Hottie Number One beamed a friendly smile, gaze fixed on Jill’s half-exposed chest. “Hello.”
“I’m Jill. And this is my friend, Bristol.” She jerked her head in the general direction of the packed dance floor. “We’re looking for some dance partners.”
“Hmmm…I don’t dance, but my buddy does.” Hottie One nudged the guy next to him. Hottie Two glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Rod, the ladies want to dance.”
Rod gave each of us an up and down look. My skin crawled a little. I hated this place. It was a meat market. It was no wonder every guy Jill had ever met here was a loser. “Sure.” He, in turn, nudged the guy next to him, said something into his ear, and within seconds, Jill and I were being escorted to the dance floor. She was going eagerly. Me, not so much. But afraid I was becoming too much of a wet blanket, I tried to act like I was enjoying myself.
As soon as we stepped onto the dance floor, I regretted it. The guy yanked me against him, shoved a leg between mine and started grinding against me like a male stripper. It was vulgar and nasty and gave me the creeps. I tried to back up a little, but the minute there was a tiny fraction of space between his body and mine, he’d close it again. We were so close I could feel his erection through his clothes. Impressive as it was, I wasn’t in the mood.
When the song ended, I was hugely relieved. “Thanks,” I said.
He scowled. “What? That’s it? One dance?”
“Yes, one dance. What were you expecting?”
“Well, after the way you were dancing, a lot more.”
Me? Me!
“Sorry you got the wrong impression.” I stepped away, shoving between a pair of couples pawing at each other while swaying to the next song that had just started playing. I couldn’t find Jill. She seemed to have vanished.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that she’d done this to me on more than one occasion, I might have been concerned. But she had. Lately, it was almost expected. She’d head outside for some fresh air, and end up in the car, shoving her tongue down some random guy’s throat.
Really, she needed to make some changes.
“Hey, I’m sorry. Come back. Let’s talk about this,” the jerk said. He was following me. A trip to the ladies’ room would take care of that.
I pushed and wiggled and shoved my way to the back hallway where the bathrooms were. Escape was just a few feet away. But then someone caught my wrist. I whirled around, hand raised.
I froze.
Shane.
Shane?
Shane!
“W-what are you doing here?” I stuttered, dropping my hand.
“I’m here with a friend.” His gaze wandered over my face, and I felt myself blushing. “You look great.”
“Thanks.” I fiddled with my hair. A strand was hanging over my face. “Um, so do you.”
“Have a drink with me.”
“Oh…I…”
Shane took my hand in his, and instantly I felt warm all over. All the emotions I’d been shoving aside since I’d seen him last rushed to the surface. I was overwhelmed, unsure what to do. I craved spending time with him, hearing his voice, seeing his face. But I knew I shouldn’t go with him. It was a big mistake. Huge.
I went with him anyway.
I was weak. Frighteningly so.
He led me to a table toward the back of the bar where it wasn’t so hot, or loud, or crowded. He pushed in my chair as I sat then took a seat across from me. With a wave, he somehow managed to summon a waitress. He ordered a bottle of wine then turned his attention back to me.
“So…where’s your friend?” I asked.
He waved his hand toward the dance floor. “She’s out there somewhere.”
She.
My stomach twisted.
She.
“I—I should—“
I started standing, but Shane slapped his hand over mine. “Please, don’t go.”
“Shane, I don’t want to interrupt anything--”
“You aren’t interrupting.”
Why did it make me so freaking happy to hear that? Why? “Of course I am.”
“If I was here with someone, I wouldn’t have asked you to join me,” he stated. “Kayla is a friend. Nothing more.”
The waitress broke through the thick wall of people in front of our table, set the open bottle of wine and glasses down and left.
“Hasn’t it been established that men and women can’t be friends?” I asked as I watched Shane pour the wine.
“By whom?” He handed me the full glass.
Our fingertips brushed. I tried to pretend that the little touch didn’t send a bolt of white hot erotic heat pulsing through my body.
It’s only chemistry. Chemistry means nothing.
I said, “By the authors of movies like, When Harry Met Sally.”
He chuckled. The sound bounced around inside me like the reverberating rumble of thunder echoing off distant buildings. “In this case, it’s not an issue. She’s g*y and she’s the younger sister of a close friend.”
Another close friend.
He continued, “Every now and then, I accompany her on an outing so she can keep up appearances. Her family is very anti-gay.”
“I see.”
“So tell me, how are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good.”
We stared at each other for an awkward moment.
I wanted to fill the silence. I wanted to tell him I dreamed about him every night. I wanted to tell him I missed him even though I didn’t want to.
Instead, I glanced around. “If you’re supposed to be keeping up appearances, maybe you’d better go find your friend and play doting boyfriend.”
He studied me for a moment then nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Okay, then. It was nice seeing you.”
“It was nice seeing you, too.”
Neither of us moved.
“I’d better go find my friend, too,” I said. Could this be any more awkward?
“Sure.”
Neither one of us moved.
“She’s going to be worried,” I explained.
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“And when she finds out I was talking to you, she’ll kill me.”
His smile was so bright and so breathtaking I practically melted. “We definitely don’t want that.”
I stood. “Goodbye, Shane.”
He stood too. “Goodbye.” He jerked his head toward the full glass sitting on the table. “Please, take it.”