Invisible Love Letter (5 page)

D
ecember 23
^rd
.

The music blasted from the speakers as I walked across Sparrows’ crowded dance floor and headed towards Axel and Sally. They were swaying to the music near the right side of the stage. Sally's smile grew wide when she noticed me. Her arms wrapped around me and she jumped with excitement.

“You actually came!”

I pulled away and nodded. Of course I was there. It was my job to attend Venus Cara’s performance since it was for the tour the radio station was hosting. Though, there was nothing fun about hanging out at a packed club on a Wednesday night when I had to work the next morning.

“What do you want to drink?” Axel asked, holding his drink in the air.

“Rum and Coke,” I shouted over the music. One drink to take the edge off and then I could drink Coke for the rest of the night.

“Look who decided to show?”

His breath was hot against my skin, and chills ran up my spine. Of course, when Weston spoke to me in a crowded nightclub, I could hear him perfectly. I rolled my eyes the second I heard his voice. Closing my eyes, I sighed and turned toward him. I hadn’t seen him since his rude comment about me slouching and wanted to tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine, but my snarky comment lodged in my throat when I noticed he wasn't alone.
He was never alone.

I put a fake smile on my face. “Work.”

Axel handed me my drink. Weston eyed it before turning back to face me. “Don't work too hard.” With a wink and a smile that did things to my insides, he walked away to join the sweaty bodies on the dance floor.

Ugh!

I hated him.

Every direction I turned he seemed to be right there, a step ahead of me and catching me off guard. The conceited prick always managed to dampen my mood and ignite something inside me, something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Yet.

Sally grabbed my arm. “Come on, let's dance.”

Music was my therapy, my serenity. Once on the floor, my body began to sway to the rhythm and my feet began to move. I pushed my hips harder, faster, and my heart pounded as all thoughts of Weston were lost to the beat.

Sally vanished with Axel somewhere through the third song, but I didn’t mind. I liked to be alone on the dance floor. And if I did dance with anyone, it needed to be someone who knew how to move between songs.
Like Weston…

I felt a rough hand wrap around my bodice and looked back to see who it was. A man I didn’t know wiggled behind me, his pelvis shoved into my butt. I spun and pushed on his chest, but he continued to move towards me. I stepped past him to make my way back to the bar, but he grabbed my hand. This guy wouldn't take no for an answer.

I tugged out of his grasp. “I'm sorry, but I don't want to dance.”

“One dance, baby?” He tugged on my hand, and I stumbled towards his chest.

“I said no.”

A different pair of hands wrapped around me and pulled me into a strong chest. The scent of cinnamon and leather formed a cloud around me.

“She's with me.”

Clingy Dude raised his hands in the air to apologize before he finally walked away. Weston’s firm touch rested on my lower back.

“Thank you,” I whisper-yelled into his ear.

“Dance with me.” He slid his tongue over his lips.

The deejay had been playing everything upbeat, so I didn’t see the harm. I gave a slight nod and he reached for my hand. The music scratched and the music changed to a slow song. The bass was intense as Weston pulled my body towards him, our faces mere inches apart. I closed my eyes so I couldn't admire his gorgeous features. Somewhere deep inside of me I remembered I was pissed at him. But the way he moved made me forget about his stupid dents. Nothing mattered.

He tugged me closer to him. Our bodies touched, pressing and sliding against each other. My breath grew short and my heart accelerated; I couldn't pull myself away. The people around us faded. It was just us.

Our sweat.

Our breaths.

Weston laced his fingers through mine and led me to a wall near the stage. I followed right behind him. I was so drunk in his moves that my feet moved effortlessly. He spun me into his arms and shifted me until my back was flush against the cool block. Weston didn’t stop moving as the deejay stopped the music and Venus Cara took the stage.

The music faded into the background. Weston hummed as his hips moved against mine. All I heard was the steady beat of my heart. Venus Cara greeted the crowd, but Weston kept me in his cage; our bodies swayed to our own slow beat. His head rested against mine. “There isn’t a single dent when you dance. Perfection.” His voice was low and sexy as he pushed his hips deeper into mine.

I wanted his lips on mine.

I wanted his lips covering every inch of my body.

His tongue … oh, God, I wanted his tongue on my skin.

I wanted him
.

“Let’s hear it, ladies. I want to see you drop it!” Venus Cara began to sing about getting low, feeling close. Her songs were graphic, vulgar,
raunchy
. The beat was slow and steady as Weston sang along with her. I couldn’t pull away.

I wanted this.

I wanted him.

His leg stepped between mine and he pressed me against the solid surface behind me. It made breathing difficult. His hands locked with mine, our fingers as he lifted them slowly overhead. Our foreheads touching, we continued to sway.

If he fucked like he danced
. . .

I couldn’t let my mind travel there. It was one dance. One song.

Weston's lips trailed down my cheek and rested on my shoulder. All I had to do was turn my head and our lips would meet.

Strike one. Musician

Strike two. Womanizer

You don’t want to be like your parents.

I needed to hide from this sexual hold he had over me. Squeezing my way around him, I turned so my chest was pressed against the wall. His erection was now pressed against my backside. Weston pushed my hair to one side, baring my neck. His face resting on my ear. He moaned as his fingertips dug into my waist, and I grew hungry with desire for him. My core tightened with pent up desire. I pushed against his readiness, matching the sound of the bass. It was pure delectable torture.

I was in trouble.

Big freaking trouble.

A bead of sweat dripped down my neck, the heat all-consuming. I swallowed back my want and pressed my hands against the cold wall. Anything to alleviate the pain between my legs, but then Weston did the one thing that put me over the top.

Made me a goner.

Made my hate for him vanish.

He pressed his lips against the lobe of my ear and took a small lick before his tongue trailed down my sweaty neck. And then he bit my shoulder blade.

I was done for. Done for him.

My subconscious shouted in my head.

He’s a womanizer.

You’re one of many.

I pushed off the wall and left him there. I couldn’t fall for a man like him. If I didn't walk away now, I never would. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” I murmured.

He groaned as I practically jogged to the bathroom. The line for the stalls extended out the door. I shoved my way past the girls and made my way to the sink. I let the water run cold before I soaked a towel and rested it on the back of my neck. My skin still tingled from his lips, from where his mouth had been on my sweaty skin. I closed my eyes and replayed everything in my head.
His hard erection pressed against me, his hands caging me in…

“Get a grip,” I murmured under my breath.

Weston had been the biggest pain in my ass, a constant reminder as to why a man like him was the last thing I wanted in my life. Yet, there I stood with a cool towel on my nape, my heart racing, and my core hot and ready.

I lifted my eyes from the sink, letting them scan my face in the mirror. I wanted to be with Weston. I wanted to be with him regardless of how much he annoyed me. Regardless whether I was walking in my mother’s footsteps.

I needed him.

Though I wanted to run back to his arms, there was a tug on my gut that told me not to go back. Men like him only broke the hearts of girls like me.

N
ew Year’s Eve
was a big night at Sparrows. I’d been there over a month and had just been given my first private party. While the other bartenders were assigned the rest of the club, I was given the VIP party room because it was typically less stressful. Most people bought bottles, so I would have a minimal amount of work. It worked for me since I wasn’t as fast as the other girls.

I was moving back and forth, setting up my bar before the guests began to trail in, when I heard a tapping on the bar. I looked up from the cooler and was greeted with Weston’s gorgeous grin. He looked stunning in his white button-down shirt and gray slacks, and I couldn't peel my eyes away from his smile. I hadn’t seen him since a couple of days before Christmas.

“Seriously! You're at this party?” I was both shocked and angry. I was thrilled to be around him, but I wouldn't be able to focus with him watching my every move. I remembered how his lips felt on my neck

“No.” His voice was clear and strong. “I heard you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Hi.” My voice came out sounding breathless like I’d just run around the block.

“Alrighty then.” He smirked. “I'll come back at midnight to wish you a Happy New Year.” He winked before he reached for my hand. I let him grasp it. I wanted the skin-to-skin contact. “Don't work too hard.”

When he walked away, I was finally able to exhale. I was a lust-sick puppy. I took the hand that he’d held and brought it over my heart. I was fucking doomed. What the hell was wrong with me? I shook the jitters from my body and went back to restocking my bar. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

The party was in full swing, the music was blasting, and Sparrows was packed to the brim. To my surprise, a hoard of people were at my bar. They kept me busy and my mind off of Weston.
Mostly.

Mike sat at the end of the bar. I’d met him the first weekend I trained with Sally and he’d quickly become my regular. He was a good tipper and easy on the eyes: funny, charming and a complete flirt. Tonight, he had parked his six-foot tall body and refused to move.

He joked while I tended to other customers. He told me he had been dragged there against his will, but then admitted he made it up and I would be kissing him at midnight. He was my company for the night since most people were focused on the party.

“Three minutes until my kiss,” Mike said.

“I'm not kissing you.” I grabbed the empty beer bottle from the bar top and tossed it in the can.

“How about on the cheek?” He placed his vodka tonic on the wooden bar and turned his chin. Tossing my bar rag at him, I shook my head, grinning as I walked away.

As the sparklers were passed around, Mike shouted at me, “This is your last chance.”

The clock stated it was 11:59 pm and the music had turned off. I scanned the room for Weston as the crowd counted down, but he was nowhere in sight.

Ten.

Nine.

Mike leaned over.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

“How about on the cheek.”

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Weston hadn’t showed.

Feeling like a fool, I walked over to Mike and pointed to his cheek, but when I leaned in, he turned and placed a kiss on my lips.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Hey! That wasn’t the deal.”

“Happy New Year, Emilia.” Mike smirked.

It wasn’t the New Year’s kiss I’d wanted, but it would have to do. “Next time you do that I'll have security kick your ass out.”

“It’ll totally be worth it.”

I grabbed a handful of ice cubes and tossed them at him. “Ass!”

I searched the crowd again for Weston.

Nothing.

I
hadn’t worked
at Sparrows since New Year’s, and I had stayed in on the weekends. I was avoiding Axel and Leslie’s requests to go out. I even avoided planning my twenty-first birthday. I was in a funk—a Weston funk—and didn’t want to talk to either of them about it, so I focused on work.

I was sitting at the kitchen table going over notes for my meeting with Cinthia when I heard my phone chirp. A strange message stared back at me.

My Love: What are you doing Thursday night?

Me: Who is this?

My Love: Your love. Tell me what you’re doing Thursday.

I hit the send button. It rang only once before a familiar low voice answered. “What are you doing Thursday night?” Weston laughed.

“
Weston
?” My heart accelerated as I realized I was on the phone with him.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“How did … How is your number in my phone?”

“That Tuesday night when I saw you at Sparrows and you refused to give me your information? You left your phone by the register and walked away.”

That was . . . a few weeks ago. I should have been mad, but the heat spreading through my limbs told me otherwise.
Why hadn’t he called me sooner?
What had happened to him on New Year's Eve?
But I didn’t dare go there. Deep down, I already knew the answer.

“What's Thursday?”

“My birthday party.”

“Where?”

“Rinse.”

Rinse was an upscale rooftop nightclub in the heart of Los Angeles. Axel raved over it any chance he could. I had driven by when the line was wrapped around the block, but I’d never had the pleasure of entering.

“I can't get in. I'm not twenty-one yet.” I tried to mask the disappointment in my voice by not sighing. I did allow my lips to pout when I imagined the night we wouldn’t get to share.

“You'll be my special guest for the night, so no one will give you a hard time.” His voice was low, causing my flesh to tingle even more.

He had me.

“Okay,” I whispered. I both hated and loved the way my body reacted to him. I couldn’t control it.

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

“Wait, why?” Panic creeped up my spine. He couldn’t … I shouldn’t … but, hell, I wanted him to.

“You're my date for the night. Is that okay? I mean, it's the only way I can get you in.”

Deep breaths. Act cool.

“Yeah, that should be fine.”

“Alrighty then.” He chuckled.

“Are you ever going to stop that?”

“Nah, it's our thing.”

My stomach flopped.
We had a thing?
“I'll see you Thursday,” I said with a shaky voice. My mouth dried with anxiety from our short conversation.

“Don't miss me too much.”

It’s too late for that, Weston.
I hung up my phone and stared at the black screen. I had a semi, sort of date with Weston. Crap! What had I agreed to?

“Leslie!” I screeched.

“What?” She came running from her bedroom.

“We have to go shopping! Pronto!”

“Seriously? You screamed like the house was on fire.” She swatted my arm as she passed me and walked towards the kitchen.

“Sorry, but can we please go shopping tomorrow.” I gave her my best puppy dog face. I only had one day to find the perfect outfit.

A smile grew on her face. “Did you finally pick a place for your birthday bash? We can all get cute cocktail dresses.”

“It’s for Weston’s birthday.” I shrugged. “I still don’t know what I want to do for mine yet.”

Leslie yanked the fridge door halfway open and cocked her head back at me. “Weston? Why do you want to shop for his birthday?” she asked I watched as she pulled a bowl of cherries out of the fridge.

“Well, it’s at Rinse, and you know how picky they are about their dress code. I’m already underage.”

“You sure that’s the only reason?” She popped a cherry in her mouth.

“Yes…”

“Mmm hmm.” Leslie flicked the stem at me.

“Can we?” I ignored her curious brown eyes. She was trying to figure out what was happening between Weston and me.

“Sure.” She grabbed the bowl of cherries and started to stroll back to her bedroom. “But I’m on to you, Emmy.”

T
hursday night
the bell rang through the quiet apartment. I gasped for air knowing that Weston was waiting for me. Leslie had tagged along with Axel and Harry since she’d spent the afternoon with them. I’d checked my outfit three times before I walked toward the front door. I wore an off the shoulder sheer cream top with short black shorts. My favorite strappy black sandals were laced around my ankles, giving me the extra three inches I desperately needed to make my legs look leaner and longer in the short shorts. I highlighted my eyes with earth tones to match my top. My hair was pinned to one side so my shoulder was bared.

Taking my clutch from the coffee table, I yanked the door back and was greeted by his stormy eyes. I swallowed back my nerves. Weston's hand rubbed along his chin as he stared at me, and my body warmed at his gaze.

“Ready?” I asked when he didn’t speak.

He nodded and I noticed his fist balled under his chin as though he was trying to hold something in. His eyes crawled up my body and the cool night air did nothing to alleviate the rise in my body temperature.

I stepped onto the landing and closed the door behind me. Weston's hand rested on the lower part of my back as he guided me down the cobblestone steps and to his car parked at the curb. His fingers gripped the handle of the passenger side door, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he paused and looked up at me. I watched his tongue slide across his lip before he spoke.

“You’re breathtaking.” I bowed my head and looked aside. Weston's thumb grazed the skin under my chin as he lifted my head. “Stunning. I just wanted to let you know while I still had the courage.”

“Alrighty then,” I whispered, and giggled to break the intense mood we were sharing. How was I supposed to respond to that? I was a pile of mush in his hands.

A dimple appeared on Weston’s cheek as he chuckled in response, and I bit back the urge to lean up and kiss it. “Come on. We don't want to be late.” He pulled open the car door.

Unsure what to say, I gazed out the window while Weston hummed along with the radio. When we were a few blocks away from Rinse, he lowered the radio, “You're quiet tonight.”

I turned toward his gorgeous face. “N-No … I'm just listening to you sing.”

“A pretty girl like you shouldn't stay quiet. Let your heart speak.” Weston’s voice sang to me, his voice smooth and beautiful. This was another reason why I could never be with a musician. Music was a part of me, my happy place. In an argument, all he’d have to do was sing and all would be forgotten.
Forgiven
. You’d think that would be a good thing, right? Unless I was trying to prove a point.

“Now you're just showing off.”

“It's my birthday and I can sing if I want to,” Weston joked as he turned his car into Rinse’s parking lot.

My eyebrows pressed together. “I thought your birthday was tomorrow.”

“It is.”

“Hmm…” Our birthdays were only two days apart.
Why hadn’t I realized that before now?
We were both Capricorns, stubborn and sensitive. A deadly combination.

“What's the hmm for?”

“Nothing.” I smiled before I opened my door for the valet attendant.

Weston met me at the back of the car and extended his arm. I didn't know if it was because I was nervous that I’d be rejected for being underage, or if it was because I was in the arms of Weston, but the butterflies in my stomach wouldn't stop flapping their wings.

I handed my underage driver’s license to the bouncer and prayed I didn't get denied. He shined his flashlight over my license and then looked back at me.

This was it.

“Happy Birthday.” The bouncer handed back my license. “A night early, but I’ll let it slide.” He winked. I retrieved my ID and shoved it back in my clutch.

“Birthday?” Weston asked.

“On the fourteenth.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” I smiled and nodded.

“What are we doing to celebrate?” He held the elevator door open for the people behind us.

My heart fluttered.
He said we.
“I don’t have any plans yet.” I stood behind him as the elevator crowded with people.

“I’ve got you.” He looked back and winked.

The elevator doors closed, and I leaned forward, inhaling Weston’s scent. Through the mixture of cologne and cigarettes, his scent was mesmerizing and consuming. I closed my eyes until we reached the top. Once inside, Weston led me to the group sitting in the VIP section. The place was packed and the music rocked. The rooftop bar had a closed area for dancing and the open area was sectioned off with fire pits and long drapes to keep it private.

I kept a death grip on Weston’s hand as he guided me through the mob and toward the secluded area filled with couches. A bouncer pulled back the velvet robes as we approached. Everyone circled Weston to wish him a happy birthday—including a few girls I had seen hanging on his arm at one time or another. I squeezed between the fake breasts and hot bodies and walked over to the couch where Leslie and Sally sat.

“What are you drinking?” Leslie shouted. She lifted up a bottle of vodka and another of rum.

“Rum and Coke.”

Though it was crowded and the music blared, the white drapes around the VIP section made it possible to hear each other speak. I sat with my back to Weston; I didn’t want him to think he owed me anything by bringing me here.

Leslie handed me my glass and I took a sip. I flipped my hair off my shoulder as an excuse to look back at Weston.
Big mistake.
His arms were draped over his female entourage as he posed for a picture.

I turned away to hide my jealousy and was greeted with Leslie’s puckered lips and raised eyebrows. “You like him,” she mouthed.

“Shut the fuck up,” I mouthed back. The last thing I needed was for Sally or Axel to know. It was bad enough Leslie wouldn't drop the topic until I told her everything. I chugged the rest of my drink and moved over to the bottle of Moet.

M
y feet throbbed from dancing
. Standing in our VIP section with the champagne bottle in hand, I swayed with the bass and ignored the fact that I hadn’t seen Weston since we passed through the velvet ropes. I was bitter, disappointed and pissed for letting myself think that someone like Weston,
a freaking musician
, would stay by my side all night. I danced out my anger; the liquor only added to my hazy mind.

I closed my eyes and swung my hips. A firm pair of hands wrapped around my waist like a glove. “You shouldn’t dance like that unless I’m behind you.”

I twirled to face him, our bodies flush. “I figured you were busy.”

“I was, but now I’m where I want to be.” His eyes were glued to my lips.

I brought the bottle of warm champagne to my lips and took a swig. “Are you having a good birthday?”

“I am now.” He wrapped his hands around my lower back and began to dance.

Weston didn’t leave me, even when Axel, Harry, and a couple of other guys sauntered over and handed him shots. But after an hour of our bodies grinding against one another, I could tell Weston had hit his wall. His movements were sluggish and his eyelids looked heavy. The boys handed him his last shot and I knew he wouldn't be driving us home.

“I don’t drink,” he slurred.

I laughed. “Give me your keys.”

Weston buried his limp hand in his back pocket and yanked out his car keys. “I’m one lucky bastard. The hot chick at the bar is taking me home.”

“I’m not taking you home—a cab is—but I wanted to make sure you didn’t drive.”

The lights flickered on and the music turned off for last call as Axel and Harry helped Weston out of Rinse and toward the cabbie line. I handed Axel Weston’s keys before I hopped in a cab with Leslie. My head rested on the leather seat and I gazed out the window. My mind drifted to Weston’s hands on my body. I wished we had gotten more time together.

I
looked in the mirror
.

Another year older, another milestone reached.

Today was the anniversary of my father’s death, but for once I wouldn’t remember that day. I would let my hair down and let it be about me.

That morning, Leslie had attempted to bake me a cake. After making a complete mess of our kitchen, she shipped me off to get ready. She said that since I’d refused plan anything, she’d taken matters into her own hands. My hair had been blown out for the occasion, my makeup done to perfection by Sally, but I still had no clue where we were going. The only hint I had from Leslie was to wear my most comfortable shoes because we would be dancing.

Leslie wore a tight blue dress paired with killer high nude pumps that made her five inches taller than me. Based on her outfit I dressed in a charcoal lace dress with my all-time favorite shoes.

The doorbell of our miniscule apartment rang. Peeking my head out of my bedroom, I noticed Axel, Pete, and Harry had arrived, followed by Monica and Kate. I gave myself another once over in the mirror and stepped out of my room. Weston had said
we
were going to celebrate, but I hadn’t heard from him.

“Happy Birthday!” Axel shouted, and popped the top off the bottle of champagne he had in his hand. Leslie and I didn’t own flutes, so we distributed red solo cups.

“Thanks for coming out with us tonight, guys,” I said before I took a sip of the bubbly. The fizz tickled my nose. I wished Weston was there. Pushing him out of my head, I faced Leslie. “Where are we going?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t plan it. I was simply the messenger.”

Her expression was puzzled. I opened my mouth to speak, but Axel interrupted in a thick British accent. “Drink up because our chariot awaits.”

We filed out of our apartment, our solo cups in our hands. A stretched limo was parked at the curb. I turned to Leslie. “A limo?”

“Yep, it was Weston who set everything up,” she said with a huge smile on her face.