Twenty-One
Nancy leaned against the cool marble of the wall, trying to catch her breath while the music thumped around her, upbeat once more. All she could think about was the dance with Ari. What the hell had happened?
It was no big deal, she told herself. But the way Ari had melted against her, how warm and real she felt, was sending shivers down Nancy’s spine.
Stop it! It was just a dance. Just Ari. The party girl who sits in the back seat!
Nancy pushed away from the wall, forcing herself to navigate the crowd of partygoers like a pinball, trying to drown her thoughts in the pulsating beat of the music. She grabbed a drink from a passing tray and took a long sip. The sharpness of the liquor burned her throat.
Nancy’s gaze drifted over, and there stood Ari, alone at the edge of the crowd, her drink forgotten in her hand. Her shoulders were slightly slumped, her expression distant, as if she were lost in thought. The vibrant energy of the party seemed to pass her by.
There was something about the sadness in her posture, the way she stood so still, that struck Nancy in a way she hadn’t expected. In that moment, she looked vulnerable, far more vulnerable than the confident, carefree persona she usually projected.
For a brief moment, Nancy’s heart softened, a sudden rush of empathy flooding her chest. It was a side of Ari she’d rarely seen, and seeing it now was devastating. She wanted to hold her. She wanted to…
It was just physical contact. Which she hadn’t had in a while. That was probably what it was. Her body was just reacting like Pavlov’s dogs to the touch of an attractive woman. Which Ari was. You couldn’t argue any other. Not Nancy’s type, of course. She tended to go for much more serious types, like Tara, the intense journalist; Rachel, the driven lawyer; and Simone, the no-nonsense architect. Fun-loving, wealthy party girls had never been on the roster.
Yet, the more she tried to convince herself it was nothing, the less she bought it.
As she watched Ari, Nancy’s heart raced.
Oh, for god’s sake. It’s not frustration, it’s just the alcohol, she then decided.
That was even worse. Because, she realised, unlike Ari, she hadn’t drunk a ton. She’d made sure to have a glass in her hand at all times, as per wedding protocol. But she’d nursed them. She was never tipsy at work, even if there wasn’t a car involved. Even if she was on some mad mission to accompany Ari to her ex’s wedding/stolen jewellery retrieval mission, she was on the job.
She was going back to her other theory. Rogue hormones and sex deprivation.
With a dramatic sigh, Nancy leaned back against the wall again, desperately needing to regroup. Ari was her boss. She had no business noticing the way Ari’s dress clung to her or the way her perfume lingered in the air between them. No business feeling the heat still prickling at the back of her neck.