit of attention?”
