Chapter Five #2
The guy stares at me for a long moment, strobe lights bouncing off his cheekbones. Warmth from the alcohol purrs through my limbs.
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“Shoot.”
He blinks his eyes closed. “There’s a chance this is a wildly inappropriate question from a stranger and I’m just drunk enough to ask it.”
“I’m an open book,” I chirp. Not generally true, but whatever, right now it is. “Fire away.”
“All right.” He traces a finger across the rim of his glass. “Do you think you’ll quit? Like, not make yourself go through all of that.”
“Nope.” I haven’t thought about it and I don’t need to. “It might all feel impossible right now, but I will only quit rowing when someone pries my oars out of my cold, dead hands. Or…”
“Or?”
“Or when I get trounced at Pan Ams and I have no other choice. But I’m not going down without a fight. I will work every minute of every day to claw my way back, no matter how long the odds.”
A laugh eases out of him. “Fuck, that’s impressive.”
“I think you mean stubborn.”
“No.” He looks at me, holds my gaze. Despite the sticky heat practically radiating off the walls, goose bumps race across my bare arms. “I meant what I said.”
There’s acid coursing through my veins now. I’m loopy, slightly out of control. At least I don’t feel hollowed out anymore.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask.
His mouth explodes in a grin. “Hell yes, I do.”
I polish off the rest of my drink in one clean gulp, slam down the empty glass, and spin. I don’t usually do this. But right now, with the residual heat of anger and the sparkle of alcohol in my veins, I want to dance until my toes go numb.
The two of us forge a path through the cramped dance floor until I find a sliver of empty space.
Circled by sweat-slicked bodies, I raise my hands and let the music take over.
It vibrates through me, guiding my hips back and forth, my shoulders up and down.
Lasers crisscross the crowd, speckling my arms in neon green.
I chase them like a cat, finding the beat in my fingers and my toes.
I’m lost in this moment, in everything. All the shit has fallen away—Maxwell, the race. Even the talk with Carla. There’s nothing left but this moment. And a man.
I spin, searching for my dancing partner. When I’ve made nearly a full revolution, I find him moving with the music, a surprisingly respectful distance back.
And, damn, he’s gorgeous.
His green eyes, his tight jawline. The way his hair falls forward as he moves, and the way he shakes his head to pull it back.
Those shoulders—so wide I don’t know if I’d be able to get my arms comfortably around them, but I’m suddenly extremely interested in trying.
Obviously, I noticed all of this before.
It’s electric now, though. Air fizzes around him, pulses with his energy.
I step toward him. Our eyes lock. He hesitates, so I reach out, green lines zigzagging the expanse of my skin. He catches my wrist, thumb pressing to the skin just below my palm, and draws me into his body.
I release myself into the hard planes of his torso. Our bodies zipper together and we move as one. We’re so close that I can smell him—sandalwood and citrus. Our knees lock together: mine, his, mine, his.
His palm goes flat on my low back. Through the thin fabric of my shirt, my skin prickles under the feathery touch of his fingers. I’m reminded of the way they engulfed my wrist when he took my hand yesterday.
The music changes. Hard bass melts into a smooth rhythm, guiding us in a synchronized harmony. His hand hitches up my shirt and his fingers trail across the smooth skin at my low back. The touch sends shivers chasing one another along my spine.
In return, I twine an arm around his neck. He instantly escalates, running his knuckles down my bare arm. My skin melts in the wake of his touch. I arch into him, threading my fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. A low, guttural sound escapes his throat. Heat pools between my legs.
My forehead is in line with his throat. His breath warms my cheek. I twist, my nose bumping his jawline. Music fires around us, intoxicating and smooth. His eyes drop to my mouth and I tip my face upward, edging closer to his lips.
Then he inhales sharply, so loud I can hear it even over the thumping music.
“Are you sure?” he whispers.
He draws himself back.
Heat vacuums out of my limbs, and collects in my cheeks instead. I recoil, stumbling away from the all-consuming moment. Embarrassment rushes to fill the space left by the warmth of his body. What the hell am I doing?
I don’t do this. I never do this.
“I—” My head is spinning. I don’t even know this man’s name and I just tried to make out with him in the middle of a dance floor? “I should go.”
“What?” His eyes are unfocused as he pushes his hand into his hair. “I’m just not—”
“It’s okay!” I blurt out. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you some other time.”
It’s a lie and we both know it. Tomorrow, I’ll fly back to California. He’ll go wherever he goes. Either way, we’ll definitely never see each other again.
Before he can say another word, though, I turn and flee.