11. Bailey #2
Four drinks in and I find myself laughing at Liam’s jokes and arguing about song lyrics with Meg.
It feels good—I don’t give a shit who sees my nipples.
“Come on, guys. Let’s dance.” Nat gets up from the table and the three of us follow her into the madness. She wades through the crowd until finally stopping somewhere in the middle of the dance floor.
Colorful lights pulse to the beat of the music, fog lingers in the air accentuating the laser beams that undulate in time with the melody.
I brought my fifth drink with me, carrying it high above my head so no one accidentally knocks into me and wastes a perfectly good ten bucks. Spilling my drink would suck, but spilling it on someone else is diabolical. My cheeks heat at the memory of that night. His lips on mine. My hands on him.
I wince when I feel my dick begin to thicken, my jeans entirely too tight to hide it.
I block all thoughts of his lips and concentrate on the music. On Nat’s smile and Liam’s goofy dance moves. Meg and Nat are great dancers, relaxed and in their element.
Nat laughs at Liam as he does the lawnmower, his movements exaggerated and outrageous.
I can’t help the smile that splits my face as I shake my head with a laugh.
A Skrillex mix I haven’t heard in years comes on and I forget all my insecurities. Fuck it all. Fuck school, all my assignments, and any worries about the future.
Time becomes non-existent. No longer a measurement to be reckoned with.
A smile stretches across my face as I let go.
Another barrage of those beautiful brown eyes. Flecks of gold so small you’d miss them if you weren’t paying attention.
I dance freely as I allow myself to relive those breath-taking minutes. Those stolen seconds that changed who I am. His wide shoulders and firm chest pressed against mine. Those wondering eyes and glistening lips—swollen after my kisses.
We dance for a few songs before I start to notice how thick the air is. How hard it is to breathe.
It’s suddenly too loud in here—the volume catching up to me. The heat radiating off the sea of bodies is now more than I can handle.
That old familiar feeling makes its way up and into my throat, choking off my air and my sanity.
Breathe, Bailey.
“Nat, I need some air,” I manage. “Too hot. I’ll be right back. I’ve got my phone on me.”
“Okay, babe. Be careful.”
I stumble through the crowd, desperate for relief. My entire body is a livewire and this place is high voltage.
Air.
I need air.
The room spins, the walls gaining ground as they threaten to close in on me. Faces blur as I keep pushing through. Looking for an exit sign.
I see the glorious red glow ahead and I quicken my pace. Resolve now restored, I force my breathing to slow, and beg my heart rate to follow suit.
I gasp in relief when I reach the door and the cool, crisp night air caresses me. The heavy metal door slams behind me as I lean against the brick wall, inhaling deeply.
Goddamn, nothing like a panic attack in the middle of a dance floor.
Sounds like a shitty pop song.
I take a few heavy steps away from the door, finding a place with less glow from the streetlights. More relaxed in the darkness, I lean my head back against the cool wall and then slowly sit down, resting my arms on my knees and closing my eyes for a beat.
Better. So much better.
I glance around the alleyway, making sure no one else is out here to witness my unraveling.
I look to the night sky. It’s beautiful, only a few clouds between me and a picturesque blanket of stars.
My skin no longer feels like it’s on fire, the night air soothing my unease with each inhale. It’s embarrassing to have to jet out of somewhere like I just shit my pants, but I know Nat and Liam understand. They know I can get overwhelmed, even with a good buzz.
I jump when the door swings open, crashing against the exterior wall. Two figures emerge, they’re blurry and I’m not sure if it’s the booze or the fact that I left my glasses at home. Probably both.
“Thanks, I needed a smoke and some fresh air,” one of them says.
“That’s quite the conundrum, don’t you think?” the other answers.
“Fuck off, man,” the bigger of the two says before playfully hitting the funny one in the arm.
I squint, trying to get a better view, certain neither of them has noticed me.
Oh shit.
It’s him.
It’s fucking Oliver.
My palms start sweating again. How the hell will I explain what I’m doing out here alone? I don’t even smoke.
Oh, nothing, just had a panic attack in the middle of the dance floor and literally bolted through the crowd to get some fresh air.
God help me.
They step further under the warm glow of the streetlight and my breath catches.
He’s wearing wings. He’s dressed like a runway model and he’s wearing fucking angel wings.
Victor’s Secret?
I am unwell.
Why is that so fucking hot?
What is he doing to me?
Why is my dick—once again—betraying me?
I glance down at it like it’s going to explain itself and then cover my mouth to stifle a laugh.
Jay stomps out his cigarette.
“You ready?”
“Nah, I’m going to cool off for a few. It’s hot as hell in there. I’ll find you.” Oliver explains.
He’s not going back inside?
Shit.
“Alright man, see ya in a few.”
The door shuts behind Jay almost as loud as my heart slams behind my ribcage.
Oliver leans back against the building, staring straight ahead.
“You hiding from someone?” His tone is smooth, teasing.
“Wha—what?” I mutter.
“You thought I didn’t see you?” He huffs a quiet laugh. “I fucking felt you as soon as the door closed. There’s no way I’d miss you, green eyes.”
Heat crawls up my neck. Thank fuck for the dark.
“I—uh—I thought neither of you noticed me,” I say quietly. My voice barely cutting through the pounding in my ears.
“Well,” he says, pushing off the wall and sauntering toward me, “looks like tonight’s working in my favor.” He pops a sucker into his mouth and grins, “The stars are aligned,” he gestures toward the sky.
I swallow thickly. The air around me shifts as he gets closer. It’s electric, exciting, but difficult to navigate.
“Why’s that?”
He stops in front of me and holds out his hand.
It should feel like a simple gesture.
It doesn’t.
It’s more than that.
It’s more than an offering to help me stand.
It’s something bigger.
A gift I’m not sure I’m willing to accept.
Jesus, he’s unreal. Broad shoulders cut sharp under his metallic tank. His hair is pulled back with two strands loose on either side of his face. Dark eyeliner heavier than usual. Glitter catching along his cheekbones, dragging gold from his eyes every time he moves. And those goddamn wings.
It’s almost too much to take in.
Not of this world.
Intimidating.
Ethereal.
Beautiful.
My pulse thunders in my chest.
Do something.
I wipe my palm on my jeans, never breaking eye contact.
And then my hand reaches out to him of its own accord.
Without my permission.
He takes my hand in his, his grip warm and certain, and a smile stretches across his beautiful face.
His grip tightens, as if he’s waiting to see if I pull away.
His eyes ask questions I’m not ready to answer.
But my body is.
My body answers when I can’t, and before I know it, I’m on my feet, standing in front of him.
I sway slightly and his hand finds me, steadying, grounding. The warmth of it radiates from my hip to my chest.
He pops the sucker from his mouth, and I don’t miss the way it skates across his lips.
“You asked why I felt tonight was in my favor.”