Escapism (The Escapism Series) (3 page)

  “What are these?” Marla asked, as the bartender placed three tropical- looking drinks before us.

  “Just drink it,” Calliope bossed, flashing her pearly white teeth.

  “Ooh. A mini umbrella and a cherry too—me likey.” I smiled, playing with the mini umbrella.

  Afterward, the girls and I danced our way over to the ladies room to freshen up. The spacious washrooms were filled with girls touching up makeup and chatting about boys. Everything appeared how it should—even with the token drunk girl stretched over the toilet throwing up while her inconvenienced friend held her hair back.

  My favorite part about clubbing in the summer was not the club scene itself, but the music and especially the view from the rooftop patio. It felt like the stars came out to play, sparkling ever so brightly while having drinks with old friends, friends of friends, and potential new friends or interests. I loved going out and dancing with the girls; we always had the best time.

  As midnight approached, we made our way over to the VIP lounge in time for the unveiling of Landon’s elaborate triple-layer chocolate and vanilla cake, apparently his favorite, according to one of his drunken guests who spat his words.

  As the big crowd serenaded Landon, one of his guests caught my eye. I gazed at him once. He sported a white blazer, dress shirt, and dark jeans. His dark brown hair was barely long enough to be tucked behind his ears. He glared at me with penetrating gray eyes.

  We had met before—
I was sure of it
.

  He lurked from behind the crowd as Landon blew out his birthday candles, all twenty of them. His friends cheered him on while I looked over every so often at the mysterious, tall and striking guy—I wished I knew his name.

  He smiled and approached me.

  “Xenia,” he said with great relief as he lured me aside with his presence. “I am ready to travel,” he whispered as he held out his hand, waiting patiently.

  “Excuse me? Travel where?”
I was oblivious at this time.

  “To Styx,” he replied. “You’re Xenia, right?”

  “Yes, but I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” I anxiously took a step back.

  “I’m searching for my missing...” he trailed off, taking note of my cluelessness, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You really don’t know why I am here, do you?”

  “No, sorry. I don’t.”

  He stood for a moment, bewildered.

  “And you are?” I asked.

  He grinned and held out his hand. I hesitantly placed my hand in his. Everything changed in a split second as light flickered before my eyes and I saw us both someplace in a different time—
I remembered him
.

  “
Nicholas Wyles
,” I said, astonished.

  “Welcome,
my Charon
,” he smiled, soothed by my revelation.

   I furrowed my brow as his cryptic words eluded me.

  “I’m going to go now,” I said, awkwardly backing away.

  I turned to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine, while he hesitantly approached me.

  “May I join you for a drink?” he asked. His lips slowly curved into a smile.

  “I don’t know,” I said, continuing, “What’s your angle?”

  “I have no angle,” he said with a grin.

  “Everyone’s got an angle,” I countered.  The room seamed to spin ever so slightly. 

 
Stupid tropical umbrella drink
.

  “In that case, I’m interested in hearing
your
angle,” he said, leveling me with his eyes.

  The bartender placed a wine glass in front of me and poured the dark red wine. I took a sip almost immediately, buying some time.

  “You don’t have to answer,” he said politely, having sensed my nervousness. “Can we start over?”

  I nodded and he quickly started over.

  “Hello. I’m Nicholas.” Though he strained to keep a straight face, his lips formed into a hint of a smile. This time, he did not extend his hand and I felt relieved as I was still shaken up from the first time.

  “Xenia,” I whispered.

  “Fun party, huh?” he searched for my wandering gaze as I looked for my friends amongst the crowd.

  I nodded in agreement, figuring that it was my turn to carry the conversation, awkward as it felt.

  “How do you know Landon?” I asked.

  Nicholas appeared amused by my fidgety body language; my hand moved from my hip to my side and back.

  “I’m...an old friend,” he replied. “How do
you
know Landon?”

  “We met in the gym at York U, where I’m attending school this year,” I replied more confidently.

  “Meet a lot of guys in the gym, do you?” Nicholas teased as the bartender placed a glass of red wine before him.

  “Um...not really,” I said, blushing. “What about you?”

  Nicholas took a quick survey of his surroundings before his eyes focused entirely on me.

  “I’m not into guys,” he mocked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Where do you meet
girls
then?”

  He leaned in toward me. “Birthday parties,” he whispered.

  My face lite up red as the instant blood rush shocked my system. I fought the urge to smile, nervously looking away, searching through the crowd. “I should go find my friends.”

  “Too forward? I come off a little strong sometime.” His devilishly alluring grin was becoming a weakness of mine.

  “You? Forward?
No
,” I replied, playfully.

  Nicholas laughed a warm laugh—a familiar sound that made my heart beat erratically. There was something about him, but I wasn’t sure just yet what that was.

  I took another sip of wine and enjoyed the sweet taste of port sinking into my every last taste bud. I redirected my focus back to Nicholas who was simply staring at me now waiting for a response after his bout of laughter. Without a doubt, his charming demeanor and physical size commanded attention.

  He played a little with the collar of his shirt, attempting to loosen it, it seemed. A sign of unease—to my surprise—I did not want to be the only one.

  “Xenia, would you like to head back down to the party?” he motioned toward the stairs.

  “Good idea. My friends must be looking for me,” I smiled and looked down at my fabulous, yet uncomfortable stilettos with regret.

  We made our way down the stairwell and joined the party once again. The ambiance had changed accordingly as the night progressed. The lights dimmed and the music became louder as more and more people took to the dance floor.

  “Xenia, care to dance?” he asked. The corner of his lip curved up into a half smile.

  “Sure, I’d...uh-huh,” I replied, breathing deeply as my knees slightly buckled from beneath me.

  Nicholas seemed amused by my startled response.  He removed his blazer and placed it over a rail by a booth.

  He slowly placed his right hand on my hip as though he were afraid that I would jump out of my own skin—I just about did. I could feel my skin boil where his hand rested. He held his left hand open, waiting patiently. I placed my hand slowly into his embrace, while my other hand rested atop his shoulder. My arms instantaneously became saturated with goose bumps, referring chills down my spine and sending flickers of light in my line of vision.

  “Sorry,” I gasped, awkwardly retracting my stunned hand and resting both hands on his shoulders instead. “This feels more comfortable.”

  I felt an unprecedented amount of tension in his presence. I looked closely in Nicholas’ eyes for the first time. His eyes appeared less defined as the black spokes that converged in the center were now a watery mix within each iris, forming a gray black swirl—I was mesmerized by them.

  “I feel the same way, Xenia,” he whispered.

 
Was I hallucinating? 2-0 for the tropical umbrella drink.

  “I know we only just met, but you also make me feel...
different
,” he elucidated.

  “You mean, like...
nervous
?” I was extremely invested in where the conversation was going.

  “Hmm...yes,” he whispered. “Being in your presence alone makes me feel like I’m someone else entirely.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said slowly. “
I
make
you
nervous?”

  Nicholas was amused by my disbelief. He leaned in and I felt his lips softly brush my earlobe as he whispered into my right ear. “You make me nervous, Xenia, and,” he paused, flinching. “You’re hurting me.”

  His hands edged toward his shoulders and I realized that my nails were digging into him. When I became nervous, I latched on to inanimate objects or—worse—people.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m feeling a little edgy tonight myself.”

  Nicholas smiled in relief as my long nails declawed through his shirt.

  The music stopped and we moved apart, analyzing each other. The tension between us was uncanny.

  The live music was a fusion of rock, blues and pop. It created uproar amongst the pleased crowd. I saw Marla and Calliope dancing with Landon and a blond guy with an athletic build—likely a jock friend of Landon’s. They waved while Landon danced in his drunken oblivion. I returned the wave, happy to have retraced my friends’ whereabouts. Nicholas stood a few steps away, resting one hand behind his back. With his other hand, he reached for my hand expectantly. Like a gentleman he bowed before twirling me on the dance floor. The atmosphere in the club changed into something euphoric; the air was sweeter, accompanied by the deeper vibrations of the bass searing through my body as if it was a second heartbeat. I danced around Nicholas in a tantalizing way while my fingers grazed his body. With my back facing him, my hands lightly brushed his shoulders, his arms, and then thighs as I slithered to the ground while my hips swayed side to side, no more than a mere sensation of a feather against our bodies. I felt the music pulling me to the depths of the earth—almost calling for me. Just like a Maenad happily twirling and drinking, while following the essence of the great Dionysus with a glass of wine in one hand, and a follower in the other. We danced until the early morning almost as a tribute to the ancient worlds.

  In an instant, I broke free of the trance long enough to see through my hazy vision and visualize my surroundings. Nicholas was by the bar while I abruptly left to search for Marla and Calliope on the dance floor. Strangely, I was overcome by an urge to keep dancing as every sensation felt intensified—it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was otherworldly.

  My throat tingled as the wine made its way down, circulating a cold sensation throughout my body. My awareness was drawn to the golden fabric draped along the walls and to a sensual energy emanating from not only the music, but from the very air. Women danced in sheer fabrics; they climbed on top of six black wooden boxed stages throughout the dance floor. Every bronzed, rippled abdominal muscle contracted and then straightened as they moved, twisted, and twirled in a blissful state. Vines miraculously branched through the cracks in the red brick wall, displaying the living forces of nature around us. The branches seemed to expand as the vibe of the room magnified. As I looked around, it appeared as though I was the only one who had noticed the changes. I looked back to see Nicholas leaning by the bar in a blasé manner, merely observing those around him.

  My attention was diverted briefly to a man surrounded by women in a reserved booth. I couldn’t take my eyes off his body for reasons other than vanity. His upper torso was covered in a series of interesting tattoos partly covered by his black tank top. I unintentionally gazed in his direction, initiating unwanted attention. He cocked his head and glared at me. I instantly looked away. His hair was dirty blond and his eyes were the lightest green I had ever seen.

  While the pounding music vibrated throughout my body, I discretely looked over my shoulder to examine the tattooed guy every now and then, unsure of what drew me to his direction—aside from the body art, women, and bottle service.

  He caught my gaze and waved his hand as if to summon me. As my mind deliberated, my legs took off, seemingly unaffected by rational thought. As I neared, I hesitated after my mind re-established control over my idle legs, sending messages for immediate flight.

  “Do you know where you are?” he asked. He glared at the women around him and one by one they left his side.

  “Styx Nightclub, right?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied. He leaned in closer with his elbows perched over on his knees.

  “Have you traveled here before?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied. I looked for Nicholas, but I had lost him in the crowd.

  “I beg to differ,” he said, reaching toward me. Just as he was about to touch my face, Nicholas reappeared.

  “
Excuse us
,” he said to the tattooed guy. “Xenia, come with me.” Nicholas shot a revolting gaze over his shoulder, while he led me over to a vacant booth. He appeared conflicted, straining a smile.