Chapter 5: Whiplash

Ripley's POV

Katie, Beth, and Sarah took turns filling Ripley in on what she had missed. They reported on where everyone went to college or didn't. They told her who got married and who broke up, who was in jail, and who was still living in town.

"I got the next round," Ripley offered, taking down everyone's request for their next drink.

She started to walk towards the bar when she felt a bolt of lightning down her spine. It wasn't painful. Honestly, it was pleasant. Ripley whirled to see what could have caused the sensation.

The man took up the entire doorway. Tattoos practically dripped down his arms. Muscles rippled in his arms and his legs from what she could tell through the tan work pants. He was broad chested, stubble smattering his square jaw. His green eyes met hers and his face split into a dazzling grin, dimples on full display.

Ripley felt nearly frozen in place as she watched him swagger through the room.

She shook her head to clear it and continued over to the bar.

Ripley placed her order and leaned against the bar, waiting. She watched the bartender prepare the four drinks and bring them over to her.

"You want help carrying those?" a rumbling voice asked from behind her.

Ripley looked over her shoulder to see the man from earlier.

"I've got it under control, thanks," she responded. She didn't need his help. And she didn't like the way her knees and hands shook just looking at him.

The bartender offered Ripley's card back to her, but the man plucked it from her grasp before Ripley could jam it back in her wallet.

"You sure about that..." His eyes flicked to the card. "Miss Juanita Smith?" He cocked an incredulous brow.

Ripley snatched the card and jammed it into her pocket.

"I'm absolutely positive, Mister Mind Your Own Business," she snapped.

Ignoring the rolling chuckle emanating from the stranger, Ripley carried the drinks back to the table.

"Who is that?" Katie hissed.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him?" Ripley retorted.

"Absolutely not. Plus, you're the one he's had his eyes on since he came in," Katie told her.

"Oh, please. He's been in here for, what? Two minutes?" Ripley asked, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"Sure. But he hasn't looked away from you since," Beth answered.

"You have to admit he's gorgeous," Sarah coaxed.

Ripley cast a glance to where the man sat at the bar, sipping a beer.

"Well, yeah, of course, he's gorgeous. But he needs to mind his business better," Ripley spat.

The man put a hand over his mouth, smothering a smile.

Oh, Goddess, could he hear them?

Ripley had a tattoo of the moon, the sun, and all the planets arranged artfully in a line down her spine. A protection sigil was combined into the piece, a beautiful collection of intertwining lines that danced between the planets coming up to kiss the moon.

Her whole spine tingled, the ink feeling alive beneath her skin.

She knew, somehow, that the man was staring at her still, eyes boring into her spine.

Ripley did the best she could to ignore the man and carry on with her conversation. She was thankful to be catching up with friends. It had been years since she had had a girls' night like this. It was a breath of fresh air to be carefree for an evening.

Sure, she was being pursued by a religious fanatic shifter, of whom she knew neither the name nor face.

Sure, there was a strange man staring her down in the bar.

But something about him felt safe, protective, harmless. She had expected her every instinct to be on edge, but she wasn't. She was unbothered, actually, just curious and slightly annoyed.

Katie and Beth got up to dance. The song was loud with pounding bass. Ripley didn't recognize it, but she liked the sound of it.

"What's stopping you from going over there and asking that man to go home with you?" Sarah asked. She had a teasing smile on her face, but her tone was serious.

Ripley rested her chin in her hand, elbow propped on the table.

"You remember Cory Smith?" Ripley asked.

"Sure. You guys were practically inseparable," Sarah shrugged.

"I was actually leaving a date with him when I ran into you," Ripley admitted.

Sarah gave a disinterested hum.

"What?" Ripley inquired.

"I never thought you guys would actually date," Sarah responded, shrugging again.

"How come?" Ripley asked. This was becoming an interrogation.

She'd been on her own for so long now, maybe true friendship felt stifling. Ripley sorted through her feelings quickly. She trusted Sarah. She had been a voice of reason all throughout high school, she was being one now.

"I don't know, he just kind of always weirded me out. I don't trust something about him. He seems...slippery." Sarah sipped her ice water and sat it back down emphatically.

"Slippery?"

"Yeah. He avoids questions, he disappears for weeks or months on end, he's just a strange guy. I've known him since middle school and I never quite got a read on him."

Ripley studied Sarah's face. Her eyes were a shade of brown so dark they were almost black. Her dark eyes complimented her raven black hair. Ripley had always been jealous of the rich brown of her skin.

She found no malice in Sarah's expression, though, just concern.

"I'll keep that in mind," Ripley replied genuinely. She attempted to push on the tall brick walls she had built around herself. They seemed to shift under her weight. Sarah was kind. She was thoughtful. She noticed things that others didn't.

Ripley determined to keep Sarah's notes in the back of her mind.

A red haired man came up to the table and asked Ripley to dance. She cast an inquiring glance to Sarah. Sarah waved an encouraging hand. Ripley took the man's hand and swept out to the dance floor.

He wasn't a particularly skilled dancer. He stepped on Ripley's toes at least three different times and never even noticed. He tripped on something that must have been invisible because Ripley couldn't see what had caused him to stumble. He struggled to move in time with the music. She hoped for his sake he was drunk, though he only smelled a little like beer.

When the song ended, another man came to ask her to dance, and Ripley went on that way for several dances, trying not to trip over different men's boots as they tromped across the dance floor.

Finally, she decided to take a break. She wanted a few sips of the Dr. Pepper waiting on her back at the table.

Sarah smiled at her and watched as Katie and Beth continued to twist and writhe on the dance floor.

Ripley took a long sip from her drink.

"You don't want to dance?" she asked Sarah.

"I've never been much of a dancer," Sarah replied. "I like to keep an eye on the drinks."

"Thank you for that, by the way," Ripley told her.

Ripley watched the hulking form of the man who had been watching her all night get up from his seat at the bar.

Then, she watched him make his way over to her.

"It's been painful to watch you struggle with those fools," he told her, gesturing over his shoulder.

Ripley smirked at him. "And I supposed you're a very talented dancer?"

"All I'm saying is that if you ever get tired of men with two left feet, I'll be right over there, waiting on my turn." He nodded towards the corner of the bar where he had been nursing a beer all night.

"No need to wait, she'll go with you now," Sarah told him.

Ripley scoffed and scowled at her friend.

"Go on," Sarah offered, shooing her towards the floor.

The man held out his hand.

Ripley begrudgingly took it.

She could have said no.

But something stopped her from declining.

"My name is Jake," he offered, wrapping a hand around her waist.

Ripley had to admit he was actually a pretty good dancer as he turned her to the music.

"Ripley," she admitted.

"I knew you didn't look like a Juanita," he laughed.

"And why not? Anyone can be a Juanita," Ripley scolded.

"Just a hunch," he answered with a shrug.

Ripley rolled her eyes dramatically but couldn't stop a half smile from pulling at her lips.

"New to town?" Jake asked her.

"No. Just coming back after being gone awhile," Ripley told him.

"Hmm. And how long have you been gone?"

"What is this, a criminal investigation?" Ripley taunted.

"Nah, that's for my day job," Jake responded.

Ripley furrowed her brow.

"I'm a cop," he told her like she was silly for not knowing already.

Now, it was Ripley's turn to give a disgruntled hum.

"Cute," was all she said.

"What do you do?" he asked.

"None of your business," she retorted. "What's it matter anyway? The song is ending."

"I was hoping you'd want to dance to the next one, too," he admitted.

Ripley rolled her eyes again but tipped her chin in agreement.

She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be dancing with this handsome stranger. She had just left a date with Cory, the man she had been pining after for years. And yet, here she was in the arms of a stranger who made her feel like she hung the moon.

He watched her like she was a precious ballerina in a vintage music box. He held her gently, yet firmly, like a freshly retrieved treasure. He spoke to her gently, he hung on every word she said.

It was disgusting.

Or it should be.

She didn't know him, and she was entertaining him like she hadn't promised to try a relationship out with Cory just hours ago.

Ripley determined she was being ridiculous. She would go home alone tonight, forget that this Jake ever existed, and allow herself to fall in love with Cory the way she had always dreamed.

Right?