Chapter 1 #3
Mom: Some cold water and a cool washcloth. I’m not sure where to find her medicine in all these boxes.
Me: Ugh. I have no idea either. I’ll swing by a drugstore on my way home. Be home in 30.
“I swear that wasn’t a ‘save me’ text, but I do have to leave,” I say, looking up at Dexter as he takes a swig of his new beer.
“That’s a shame; I was enjoying learning about Alis and wanted to hear more about her adventures in Wonderland.”
“Like I said,” I point to myself and let out a breathy chuckle, “boring. I was enjoying getting to know you, too,” I say, looking down at my crossed legs. “Would you —”
“Could I have your number?” he asks, right as I was about to ask if he wanted that very same thing.
“Sure,” I squeak, my face lighting up at his request. Seriously, I have lost all cool. I’m like a puppy — giving my affection freely and looking like I want to hump his leg. Oh God, now I’m thinking about rubbing up against his leg.
Shaking myself out of my ridiculous and perverted thoughts, I ask, “Do you have a pen?”
“You could just plug it into my phone.”
“True,” I laugh, fumbling to take his phone off the bartop in front of him.
“Don’t think you can get in without the passcode,” he quips. Gosh, I am such an idiot. I was doing SO WELL and then Skye screwed up our conversation and I never got the chance to get back into my flirtatious groove before Mom sent me that text.
He puts his hand next to mine on the bartop, sliding the phone away and unlocking it before handing it to me.
“Thanks,” I say, opening his messages. I smirk, regaining my flirtatious momentum and sending myself a text. Let’s see if the man knows his Tolstoy.
Unknown Number: Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women. Namely, Alis.
I push the side button, blacking out the screen so he can’t immediately read the text.
“There you go.” I hand the phone back to him, then turn to see if Skye is anywhere near the edge of the dance floor or if I’m going to have to squeeze through the masses to find my friend.
We stand at the same time, our bodies closer than they have been all night. He’s tall. Like, perfectly tall. At least six feet and all kinds of manly deliciousness.
“Whoa there,” he chuckles, gripping my waist as I adjust to the stupid shoes yet again.
I look up at him, my senses overwhelmed with his scent, the feel of him against me, the sound of the music pumping around us.
One hand still on my waist, Dexter lifts his other hand to my jaw, skimming his thumb over my bottom lip.
“I’d really like to kiss you.”
My brain short circuits. I blink. Blink again. What?
“Alis?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Um, what? I mean, yes. Yes, I’d like that.” I’m a bumbling idiot who can’t keep her shit together for more than a few minutes.
He leans his face down, closer to mine, dropping his thumb from my lip and tilting my chin up with his index finger.
I breathe in. I haven’t been kissed in so long, I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it. And will this be a peck? Tongue involvement? I don’t remember how first kisses work.
My thoughts are cut off as his lips gently press against mine.
His hand on my waist wraps around to the small of my back and he draws me closer to him, deepening the kiss and sliding the tip of his tongue between my lips, coaxing them open.
My tongue meets his and I melt into him, never wanting this kiss to end.
I’m not one for sloppy, mouth fucking, too-much-tongue kisses.
This isn’t that. This kiss is — perfection.
Our lips move in sync like we’ve done this before.
Like a perfectly choreographed dance of lips and tongues and hands and bodies.
My hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck, grazing the loose hairs at the base of his hairline.
Also, I was right. I was SO right. His beard is the perfect length for making out. No wiry hairs tickling my nose. So good. So so so good. I wonder if the inside of my thighs would enjoy his beard this much.
Whoa now. Getting ahead of myself. Simmer down.
He slowly pulls away, pressing his closed lips against mine one more time before whispering, “Goodnight, Alis.”
I swallow, staring up at him with wide eyes that want nothing more than to keep looking at him all night. “Goodnight, Dexter.”
I untangle my hands from around his neck, grazing his shoulder with my nails before pressing my hands to my stomach and looking over my shoulder toward the dance floor.
I glance up at him one last time, smile softly, and then take a few steps away from the bar, looking toward the mess of sweaty bodies to find Skye.
“Oh thank God,” I exhale, seeing Skye laughing at her Kenicki doppelg?nger dance partner as they walk — nay, stumble — toward the bar. The other guy is MIA. Guess he lost interest in sharing?
“Skye!” I yell, hoping she can hear me over the music and her raucous laughter. Thankfully, she does.
“What’s up, babe? Ready to dance?” Hasn’t she had enough dancing for one night? She’s dripping with sweat.
Please don’t hug me. Please don’t hug me.
She hugs me. “This is the BEST night!” She plasters her sweaty cheek against mine.
“Yep. No doubt. But we gotta run,” I tell her, thankful I don’t have to yell since she’s still stuck to my face. She pulls away and I wipe away her sweat, trying not to show how annoyed I am by her current lack of awareness concerning personal space.
“What?! No!” First I had loud Skye, then laughing Skye, and now whiny Skye. This woman gives me whiplash.
“Sunny’s running a fever and Mom can’t find the ibuprofen.”
She drops the moping act, standing up straight and nodding her head once. “Gotcha. Ok, no prob.” Hello, responsible Skye. She turns to her man friend, blows him a kiss, wiggles her fingers goodbye, and starts pulling me through the crowd to the exit.
I stumble after her, thankful she’s holding onto me so I don’t faceplant from the shoes. “That was abrupt.”
She shrugs. “He was fun to dance with, but conversation was not his strong suit.”
“You expected to converse with him out there? Could you even hear each other over the music?”
“Oh yes. And rather than asking my name, he kept moaning and grunting into my ear every time I rubbed my ass against his crotch.”
“Ah, I see. Well at least you know he enjoyed himself.”
“If he didn’t, it’s only because I didn’t slide my hand into his pants and rub him off in the middle of the dance floor.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say, crinkling my face and shaking it side to side. “Dammit, Skye, now I can’t get that image out of my head.”
She laughs. “Stop being such a prude.”
We finally make it to the door, and just before stepping out, I turn to look over my shoulder toward the bar, hoping for one last glance at Dexter before I leave.
He’s there. Right where I left him. Elbow resting on the bar, eyes fixed on me, half smile firmly in place. Goodness gracious he’s beautiful.
Smiling, I turn back to Skye and follow her through the door and into the humid summer night.
I pull out my phone from my clutch and find more than my personally-sent text from Dexter.
Unknown Number: Not one word, not one gesture of yours should I, could I, ever forget.