Austin asks if we want to drink, and Holt shakes his head. "Actually, no. We're just headed out."
Austin groans, "Man, you just got here."
"I know, but Paisley has to get home."
"Really? It's not even 10 o'clock."
"I know, but she's got work tomorrow."
"I see," Austin nods slowly, giving his buddy a long look, then he claps Holt on the back. "Well, that's good. No problem, man. I'll see you Monday, if not sooner?"
"Sure thing, man," Holt chuckles. "You going to be okay out here tonight? You won't party too hard without me?"
I laugh. "Are you usually the designated driver, Holt?"
Austin laughs, "To be honest, yeah, he is. He looks after me like my big brother did back home in Virginia."
"That where you're from?" I ask. I make pleasant conversation. I say the right thing. This is normal, right?
It's not what I want to be doing, saying, thinking, though. What I want to be doing is drawing Holt to me again. I want to be alone with him somewhere, anywhere but here.
Austin chuckles, "Yeah, he's the good guy around here. Always making sure I'm okay."
"That's nice," I say. "But tonight, will you take a taxi home?"
He nods, then gives a salute to Holt. "Scout's honor."
Holt laughs. "You were a Boy Scout back home?"
Austin laughs, "Hell, I don't know what I was."
"All right. You don't get too crazy out there."
"Promise." Austin spins on his heels and returns to the dance floor.
"You ready to get out of here?" Holt asks, his hot breath on my ear.
"Please," I say. One word.
"You won't be sad?” he asks. "To miss all my dance moves? We didn't even get one dance, not even one song."
"I'm a terrible dancer," I tell him. "You'd be so disappointed in my two left feet."
"If you fell," he says, "it would have meant I could have picked you up."
I lick my lips, pulling Holt close. "Truth is, Holt Stone, I kind of want to be on my back with you on top of me."
Holt looks at me with eyes that tell a whole story. "Fuck," he groans, running a hand over his jaw. "I need to get you the hell out of here."
I nod, "Yes, sir, you do."
Holt
It doesn't take long before we're back in the pickup truck. "Okay. Well, that escalated quickly," I say, running a hand through my hair, looking over at Paisley, who's laughing in that nervous, excited kind of way.
Her eyes are closed and she has no fucking idea how gorgeous she is. I'm still reeling from that kiss. That goddamn fucking kiss. That kiss that blows all other kisses away. She has no goddamn clue.
I look over at her. "Listen," I say, "I'm just putting this out there. One kiss doesn't have to change everything, but that kiss, it turned a simple date into a goddamn fantasy real fucking fast. You following?"
She opens her eyes in a slow, sultry kind of way. The kind of way that has the moon casting a glow across her face. Her long lashes batting, ever so slowly.
The kind of way that has my heart pounding, my cock hardening, my goddamn soul searching. "A fantasy, huh?" she asks. "Tell me more." She licks her lips, and her tongue? It's fucking kitty-cat pink. "Tell me everything, Holt Stone."
I swallow, "Paisley Cassidy, I don't think you could handle my everything."
"Try me." She leans back in the Chevy, her hair long and loose over her bare shoulders and fuck, that dress of hers. That peachy cream has me thinking all sorts of things. Wondering about the creamy center between her thighs, wondering about her firsts.
She said tonight is one first of many. How many firsts are we talking? I want to ask but fuck, can you ask that in the 21st fucking century? I'm not sure and I don't want to press things that aren't meant to be pressed, but damn, I want to know.
Is she a virgin? Does she want to be a virgin? I swallow.
"You want to stay in my pickup truck all night?" I ask her. She laughs softly, looking over at me. I haven't even turned the truck on.
"How long does the nurse stay with your mom?" she asks.
"He stays all night on Fridays," I tell her.
She lifts her eyelids. "You stay out all night on Fridays?"
"No," I say, "but I don't want to be worried about when I have to come in. It's my one night off a week and my therapist told me I shouldn't have to be looking at the clock. So I usually stay out till one or so, but I'll take a slow drive home, have a beer or two. When I get back, I watch TV. I'm not on, you know what I mean?"
She nods, "That sounds nice. And I know what you mean about being on because I'm always on 24/7, except for now." She exhales. "Remember when I told you I was 21 going on 45?" She smiles tightly. "Damn, this was supposed to be the fantasy part of the evening. Not the reality part." She sighs slowly. "Let's go back, rewind again, please." She presses her palms together like she's praying. "Take me to your fantasy, Holt, please. Pretty, pretty please."