Without thought, I closed the phone and shot up, grabbing my keys and heading out.
I recognized the bar and hoped they hadn’t moved since the video had been posted. Otherwise, I might as well slap on a robe and curlers and hunt down my child like a crazy person.
Fuck. I’d already delved headfirst into crazy. But walking into Japp’s, I didn’t care.
I especially didn’t care when I spotted her red hair piled on top of her head toward the back. Amber and Gia sat on one side and Arabella on the other. The other two stood out, but Arabella’s vintage confidence blended in with the old-time design.
My steps slowed, and I hesitated. She almost smiled and looked more relaxed than I’d seen her. She looked happy.
I stopped, ready to turn back when Amber saw me.
“Oh my god, Dr. Deander,” she squealed.
Arabella’s head whipped my way. Even though her eyes widened, her mouth softened to an actual smile. More than the smirk she gave everyone else, but less than the laugh I knew she was capable of.
The girls waved me over, and every second of my thirty-three years weighed on me as I loomed over this young table. I assumed the other girls were over twenty-one since they had a colorful drink in hand except for Arabella. The two blondes who looked freakishly similar also had matching glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.
“Hello, ladies.”
“Hey, Dr. D. Can I call you Dr. D?”
“Sure,” I laughed. Looking around the group, I noticed one missing. “Where’s Xander?” I asked Arabella.
“Probably picking up that chick that followed us from Motor,” one of the blondes answered, rolling her eyes.
“Oh my god, how lucky are you, Bella, to have Dr. D as your uncle,” the other cut in before I could ask anything else.
“So lucky,” she deadpanned. Neither of the girls heard the sarcasm in her voice.
“I mean, if you ever wanted to do a sleepover, I’d totally be down,” one of them said, looking up at me and swaying in her seat.
“You’re such a slut, Amber,” the other giggled.
I wondered if Arabella knew she was openly scowling at the two girls.
“Do you want to dance, Dr. D?” Amber asked, completely unperturbed by her friend’s insult.
“Oh, no, thank you. I appreciate the offer. I just happened to come down here for a drink. It’s a coincidence I ran into you. I don’t want to interrupt Arabella’s night out before school.”
Arabella’s head tipped to one side, and I wondered what was going through her mind. Did she think I was a stalker? I kind of felt like one. She left for a night out, and there I was showing up too.
Her face looked like a placid lake, showing zero emotion beyond curiosity.
“Oh, Bella is having fun. You’re totally not interrupting. I never knew she was such a good dancer.”
“I didn’t know either,” I admitted.
Her gaze dropped to the clear liquid in her tall glass, which I hoped was water, and doubt hit me harder than before. I’d have expected her to lift her chin higher and make some comment about how she was the best damn dancer there. Instead, she looked away, and I missed her curious stare from moments before.
Despite that, I still wasn’t ready to leave.
“I’m just going to grab a drink at the bar. Enjoy your night.”
She glanced up, but her dark golden eyes gave nothing away.
I promised myself just one beer to make my reasons look valid, and then I’d head home.
I chatted with the bartender, the entire time keeping my eye on Arabella. A few glances over let me know she kept her eyes on me too. However, so did the girls with a lot less subtlety.
I’d almost finished my beer when a Black Keys song came on, and all three stood up, moving to the small dance floor. At first, I tried not to openly stare, but soon my glances grew longer. One song bled into another, and I learned first-hand, that Amber was right, Arabella was a good dancer.
Her body swayed with the beat in an effortless sexy way. The sheer material of her skirt like a curtain you wanted to shove out of the way to watch the full show of her strong legs. The smooth skin of her stomach flexed with each roll and twist. Her tits bouncing with her arms lifted high.
I fought to look away—to not stare, until she turned, her eyes locking on mine and any lack of emotions before vanished. Instead of placid curiosity, fire burned across the space between us. Her eyes demanded I watch her—watch the show she put on. For me.
Her lips parted, her tongue peeking out to slick across the rosy bottom curve. Her hands slid down her body, back up past her breasts and around her neck. My hands clenched, aching to follow the same path.