huh?" I say, meeting his eyes. He chuckles as he walks toward me. "Way to not make this awkward, J."
"You look nice," he says, ignoring my jab.
"Thanks." I look up at the four-story building, then across the parking lot to the lounge. "Where'd you find this place? It looks really nice."
“My dad and I stopped here a few years ago on the way back from a fishing trip,” he says. “You know how much he hates overpriced hotel chains.”
“I remember.” I nod. He always insisted we do a timeshare or stay in a private hotel when we went on trips.
“This place is really nice. It has all the amenities the big chains offer, plus great food, and clearly, entertainment.” He finishes his sentence by gesturing to the lounge across the parking lot.
“Cool.” I smile. “Well, let’s go eat, I’m starving.”
We are quiet as we make the short walk across the parking lot. I wonder what he's thinking, but I'm having a hard time reading him. He’s usually a lot chattier. Maybe he's trying to decide on the best time to spill his thoughts. Is it easier to just rip off the Band-Aid now and enjoy our night, or should we linger?
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but my breath hitches when he casually slides his arm across my lower back.
"I've always loved how your ass looks in those jeans." He winks, then reaches forward, opening the door.
"Okay?" I laugh, stepping in front of him, entering the lounge.
"They hug your curves, leading up your tight little body. And now that I know how that feels up close, I sure as fuck won't be forgetting it anytime soon."
A crease forms in my brow as I look up at him. His face is still and unreadable. If this is his weird way of making light of the situation, it’s sort of fucked up. This is messing with me enough, I don't think I'm ready to joke about it.
"What do you mean you won't be forgetting any time soon?"
He trails a finger down my arm, causing my nerves to ignite. But before he can speak we are greeted by a hostess.
"For two?"
"Yep. Private booth," Jordan says.
"Okay. It will be a little bit. Are you visiting the hotel?"
"Yes."
"Well, if you don't want to wait, we can call your room when your table is ready. Or you can wait by the bar. Room service is also an option, " she says.
"Thanks," he says. "We'll grab a drink and wait here."
We both order rum and Coke. The bartender smiles and sits our glasses in front of us before moving away.
"So, who's the guy?" Jordan asks, sitting on the barstool next to me.
I know who he's talking about, but for some reason I feel the need to play dumb. "What guy?"
"Facebook guy. The picture Shana tagged you in."
"Oh." I clear my throat. "Nobody, really," I say. "Well… I barely know him. His name is Lucas. He's really nice."
"Nice, huh?" he says, reaching for his glass. "You like him?"
"Uh. Yeah. We've only been out once, but so far. Yeah."
"Interesting," he says, looking up at the shelves of alcohol. My brows furrow as I search his face for what that means. His tone is dry, almost dismissive, and I'm not sure how to take it.
"Interesting?" I finally ask. "What's interesting?"
"That you think you like him."
"I do like him."
"Okay, well I hope he didn't get too attached."
I grip my glass, the cool liquid a contrast to the heat that’s rolling through me. He’s not making any damn sense. "All right, Jordan. What in hell are you talking about?" I say, turning to him.
He shakes his head, ignoring me again, then grabs his drink and finishes it in one gulp. I’m still eyeing him curiously as he slides from his seat and walks toward me, stepping between my legs.
"Come dance with me," he says.
I press my lips together and cross my arms as I stare up at him.
"What?" I ask.
His fingers graze my thigh and he steps closer, causing my legs to open wider. It should piss me off, but instead my body tingles and my temper lessens the closer he gets.
"Come dance with me, Zee," he says in a low tone. "And I'll show you what I'm talking about."
My words get caught in my throat and it doesn't get any better as he dances his fingers along my hip before stopping to grab my hand. I walk with him to the dance floor, my mind racing. He's being