When the song finishes and the bright lights come on, Dylan’s eyes lock with mine again and he winks, before they all link arms and take a bow. I bite my lip to suppress the size of my smile and shake my head. When Dylan beams back at me, I can’t stop the laughter that escapes.
I am so screwed. With that in mind, I jump up from my seat and power walk to the bar.I need a drink.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dylan
HowmuchtimedoI give Summer before I approach? We’ve been dancing around each other all night, and even though she’s tried to hide it, it’s impossible to miss the heat reflected in her beautiful green eyes. Especially when that heat is directed at me. When I made the decision to kiss her last week, I knew there was a strong chance I’d ruined everything. Despite saying it was to get her out of my system, I actually hoped it might spark something in her, and it absolutely did. I felt it the second she kissed me back. Now I just need to convince her to embrace it. She hasn’t left the bar since we finished our song, a fact that doesn’t bode well for me. She’s like a wild animal, always seconds away from activating her fight-or-flight response. Never completely trusting those around her, always on guard. I guarantee my overt desire for her since I kissed her has thrown her off her game. I need to proceed with caution.
Gathering all the confidence I can muster, I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and make my way across the room. “Be honest, we were better than NSYNC, right?” I ask, dropping into the empty seat beside Summer.
She tenses slightly but then relaxes as she clasps a shot glass between her hands. “Too close to call.” She smiles. “You are a talented bunch, that’s for sure. Is there anything you can’t do?”
I laugh. “Oh, there is so much I can’t do.”I can’t figure you out for one. ”But I’m always willing to give something a go.” My eyes lock on her hands as she rolls the glass along her fingers.
She releases it suddenly and turns in her seat to face me. “Thank you again for taking my place. I know you didn’t want to sing, so it means a lot to me. And thanks for singing ‘Bye Bye Bye.’ I got a lot of joy out of watching you sing a song that I know you can’t stand. I’m assuming that song was for me.”
“They were both for you. It was a toss-up between ‘Nothing Else Matters’ and ‘Shimmer’ by Fuel, but since I’ve sung Metallica before, it was a no-brainer.” I don’t comment on her thanks for taking her place because she looks a little embarrassed by it. She’s right. I hadn’t wanted to sing, but with one look at Summer’s face, I knew I had to. She’s so good at maintaining a facade that no one else could see the signs, but I’ve made it my mission to break through her walls, so I’m learning. And tonight, I’m thankful that I could see through her mask and help her.
“They had ‘Shimmer’?” she asks with a skeptical glare.
“They did not,” I say, and she bursts out laughing.
“Okay, next question. You’ve sung before!?” she asks, gripping my thigh and squeezing. “How did I not know this? Here I was thinking you were hiding this amazing part of yourself from the world. But only from me apparently.” Her brow furrows, but it’s playful.
“It was before your time,” I reply, trying not to look down at her hand on my leg. I don’t sing often, but I have been known to break into song when drunk. It’s been a while, though, and the thought of telling Summer I can sing never even crossed my mind.
“So, when you were a toddler?” she says and then laughs hysterically at her joke about our fake friendship, slapping my arm with her free hand, the other still on my leg.
I laugh a little with her, because her response is funny, but it’s not “laugh out loud, slap the person next to you” funny. I’m going to go out on a limb and say she’s drunk, or at the very least extremely tipsy.
When her laughter dies down, she removes her hand from my leg and straightens, running her hands over her legs as though she’s fixing her dress. “So, apparently that last drink has entered my bloodstream. I need to dance it off. Please tell me I can dance somewhere?” She giggles, and fuck, I love that sound.
“There’s an after party,” I say, and it’s the truth, but I would have found her a place to dance, no matter what. I would have organized an after party at my place if I had to. I’d just about make anything happen for her right now. Standing, I pull her to her feet and link my fingers through hers.
Wordlessly, we collect our things and head for the exit. The warmth of her hand in mine has my mind going places it shouldn’t. I’m surprised she’s allowing this contact but keep that to myself, aware that sudden movement could rock this already shaky boat.
Our hands are still linked when we settle in a cab. She taps her fingers to the beat of the music as we speed along, never once looking my way. I’m unsure if the movement results from nerves or a drunken characteristic, but I enjoy it, nonetheless. We have to break apart when it comes time to pay the driver, but the second she steps out of the car, Summer entwines our fingers again, playfully swinging our arms as we make our way inside.
I try not to read too much into the sudden PDA, because she’s definitely drunk, but I can’t stop the hope from rising and making an appearance. I’m not stupid. I’ve noticed the shift in our relationship. I felt it the second she jumped into my arms after the football game. And even though it cooled off a bit after that, I felt it again when we kissed and even more so tonight when she walked into the room, looking like sex on legs, in that tight dress and short boots. Her legs were so tantalizing, that I couldn’t stop my eyes from raking over them. Better my eyes than my hands or lips, either of which would have been my preference. In the split second before I met her gaze, I decided I was going to own my feelings. Tonight, I wasn’t holding anything back. And fuck am I happy I did, because it’s led us to this moment.
I’ve almost convinced myself that tonight is going to change everything, when Summer stops and releases my hand. “In the wise words of my good friend Dylan, ‘let’s get our drink on,’” she yells, elbowing me in the stomach and bouncing her shoulders. Her entire demeanor changes as she not so subtly reminds me where I stand. She may as well be shouting it from the rooftop, “friends, Dylan, nothing else.”Fuck, I’m getting whiplash.
The whiskey no longer burns on the way down my throat. I know I shouldn’t be drinking this much, but there’s no game this week, and it’s something I need to do to survive the night. We’ve been at the club for hours. At least, I hope it’s been hours, because if not, I’ve consumed a lot of alcohol in a brief space of time. I’ve just passed the point of no return. I’ve officially drunk enough to kill all feelings, and the weightlessness of my mind feels good.Is that even a word? Weightlessness…weightless…ness. It’s kind of funny, but it works.I’m laughing at myself when Joel’s arm wraps around Summer as he hands her another drink, some pink shit with a straw. I stand tall and puff out my chest, ready to stake my claim. And even though I know he’s not interested in her, because we’ve discussed it, I still can’t help the possessive feeling taking over.
Summer and I have been back and forth, friendly one minute andveryfriendly the next, if you catch my drift. So when she walks my way, I’m unsure of where we currently stand, until she walks her fingers up my chest and then uses her pointer to pull down my lip, her eyes focused on her action. When my lip slips free, I lick it, before biting down to suppress a groan.
“Are you going to dance with me, Dyl? They’re playing our song,” she says in a sultry tone. They’re not playing our song; we don’t have a song, but I play along.
Following her to the dance floor, I grip her hips, keeping her close as we walk. When we blend ourselves into the sea of bodies, I whip her around and pull her into me so our bodies align. We move in time to the beat of the song. A song I can’t even name. If I had to choose a song for us, it would be “Crocodile Rock” by Elton John. It was our dance-off song that lazy Sunday afternoon when I discovered that Summer had dance lessons as a child. I also would have accepted “Nothing Else Matters,”for obvious reasons, or Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back.” I got my groove on to that stellar hit too.
Summer unashamedly rubs her body against mine, occasionally leaning back to give me a perfect view of her perky tits, her hands in constant exploration of my body. Talk about mixed signals. I try to be a gentleman. I do. But it’s impossible with someone so beautiful practically dry humping me as we dance. Thank God for the packed dance floor, because no one is paying us any mind. I hike one of her legs up to wrap around me and grind into her, making sure she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. The little minx doesn’t even react. She just continues in her quest to turn me on.
Summer spins around at the exact moment Cory waves to get her attention. I expect her to disappear without a word, but she surprises me by placing a soft kiss on the edge of my lips before whispering in my ear. “I’m not done with this yet. Come with me?” Then, without waiting for an answer, she links our fingers and pulls me along with her. Who am I to argue?
I promised myself I wouldn’t sleep with her, because that’s a one-way ticket to a Summer-free life. Something I amnotready for. Keeping that promise is testing me tonight. There have definitely been moments where it’s felt like I’m the man Summer has set her sights on. She’s been running hot and cold, but for the last hour, the “hot” has taken the reins. Especially after she just pressed her lips to mine, albeit briefly. No one could deny the shift in the air surrounding us. She wants me; that I know. But only for tonight. She couldn’t have been clearer about that. For every touch of the hand, for every flirty look, there’s an accompanying comment about how much our friendship means to her, how special our friendship is. She’s drunk and has either lost her reasoning or is choosing to ignore it. Either way, there’s no doubt in my mind that I could have her tonight. And despite acting to the contrary, I’m the idiot who’s going to reject her.
Cory ends up needing Summer for longer than we both thought, so I spend some time with the team and even get talked into a dance by a cheerleader. She’s gorgeous in a tight little number that leaves nothing to the imagination, but my eyes seem to roam of their own accord to seek the beautiful woman I wish was in her place.