Chapter 8
“Fuck, I needed this.” Gia smiles, another shot of tequila graciously going down her throat like water. I tapped out after the third, the tequila’s warmth coating my throat and stomach minutes after we finished our shots.
I’m not a big drinker—never have been so, naturally, I’m a lightweight. I’d rather indulge in a different substance, one that is at fault for my crazy snack drawer that I raid a few nights a week on the side of my bed.
“As an official single man,” Sam smiles, draping both arms across me and Gia’s shoulders. “So did I.”
I raise my eyebrows, angling my head slightly. “You dumped Greg?”
Sam rolls his blue eyes, leaning his head against mine. He pre-gamed with Gia before we got here, while I took an inconsiderable amount of time getting ready. None of my outfits felt comfortable, and my anxiety picked at every insecurity I had until I settled on a baby blue halter top and baggy black jeans taken straight from the nineties. I deemed this outfit comfortable, but both Sam and Gia protested against another outfit change, so I was stuck with it.
“Yeah, I dumped him yesterday.”
“Sorry, Sammy,” Gia pouts, leaning her head on his opposite side. “We’ll find you a new man.”
“No need,” Sam replies, standing upright. “I’m going to go solo for a while. Try figuring my shit out.”
She nods in approval, stepping forward to grab another shot placed on our end of the bar, holding it up in cheers. “Amen to that, sister!” she smirks, handing one to me before Sam reaches for his.
“To the single ladies!” Gia grins, her smile outstretching across her entire face. Sam cheers before clinking his glass against both of ours and throwing it back. My face scrunches in both disgust and hesitation before following my friend’s gesture, grimacing after it goes down. My eyes nearly cross at the alcohol rushing to my head, but I shake it away. “Let’s go dance!” Gia smiles, grabbing my wrist and tugging before I have a chance to say no. I hate dancing. My limbs are awkward, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my body, but my biggest fear is disappointing my best friend, so I oblige.
Sweaty bodies are pressed against each other, grinding to the beat of the song playing overhead. My wide eyes find Gia’s, who miraculously found a handsome dance partner within minutes of being on the floor. Her arms wrap around his neck as he buries his face in the crook of her shoulder, and as she looks my way, she winks. I chuckle to myself, about to step back towards the bar to ease some of my anxiety, when a warm hand rests against the waistband of my jeans and the skin peeking from my crop top, tugging me to the floor without so much a word. My mouth pops open in protest, my heart hammering in my throat as another hand rests on my opposite hip. Glancing over my shoulder, I’m only able to see the outline of his hair. He’s tall, not entirely towering over me, but hard to put a face to him with our height difference. He slowly moves to the beat, assuming I’ll follow along, but I quickly shake my head.
“I can’t—I don’t know how to dance,” I say quietly as if I’m expecting he’ll be able to hear me over the music pumping around us.
Without moving his hands from their place on my body, he leans his head down, sandy blonde hair dropping in front of his head as sandalwood wafts in the air around us. “What did you say?”
His voice is deep enough to vibrate against my back, which makes my heart pound harder. I angle my face towards his, rearing back slightly when I realize my lips graze against his cheek. “I don’t know how to dance.”
A soft rumble vibrates from his chest against my back, and he slowly lifts his head. His lips rest against the shell of my ear, his breath fanning across my causes goosebumps to scatter up my arms instantly.
“I’ll teach you,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy. My knees threaten to buckle, the waves of uncertainty coiling tightly through my body. “Is that okay?” he asks against me after a moment, rubbing small circles on either side of my hips. I lean into the stranger, nodding once. His lips curve against my ear, and I suppress a shudder.
“First,” he begins with the same huskiness in his voice. “We need to sway to the beat of the music.” His hands slowly guide my hips side by side, the movement stiff coming from me. Heat floods my cheeks, and I shake my head, his hands stalling on my hips.
“It’s just me and you right now,” he says, resuming guiding my hips. “Don’t worry about anybody else. We’re just moving to the beat.”
I angle my head again. “What if I look dumb?”
“You won’t and don’t,” he replies confidently, his lips still pressed against my head. “We’re just swaying to the beat.”
Slowly, at the pace of a snail, my hips follow the movements of his hands, the smile blooming against his lips again. “Good, that’s really good.”
The praise causes a warmth to spread through me, and I’m suddenly thankful that I don’t know what this guy looks like. It wouldn’t matter either way, but there’s a confidence in him that would make me crumble if he was attractive.
“Now,” he says, a raspiness to his voice as he takes a step closer, my ass pressing into him. “I’m going to follow you.”
My back stiffens, unease weaving through my sternum. “I–I’ve never—“
“It’s okay,” he reassures calmly. “I’m not going to judge you. You’re doing so good.”
A small smile crests on my mouth. “Can I least look at you if you’re going to let me rub my ass against you?”
He smirks, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as his hand moves from my hip to wrap around my ribcage. “I worry that will only make you more nervous. After this dance, I’ll introduce myself if you decide I’m not a terrible partner.”
I nod, the smile still pulling at my mouth despite his cockiness. “Deal.”
Seemingly pleased with this, the hand on my ribcage squeezes gently before resting against my lower stomach. I tense briefly, but he makes no mention of it, instead allowing him to press me further into him.
“Keep moving your hips like I taught you,” he says lazily. “I’m going to follow you.”
The breath stalls in my throat, and I angle my head again. “What do I do with my hands?”
He drops his hands to roam up my arms, gently pulling them up to wrap around the back of his head. My fingers grasp the bottom strands of his hair, causing his chest to press flush against my back. Goosebumps scatter up my arms, and butterflies swarm in my stomach, but I continue moving my hips like he told me. There’s something about being in this stranger’s hold that calms me. Like he truly means he won’t judge my poor dancing skills. Something about his blind trust makes me feel like I can give it to him, even if it is only dancing.
His forehead rests against my shoulder, pressing what feels like a soft kiss against the crook of my neck before his hips sway with mine, the speed increasing to match the beat of the music. “Good,” he rasps again. “You’re doing so good.”
We’re lost in the moment—I’m lost in sandalwood and the small praises he continually whispers in my ear that I finally let myself go. Our bodies are in sync with the beat and each other, and I’ve managed to tune out everything around us. Strong hands roam the entirety of my torso in a way that’s appropriate for being in public yet makes my skin flush hot. My hips now move on their own accord and grind into the hardened length pressed against my lower back.
My fingers tug gently on the back of his hair, causing another groan to rumble from his chest before pressing an open-mouthed kiss against the column of my neck.
“Fuck,” he murmurs against my skin. “You’re so beautiful.”
“You don’t even know what I look like,” I say over the music, the smile spreading across my face. He shrugs casually, his hands finding solace against the bare skin peeking out from my crop top.
“I don’t need to know what you look like to know you’re a masterpiece,” he says against my ear again, a small kiss pressed there. “I just know.”
The music fades into something softer, a beat I haven’t heard before, and I seize the opportunity despite the nerves working their way up my throat. I slowly turn around with anticipation over finally meeting my dance partner, the nerves pooling in my gut. The smile drops from my face when I’m met with glassy emerald eyes, shock flickering across his gaze.
“Mr. Moore?”