I've never been one for clubs. I think they're full of drinkers, and smokers, and all you do is really go there to have one night stands with random people. I mean, it wasn't like I would not go if my friend asked me to, but I wouldn't just go because I felt like dancing. I didn' exactly hate them, but- you get what I' saying, right?
But this night was my twenty-third birthday. I wanted to have fun, and my friends suggested this club, "The Garden of Eden" I decided to go. I mean, why not? It was my fucking birthday, and I was twenty-three. Pretty soon I'd be thirty, and I would have regretted not going to the club when I could have.
I had dressed in a beautiful black top, and a short skirt. I looked sexy as hell. I applied some makeup, did my hair, and pulled on a pair of black pumps, and I was out the door.
My best friend, Gina had been the one to suggest the club, Davis, She had said,"This will be fun! We can dance all night, and meet hot guys, and give them wrong numbers.I had just laughed, but agreed.
Gina was the type of girl that was, I don't know, one of those girls that you just knew had a story. We'd grown up best friends, ever since we were babies. Gina was the most popular girl in school. I was popular too, but more less noticed. Gina could be mean, but she was also completely sweet. She was naturally blonde. Her hair was long, and straight, exactly like Barbie's. Her eyes were blue and big. She was very beautiful, and she wasn't like a dumb blonde either, which I loved. But she did like to pretend.
Anyway, that night in Los Angeles, it was warm, which was weird. But I hadn't noticed, I was too busy having fun. We had gone into the club, and I had immediately sat down by the bar. A guy offered me a drink, and I shrugged. "It's your money." He chuckled, and bought me the drink.
His name was Jared, and he was pretty hot. But when he had to leave, and he asked me for my number, I still wrote down the wrong one. It was fun, actually. I had turned to the bartender, who had grinned at me. He was pretty hot too. Must have been my night.
He'd heard me talking to Jared, and had learned it was my birthday. I had been looking out at the people in the club, when he'd tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned, he handed me a drink. I looked at him, confused. He grinned. "It's on the house. Happy birthday, beautiful." He waved me off, but not before I took the plastic red cup, sipping it carefully.
I was dancing with random people, and spotted my friends dancing with other guys. Gina, and Amber had been the ones to take me to the club. I was going to thank them, really. But then I saw him. I didn't recognize him for being famous or whatever. But standing there, in the middle of the dance floor, I saw the sexiest man I'd ever seen before in my life.
He was sitting next to two guys. One was kind of short looking, with slightly curly hair and a bored look on his face. The other was a huge African-American dude, who could probably kill me with his thumb. He had a baseball cap pulled over, what I would imagine, was short hair. He was dressed in jeans and a pull-over, but I didn't know what it was that attracted me to him. He was tapping his knee to whatever song was playing.
I didn't want it to seem obvious that I was looking at him, so I just sort of started dancing. But I glanced at him once or twice while I was doing this. Then we locked eyes. It was just for about ten seconds, but before I knew it, he was standing up, walking towards me.
At first I thought he was just making his was towards the dance floor because, well, he wanted to dance. But I didn't think he would want to dance with me. Yet, he was walking straight towards me. I just kept dancing. Pretty soon, he'd reached out, putting his hands on my hips, and he'd started dancing too. I was really liking it too. We danced for about three songs, and I could see his blue eyes staring at me from underneath his baseball cap.
After the final song ended, he gestured towards the bar, and I nodded my head. He grabbed my hand, and we made our way to the bar. When the bartended saw me he smirked. "Back so soon, birthday girl?" I blushed, but the un-named man I was with turned to me, looking amused.
"It's your birthday?" He had a slight southern twang, but his voice was just as sexy as he was.
I nodded my head.
"How old are you?"
"I just turned twenty-three." He seemed to like the sound of my voice. It was the first time he'd heard it, and I was basically yelling over all the music, but he sort of lit up by hearing it. I know that sounds kind of weird, you had to be there.
"I'm Justin." He bowed his head slightly, as if I should know him. He did seem kind of familiar, but I just didn't seem to remember who he was. Noticing this, he took off the baseball cap. I was right, his head was indeed short. Not buzz-cut short, but just kind of short. I still didn't recognize him.
"I'm Davis." Maybe he knew who I was - not. I wasn't famous. My father sort of was, but you wouldn't like, know who he was if I said his name.
"That's a beautiful name." He said to me, as the bartended handed us our drinks. I felt my stomach tingle, like I had butterflies. I suddenly wanted to jump up and do a back flip. This guy had me going.
He led me to where he had been sitting before, only now it was just us. The big dude was around, just not in our faces, right by us. I took a sip of my drink, and made a face at whatever it was. He chuckled. “You don’t like?” I shrugged.
"So, you really don't know who I am?" He asked suddenly, taking me by surprise. And suddenly it hit me. He could tell too, and he looked a bit worried. Would I suddenly jump up attacking him?
I smirked. "Justin Timberlake." I almost laughed. But I was silent. He looked at me, expecting one of two reactions. I was either going to attack him and tell him I was obsessed, or I would walk away, claiming he was a boy-band guy.
But I did neither. So he let the subject drop. "Do you come here often?"
I shook my head. I had come here once or twice, but if he was here more often, then I suddenly loved clubs. "I just came with a couple of my friends. They wanted to throw me a little party, but they ditched me."
He smiled, "I can't say I'm not glad."
I looked up at him, smiling. He thought I was pretty, I could tell. I wasn't like completely shocked, because it's not like I think I'm ugly or anything.
"Your eyes," he whispered, yet I could hear him over the music, "They're breathtaking."
It's all in the black eyeliner, babe. I wondered if he said this to every girl he hooked up with. Not that I was planning on hooking up with him.
We soon got comfortable with each other, and he was talking to me about his friend that had come with him, Trace. His lips, pouty and red, were perfect. I couldn't help but stare at them as he explained whatever he was explaining.
Suddenly, he stopped, noticing my wandering eyes. But he didn't think I thought they were sexy or anything. He brought his hand to his mouth, I could tell he felt like an idiot. "Is there something on my mouth?" He asked nervously. I was sort of tipsy, so I was more confident then usual. I leaned closer. "There could be."
He looked somewhat confused, but asked what anyway.
"Mine." I whispered seductively.
And before I knew it, his lips had crashed down on mine. He pulled me closer into him, but I was leaning in as far as I could go without sitting on the table, so he got off his stool, and moved himself closer to me.
I could say our making out lasted a good ten minutes for sure. When he pulled away, he trailed a few kissed down my neck, before straightening up to look at me. He was extremely tall compared to my five foot five and a half, at least six foot three. "We could go back to my place." He offered me.
But I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I'm not like that."
He nodded, and suddenly, I think he liked me more. "Good." He whispered, kissing my lips again.
I think what made him like me was the fact that I wasn't into his "famous" bullshit. Everyone was equal, whether you worked at Burger King, or you were a pop star.
We danced for a little while, occasionally kissing, before I felt Gina behind me, tapping my back.
I turned to her, quite annoyed. "Yes, Regina. Can I help you?" "Come on, Davis. It's late, let's go home!" She whined. This is what I was saying about her pretending to be stupid, and not taking a hint. I looked back at Justin, who obviously didn't want me to leave.
"I'm sorry." I murmured.
He nodded, kissing my lips softly, and asking his big buddy, who I had figured was a bodyguard, for a pen. He gave me the pen, and put his hand out. Haha, Justin Timberlake wanted me to give him my phone number. Interesting.
I grinned, and wrote my real number on his palm. He kissed me once more before we parted.
I never expected to hear from him again.
After all, he was a famous popstar.
Chapter 2
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