6. Faye
As much as I’m dying to know everything Mark’s been up to, the live band jumps up on stage and starts playing. It’s a group I’ve never heard of, but they’re pretty good. They’ve got an alternative rock feel, though they’re playing current cover songs that could be considered pop, as well.
The moment I hear the melodic opening chords of The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ song “Under the Bridge,” I gasp and reach for Mark’s forearm to get his attention. “Ohmigosh! Do you remember that road trip we took to Seattle to see the Peppers in concert?”
He raises a brow, and a slow, sexy smile spreads across his lips. “Of course, I remember.” Leaning toward me, he runs a palm along his stubbled jaw and gives a knowing smirk. “The concert was great, but I remember that trip for another reason.”
Of course, he does.
It was the first time we stayed together in a hotel room, unbeknownst to our parents. Technically, our friends did go to the concert with us, but they also stayed with Jimmy Sullivan’s aunt afterwards, while we went our own way.
Feigning innocence, I ask, “Would I have anything to do with that?”
This earns me an eye roll. “You know damn well you had everything to do with what I’m referring to.” Shaking his head, he smiles. “I still can’t believe Mom bought that story. It was flimsy as hell and questionable at best.”
“We were such goodie two-shoes back then. We rarely did anything worth getting into trouble for.”
“That our parents know of,” he pointedly reminds me, and I’m surprised that, after all these years, heat flows through me at the memories.
My parents would’ve killed us both, should they have ever learned about everything we did that night. Nothing about us that night resembled being the goodie two-shoes everyone thought us to be.
“No shit. What our parents don’t know will never hurt them.”
His deep guffaw makes my spine tingle, much like it did when we were young teens in love.
Mark wasn’t only my first love but my best friend. We had this instant connection that made me trust him implicitly. I’m not even sure how to describe it—what we had just existed. I’ve never felt anything like it since.
I miss those simple times. The ease of just being with the person you loved—no games, no deception, no fear of judgment. We were the best of friends, and because of that, we pushed each other to succeed, even if it meant letting him grow further without me.
How has it already been thirty years?
“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, Faye? It’s been a minute, but I’m certain your wheels are spinning at Mach 1.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I hedge, knowing I’m nowhere close to spinning out of control. “It’s just… weird, awkward, unexpected to have you here.” I never in a million years would have put running into Mark Lancaster on my bingo card, yet here we are.
Reaching out, he squeezes my hand, and instantly, I feel as if the world settles. “I get it….” Inhaling deeply, he sighs. “No need to explain.”
After a few long moments, he lets go of my hand and uses it to suggest I continue eating. Nodding to me, he demands, “Eat.” Then, on a low chuckle that makes my pulse race again, he adds, “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
Not. Going. Anywhere.
Why does that simultaneously calm and unnerve me?
But I do as I’m told.
Picking up my sandwich, I dip it into the au jus and squeeze the end quickly so I won’t end up wearing it while I eat. “Mmmmm… This is good,” I practically moan after chewing.
The prime rib is cooked to perfection, and my lack of eating from nerves catches up with me. Before I know it, I’ve completely consumed half my plate.
We watch in silence as couples fill the dance floor.
As a song ends, the lead singer talks up the crowd.
Eventually, one loud guy from the bar yells, “Got any country in you?”
Looking at his band, the lead singer’s voice turns gravelly. “What do ya say, boys? Can we do country?”
The members of his band grumble among themselves for a moment, but then the drummer’s sticks count off a beat, and they set into playing “Watermelon Crawl,” originally by Tracy Byrd, and the crowd goes wild.
Couples pile onto the floor, and I find myself tapping my toes to the beat and grinning as I watch the sudden commotion.
There’s a group line dancing in the center, while others partner off around the edge of the wooden floor.
Some are two-stepping, others in full country swing—twisting their partners like a pretzel and flipping them like they haven’t a care in the world.
When the song switches to a cover of “She Don’t Know She’s Beautiful,” originally by Sammy Kershaw, my heart floods with memories. Back in the day, this was the song that changed everything between Mark and me.
We’d built a fire by the beach and were leaning against each other, watching the sunset.
This song was playing on the radio, and the wind was blowing my hair around like crazy.
Mark had reached up and placed a piece back behind my ear, like he’d done a million times, but this time, he hesitated. His eyes caught mine and never let go.
We’d been flirting around things for a long time, but I could tell in that moment that a decision had been made. He was willing to cross that imaginary line we’d been skating around for months.
All it took was one look, and I was on board with his plan.
Leaning in, he never took his eyes off mine.
That is, until our lips brushed, and all bets were off.
It was one of those all-consuming kisses that you never want to break from. The kind that I’d spent months fantasizing about but was too chicken to make the first move. The kind that could only mean one thing—Our days of being “just friends” were over, and I never wanted to go back.
Mark bumps my shoulder, breaking me out of my reverie, as he asks, “You still know how to dance to this?”
Heat floods through me as I return from memory lane.
Somehow, I manage to keep a straight face and shrug. “I might.”
Holding out a hand, he says, “Let’s see if we’ve still got it in us.”
Like a moth to a flame, I let him take my hand and lead me onto the dance floor.
Damn, he’s filled out over the years .
His strong, muscular frame leads me around as if we’ve been doing it for years.
I don’t even remember the last time I danced on my own—let alone with anyone else—but being in his arms is far from a hardship. We drift around the floor with ease, and I pick up the moves he guides me through much quicker than I would’ve imagined.
As he spins me out, he catches me off guard with a new move. My feet trip on themselves, but he quickly helps me recover by pulling me close.
With his strong arms holding me tight, I’m certain he whispers, “You’re still just as beautiful as ever,” but I can’t be sure.
“Wha…” escapes my lips as I rear back to look him in the eye, but he cuts me off.
Pointedly, with his eyes locked on mine, he states, “You heard what I said, Faye. The only difference between the first time I told you and now is that you’re even more beautiful.”
My stomach dips as electricity pulses through my veins, making my body react before my brain can think better of it. The next thing I know, I’m cupping his stubbled jaw and pulling him closer.
All the pent-up energy I’ve been holding in from the moment my eyes landed on Mark three days ago flows between us in an instant.
Without hesitation, his lips crash onto mine, and a fiery inferno explodes between us. Simultaneously, his hand slides along my back to my neck as the other pulls my hip flush against him.
My body melts into him as our kiss deepens. Heat floods through me as his tongue meets mine, making my brain short-circuit and my need for him grow out of control. Every nerve ending in my body trips like a live wire and pulses through me, from my head to my toes, with each beat of my heart.
I barely even notice when someone accidentally bumps into us, causing Mark to regretfully break our kiss.
Thank God Mark’s holding me upright, or I’d be a puddle on the ground.
We barely hear the intruders’ muttered “Sorry” over the music, but all I can do is stare at the sexy man before me.
Mark’s eyes never leave mine as he rakes a palm over the grin I swear he’s trying to hide.
“What the hell was that?” I pant as I wonder how in the world this man managed to completely consume me with just a kiss.
He smirks triumphantly, then leans in so only I can hear as he says, “That, my dear, was one hell of a kiss.”
You can say that again.
Leaning in, he brushes his lips against mine again, then pulls back with a devilish grin as he reaches for my hand.
“I’m not so sure I’m gonna be able to keep dancing with you if you keep lookin’ at me like that. What do you say, Faye? You wanna get out of here?”
Reaching up on my toes to steal one more kiss, I sigh heavily, then quickly add, “I thought you’d never ask.”