3. Vivian #5
It’s confidence; it’s desire; it’s recognition. My heart comprehends it, but my brain needs it to make sense. This pull between us is so strong that it terrifies me.
Swallowing, I summon an inner confidence I don’t feel as I meet the challenge in his eyes. Impossibly, his pupils darken even more as I’m held in his trance. I couldn’t look away if I tried, the force is so strong. Heat, desire, and—something more—radiate from him.
He’s looking at me like he’s found the finish line. The hero winning his prize. Odysseus coming home to Penelope.
He looks at me like he’s going to take me. Claim me.
This is insane. Not possible. People don’t just claim people. Right?
His eyes bore into mine, piercing and steady. He’s holding me without a single touch. He could climb right inside my head and make himself at home, and I wouldn’t say no.
I want more.
I want—no, need—to get closer to him. Close enough to share his breath. I want to run my hands through that thick hair, want to feel his hands caress my skin, want to see exactly what color his eyes are, and those lips… I want to know how they feel against mine.
I want to hear his voice.
I blink once, twice, and swallow, my mouth suddenly dry as heat rushes down to my core.
My hot stranger raises his bottle and tilts it languidly in my direction, his eyes never leaving mine for a second. Then he brings it to those sultry lips for a swallow, silently toasting me across the sea of people.
I stand frozen. Did he… did he really just do that? I take a quick glance at my surroundings. No other girl is even looking in his direction. Nope, that acknowledgement was just for me. Turning back to face him, he nods slowly. As if I needed any more confirmation that it’s me he’s looking at.
It’s me he has chosen.
I want to eat him for breakfast, and he’s looking at me like I’m his favorite dessert.
A full-body shiver runs through me. I haven’t had enough tequila for it to be messing with my head. But this guy has me totally mesmerized. It feels like we’re the only two people in the room.
Tonight was supposed to be just a good time, to dance, to blow off some stress.
And yet here I am, pulled to a total stranger in a way I can’t explain.
Shivering from the intensity of the situation, I break eye contact and look back toward Matt. Would it be awful to up and leave him? Probably. But I still consider it.
Poor guy is clueless to my world tilting on its axis just now. He tries to step closer to me, placing a hand on my hip. The beat changes so I lightly dance out of it without much effort.
His hands aren’t the ones I want to feel.
My eyes flick back toward my mystery man, and I’m shocked to see his brows knitted together and a scowl on his face. What’s that about? First he looks at me like I’m a precious jewel and then like he’s about to rip someone’s head off.
It’s too much. I turn around and attempt to steady myself. The air around me feels suffocating. My head is swirling, too many sensations hitting me at once. I need to breathe. I came to clear my head, not mess it up again.
Even if the hot stranger is the most attractive thing I’ve seen all day… or ever, if I’m being honest.
I can’t let myself look back at him. I know in my soul that this man could obliterate me.
Don’t look. Move away.
Even though my body is screaming at me to go to him.
You’re stronger than this , I tell myself. But my short breaths tell me I’m lying.
As if answering my prayer, the DJ announces that he’s taking a break and puts on a generic mix of popular music. Here’s my chance to pull myself together. Matt’s still in my vicinity but at least he’s backed off, hovering on the edges. Smart boy.
The simple instrumental melody must be the cue to grab a drink because half the dance floor empties and heads toward the bar.
As I start to move in the same direction, my resolve falters and I look back.
The club must have filled to capacity while we were dancing, because try as I might, I can’t locate Mr. Intense it feels reptilian and gross on my arm and I can’t help my flinch.
My breathing is hot and heavy, but it’s not for him.
The guy has been decent, but his manners could definitely use some work.
I blow out a breath, barely resting on the outside of his knee, trying to catch my breath and reorient my thoughts. My skin bristles as I feel Matt’s clammy hand try to slip its way around my waist again. Pretty boy’s feeling bold, is he? Time to ditch this guy.
Pushing myself out of reach, I give a tight smile. “Too hot for that.” His face falls a smidge, but I haven’t actually been flirting with the dude. Being nice and letting him talk is not the same as flirting. It’s common decency.
“Listen, Matt, it’s been fun hanging with you,” I lie, deciding to cut this one off at the head, especially before he starts trying to rub up on me with his other head.
Even if I can’t find that hot stranger again, any more time spent with Matt would only give him the wrong idea.
His expression confirms it as his eyes widen as he waves a hand back and forth in between us.
“But… am I misreading things here?” he asks, trying to recover.
“I just got out of something, and I’m not looking for anything right now—not even for a night,” I cut him off as his mouth opens to speak.
Matt’s eyes flare and he abruptly stands up and says he’s going to go take a piss.
As if he didn’t have enough marks against him, this would be the final one, because, eww, gross .
Too much time with frat boys does not mean I enjoy being treated as one, and I quickly let him by.
Can’t be entirely sure, but I think I hear him snarl, “Bitch,” under his breath as he stalks away.
Smell ya later . I quickly hop up on the seat he vacated and let my eyes wander the crowd, taking in all the sights and sounds. And maybe also because I’m still looking for my mystery man.
Where did this “my” come from? And really, should I be so pressed about a guy I haven’t even met?
But that connection … I want to be burned by it again.
As I’m distracted by the vibrant colors and rapid Spanish surrounding me, it hits me.
These people are so damn happy. Like they’re truly embracing life.
They probably worry and stress like the rest of us, but from the smiles on their faces and the lightness of their feet, you’d never know it. And I want some of what they’ve got.
Standing and lifting up on my toes trying to gain a few inches, I scan slowly from left to right. Nothing. Shit. Maybe he left. The thought bothers me more than I’m willing to admit. I make one more pass, straining to locate those fierce eyes and dark hair, but no luck.
Resigning myself to making a post in the Missed Connections section of Craigslist, I weigh my options.
Time for another shot? I haven’t hit my quota, and the night is still young.
I’m considering a different brand of tequila when the DJ steps back up to the sound booth.
He must be a favorite because the crowd erupts in applause, and I join in.
Compared to the beginning of the night, I feel a lot more comfortable now, even if I don’t have a dance partner.
Waiting for another Spanish song to play, I’m shocked when I hear the unmistakable lines of “Bootylicious” ring out.
By the time Destiny’s Child has declared no one “can handle this,” I’ve done a one-eighty and landed myself in the center of the crowd. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s shaking my ass, and this has been my go-to anthem the whole year. Or so says Claire.
It’s nice to have a few familiar songs interspersed with the Latin beats.
My insecurities melt away as my hips and legs drop low to the familiar rhythm, no fancy footwork required.
I shimmy and shake, finding a group of girls smiling and hyping each other up.
We rock back and forth, smacking asses at random and teasing each other.
I smile so hard my jaw hurts, but I don’t care one bit.
Dance makes best friends out of total strangers.
We’re making fools of ourselves and couldn’t care less.
From the center of the throng, I have a good vantage spot.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still keeping an eye out for my sexy stranger, on the off chance he’s still hanging around.
I can’t get him out of my head. Why did he feel so familiar, even from a distance?
I’m sure I’ve never seen him before, I know I wouldn’t have forgotten.
He’s gorgeous, yes, but it’s more than that. He looked at me like he wanted to invade my head, my heart, my whole body.
Like he has come home.
Like he knows me better than I know myself.
There was something so deep, so piercing in his eyes that it almost dared me to look away.
Could I even handle that?
When the music changes over to a quick four-step beat with male vocals, it’s almost a welcome reprieve from my thoughts. Until the crowd begins to move.
And that prickly feeling hits again.
My eyes fly across the room, searching, seeking for even a glimpse. It has to be him, I just know it.
It takes a second, but then I spot him. Why is he always so far away from me? I know it’s petulant, but I don’t care. I’m a kid whose cookie jar is just out of reach.
And I want him .
I blink to make sure. Yep, that’s definitely my man. I don’t even question the possessive thought.
Tingles travel my spine, but shock hits as I realize he’s not looking at me this time, he’s gesturing to someone off to my right. To— Matt? What the hell?
He hasn’t seen me yet. Stepping back to avoid a woman getting dipped, he edges his way through the multitude of bodies, too many people blocking me from sight, his face turned in Matt’s direction.
I take a breath and swallow my nerves. Time to follow my instincts.
It might be crazy, but I do love a challenge. And if I leave tonight without meeting him, without talking to this guy who has me questioning everything I know, my gut tells me I’m gonna regret it.
He moves with effortless courtesy toward the bar, one arm outstretched to keep from bumping into the melee of sweaty bodies.
My feet teeter a bit on my heels as I try to slide through the crush of dancers, my eyes laser focused on that gorgeous man so I don’t lose sight of him again.
He’s ahead of me and slightly to the right.
If I’m quick enough, I should be able to intercept him.
If I can do it without falling over, that is.
I’m closer now. A few clusters of people separate us, and my stranger walks fast, dodging careless dancers and their feet, his focus intent on the bar. For a fleeting moment, I really hope it’s not another girl he’s got his eye on.
Only a few more steps…
Before I can blink, a large green polo shirt wearing an even bigger guy jostles my shoulder, pushing me off balance.
Even though my heels aren’t terribly high, I still falter and barely catch myself from falling over.
Gasping, I take two quick steps to the side and right myself. Talk about embarrassing .
But when I look up again, my mystery man is about to pass me by.
Nope, no way. I did not come all the way out here tonight to let someone whose eyes bore right into my soul just walk away because of an overly clumsy green-shirt dude.
I have to know.
Disregarding my sanity and my pride, I push rudely past the last two people separating us and reach my arm out.
I overshoot trying to grab his shoulder and instead end up sliding my hand right across his strong chest. Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand slides all the way down his arm to clutch his fingers in mine.
The immediate electrical zap is sharp enough that I expect to see sparks.
He stops dead in his tracks, almost pitching forward into a leggy blonde but rights himself just in time.
Breathless from the heat or maybe from my brazen move, I realize I’m tugging him toward me.
Well, this is awkward.
I should probably say something.
He turns to look at me, and my tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I just stand there, lips parted, staring at the handsome man whose eyes are locked on mine.
Those sinfully gorgeous eyes that I finally get to see up close.
A beautiful brown, like dark chocolate and espresso; all my favorites.
They dive right into mine, holding me captive.
Whoa.
“Hey!” I immediately cringe at my great conversation opener. I’m never at a loss for words, but then I’ve never seen someone like him .
His mouth breaks into a warm, mischievous smile, but the way he’s looking at me, so intense and direct, causes my breath to catch.
Trying to regain my normal composure, that I’m-going-to-get-what-I-want attitude that has always worked for me in the past, I take a breath and stutter out, “Wh-why aren’t you dancing with me yet? ”
The heat building in his eyes intensifies even more as he takes my hand, encircling mine and pulling me to him as he says,
“I’m all yours.”