while. Thinking about Tate dragging her into a dark room made her lean forward and grip the edge of the counter with one hand. The mental image literally took her breath away. She dragged a finger down the edge of the neckline of her dress, still feeling some of the cool water clinging to her finger, loving the way it felt against her skin.
He had followed her, left the event he'd been at with his mom, and made sure she was okay. He was sitting with her, in a bar that catered to the kind of people that were so completely different than him, for her. Not just because she was Casey's friend either, if that was the case, he would have made sure she got home and that was it. No, this was something different. And that knowledge made her so hyper-sensitive. She felt it everywhere, and Rachel couldn't decide whether she hated or loved it. But all she knew was that this was the kind of realization that could change everything.
She moved out the restroom and down the hallway, the air around her feeling sluggish, thick. People moved past her like they were in slow-motion, like she could predict exactly what direction they were going to go. She shifted around them, surprised at how full the dance floor had become in the few minutes she had been away from the bar. As she moved through the crowd, she felt herself move along with the music without making a decision to do it. And even as the space cleared out so she could have made a straight shot back to her seat, she felt herself slow.
There were people all around her, some moving together, some moving on their own, but Rachel stopped where she was and let her hands drift above her head, surrendering to the sounds that literally made her spine shake inside her body. She could feel Tate watching her, and she closed her eyes, her entire being swaying to the music. She couldn't place the song through her alcohol-fogged brain, but it was sultry and sexy. A woman with a throaty voice, Lorde maybe, that made her want to dry hump (cough, cough, Tate) something. She tipped her head back, not particularly caring who was singing and making her feel so weightless.
Because back at the bar was this man who tempted her beyond reason, and waiting with him was the reality of her entire situation. So instead of taking the few steps back to it, and to him, she gave herself up.
* * *
Tate curled his hands into fists. Not because he was mad, because he had never felt this way before. Sitting there, watching her dance, was the most acute kind of torture that he could have conjured for himself. She was so fluid, so perfect in how she moved. Everything about him felt heavy. His brain certainly, because he couldn't remember the last time he'd drank this much. But his limbs were heavy too, and unfortunately, they weren't weighted in a way that made him want to stay on his stool. He actually wanted to go to her.
It had to be the shots. Because he did not dance.
Ever.
Maybe a slow dance at a wedding, the kind of buttoned up, tuxedo affairs he'd gone to with Natalie over the years, but not this kind of dancing. There were bodies all around her, women who were wearing tiny scraps of dresses, men who were staring at all the exposed places, but no one was pressing in against Rachel. It was like she had her own private space that no one even noticed. And he was thankful for that, because he had nothing obscuring his vision of her. He knew that if he moved from his seat and went to stand behind her, she probably wouldn't push him away.
He pulled at his tie, feeling like it was choking him tighter and tighter the longer he watched. His throat felt thick, and he couldn't pull in more oxygen. Bad, this was so, so bad. What the hell had he been thinking? Coming here and drinking with Rachel. If he wanted to set himself up in the worst possible situation with her, he'd done an incredibly spectacular job. Because as much as he should stay level-headed around this woman, he was definitely the opposite while he sat there watching her.
Another song started, and she tipped her head back, her red, tousled hair brushing down below her shoulder blades draped