Chapter 6 #2
The once-habitual feelings of familiarity and the sentiments of comfort, safety, and serenity were now laced with confusion, uncertainty, and anticipation.
Most troubling was how good he felt, and how my body curved and bent and molded to his without my consent.
These sensations reminded me of the last time we’d held each other.
These feelings, and the fact that he would never return the sentiments, were why I’d left him.
Ending notes of the song filtered through the speakers, but I heard nothing. I was immersed in Nico quicksand and sinking deeper with every beat of his heart as it thudded against me with masculine urgency. I blinked against a perplexing stinging in my eyes.
Then, Beyonce sang, “I’m feelin’ sexy,” and I was promptly yanked out of my vortex of warm and fuzzy Nico quicksand.
There were a number of contributing factors to my rude awakening, and they occurred all at once:
The tempo of the music escalated from slowmo True to the substantively more upbeat Naughty Girl.
Three women appeared out of nowhere—or rather, what felt like nowhere in that moment—and surrounded us.
Two of the women grabbed Nico’s arms.
One of the women said very loudly and very close to my ear, “Come on, Nico–we want to dance!”
Nico, looking a bit stunned, turned toward the very loud woman, and I was forced to step back.
The group of three was hip gyrating, arm waving, and hair flinging with wild abandon.
I lifted my own arms to protect against incidental bodily injury and glanced around the room.
I was startled back to reality when I realized that Nico and I were in a room full of people.
For the past several minutes, it had seemed as though he and I were alone.
I scanned the perimeter of the dance floor looking for Sandra.
My eyes met those of a tall, brown-haired man that I didn’t recognize; he was watching me openly.
Disconcerted, I glanced to his left and met the gaze of a medium-sized woman—also watching me.
It was at that point I realized everyone in the room who was not currently dancing—and even some who were—was blatantly watching me.
It didn’t seem to occur to them that openly watching a person was strange.
Someone pinched my elbow and I turned to find Sandra at my side. She was shaking her booty. Next to her was a man I almost recognized, and he was booty-shaking with the best of them. She flung a toothy smile at my frowning face and leaned into my ear.
“Hey—you remember this guy?” Sandra indicated with her thumb toward her dance partner. “He said you two were lab partners in biology.”
I brought the tall semi-stranger back into focus, and once my brain started working again, I was surprised that I could confirm he was indeed Micah Becker. “Yes—oh, my gosh, hey, Micah—nice to see you.”
I extended my hand to him and he gave me a lopsided grin. He accepted my hand and—instead of shaking it—he twirled me. “Elizabeth, it’s so good to see you—I didn’t recognize you until Sandra told me who you were.”
“Oh—” I stumbled through the twirl then, once I was certain I wouldn’t trip, and then I gave his hand a firm shake and released it. “Good to see you, too! You look a lot different…also.”
I didn’t really remember much about Micah because we’d barely spoken during high school.
He’d been even quieter than I was. I remembered that he wore flannel shirts every day, with jeans and Doc Martens.
His hair had been a buzz cut in high school, and his blue eyes had always been hidden behind large glasses.
Now his black hair was stylishly cut, his blue eyes were no longer concealed, and he stood a good six inches taller.
The dress shirt he wore, although not as fine as Nico’s, clearly signaled that he had a decent body.
In fact, I could barely see the seventeen-year-old kid in the booty-shaking man before me.
“Dance, girl.” Sandra bumped her hip against mine and smiled at Micah. “Do you think you can handle both of us?”
Micah turned his smiling blue eyes to Sandra. “No—I’m pretty sure I can’t, but I’d like to try.”
My mouth dropped open. Who is this person?
This was not the Micah I knew. This Micah was confident and sorta handsome. It’s amazing what ten years and nice clothes can do for a person.
Or, maybe more precisely, it’s amazing what maturity and adulthood can do for a person.
Sandra threw her head back in laughter and grabbed my hand as she encouraged me to dance. I complied, a little dazed at first, still feeling lingering gazes from the crowd. I kept my eyes on Sandra and Micah and the floor, because every time I glanced around the room, I found people watching me.
However, without any conscious intent to do so, my gaze eventually sought Nico.
He was still surrounded on all sides by women wielding sharpened elbows.
Instead of just the three, he’d amassed six or seven, and he was smiling at them, all of them.
But it didn’t look like a welcoming smile; it looked like a beleaguered, pacifying smile.
They had him cornered on one side of the dance floor, and I noticed his movements were somewhat restricted. The pack of she-wolves appeared to be pressing in on his personal space with increased audaciousness. Their slutty one-up(wo)manship made me inwardly cringe and outwardly chuckle.
Micah stepped into my line of sight and grinned at me; I grinned back. He reached for my hands and I allowed him to turn my back to his front, with Sandra behind him. We made a Sandra, Micah, Elizabeth sandwich.
He was a pretty good dancer—not as good as Nico, but still decent—and I permitted him to place a hand on my hip as we continued our booty-shaking good time. We turned and I was facing Micah’s back, Sandra at his front, which—once again—allowed me a pretty good view of Nico’s harem.
I expected to get another chuckle from the she-wolf antics but instead felt a bolt of fury. Nico was now surrounded by at least fifteen women, two of whom were pulling his shirt from his pants; he’d grabbed their wrists. He was no longer smiling. He did not look amused.
Before I fully comprehended my intent, I was across the dance floor like a shot. I used no subtlety to push through the crowd of crazed women. I innately know that I could (wo)manhandle these females in a way that he could not —with hair pulling and scratching and smacking and eye poking.
There were a few exclamations of “Hey!” and “Ow!” and “What the…?” and “My foot!” and “That’s my eye!”
I ignored their screechy protests, but—despite my aggressive attempts—an impenetrable barrier remained.
Through the crush of bodies, I could see that more women had placed their hands on him, squeezing his bottom and grabbing his tie.
They’d tugged his jacket back by the collar in an attempt to pull it off.
The dark frown marring his features mirrored my own.
“Get the hell off of him!” Frustration made my hands shake.
Only one woman seemed to hear my shouted command, and she merely smirked at me.
I glanced around the room expecting to see other outraged faces and was astonished to find—among those who were paying attention to the spectacle—only expressions of amusement.
One person even had his phone out and was apparently either recording or taking pictures.
I thought about asking Sandra and Micah for help, but before I could turn, I witnessed one of the women snake her hand around and try to grab Nico in the crotch.
His dark frown turned furious. He looked murderous.
I gasped. I struggled to find words that would make them stop before he used physical violence on them, and chaos descended.
I needed to do something shocking, something no one could ignore. I could only think of one thing.
I found the nearest chair, climbed on top, and yelled at the top of my lungs, “THE CHILD IS YOURS!”
Everything stopped.
Well, the music continued, but everything else stopped. Everyone was looking at me, including the pile of grabby females—and Nico.
I took a deep breath. His gaze tangled with mine, and I saw the precise moment that he comprehended my words. Before I lost the crowd’s attention, I climbed from the chair and charged through the circle of still stunned women.
I grasped Nico’s wrist and pulled him through the parted red lipstick sea.
I marched him off the dance floor. He gently slid his wrist out of my grasp then enclosed my hand in his.
I didn’t know where to go. He must have sensed my hesitation because he soon took the lead, and his pace immediately quickened.
We were nearly running when he pushed through the double doors that led outside. Darkness and cold wind greeted us. My teeth chattered, but I didn’t know if it was from the cold or the aftereffect of adrenaline from my outburst.
His long steps carried us to the football stadium. Nico easily found the spot where we could squeeze through. The passage led to the hollow space beneath the bleachers, and the wind died as we entered the manmade cavern. Soda cups, water bottles, and napkins littered the dirt.
Nico paused just inside and glanced at me.
He withdrew his hand, slipped off his jacket, and placed it over my shoulders.
I watched him as he did this, his face illuminated only by horizontal bands of light shining through the bleachers from the full moon and the quilt of stars overhead.
His eyes searched mine as he tugged the collar of his jacket closed around me and we stood in silence, staring at each other.
He looked expectant, tense, agitated.
His gaze drifted to my lips. He licked his.
The small movement made my heart race, and I broke the silence with a rush of words. “God—that was crazy! Those women were completely crazy.” For no reason at all, I hit him on his shoulder. “Why don’t you have security guards?”
“Elizabeth.” He swallowed the end of my name. “Do you…did we…do you have something to tell me?”