can handle herself,” I murmured to myself.
About an hour passed with me perched on the bar, and I was feeling more and more like a creeper. To make matters worse I wasn’t drinking anything, further adding to my Peeping Tom appeal.
You really like being the weird one, don’t you, Jesse? I shook my head and sighed. Maybe you haven’t grown up as much as you’d like to think.
“Hey, wanna dance?” a voice slurred, interrupting my thoughts.
I turned to find a flushed-faced woman with a sprinkling of freckles on her nose. She wore a bright fuchsia number with a neckline that plunged all the way to her belly button. I was surprised she could even walk around without flashing the whole club her areolas; then again she probably used that magic fashion know-how that women seemed to be born with. This stranger was beautiful, no doubt about that, but I was at that club for one specific person and unfortunately it wasn’t her.
My lips curled into a forced smile. “Ah, no. It’s okay.”
The brightness of her eyes darkened as her lips jutted forward into an angry pout. “Why not?”
I shrugged, shifting away from her touch. “I just don’t feel like it.”
“You don’t feel like dancing with a hot woman?” She wagged her eyebrows up and down, exhaling slightly. Her breath was tinged in alcohol, which only turned me off a bit more.
“Um, I’m actually here with a friend,” I shot back, my voice losing its initial kindness.
“A friend?” she repeated, sounding unconvinced. “I’ve seen you sitting here for a bit. You look pretty alone to me.”
“I…uh…” I glanced toward the floor and noticed that Stephanie was now air humping Enrique Iglesias. Where the heck was Rocky?
Just as quickly as the question flew through my mind, I felt her warmth nearing me. It was as if my body could detect her before my eyes even tracked her. I glanced up and spotted her petite figure pushing its way toward the bar. Grinning smugly, I looked back at Miss Hot Woman and said, “There she is right now.”
With a humph, Mistress in Fuchsia whipped around and approached another poor chap at the opposite end of the bar. She must have been really “thirsty,” if you know what I mean.
“Good luck to you, sir,” I mumbled, never taking my eyes off Rocky.
Here goes nothing.
Taking a deep breath, I silently pushed my way toward her like a puma stalking its prey. My eyes blazed as I took in the way the lights reflected off her slick body, an iridescent glow extending between her breasts. I licked my lips, imagining what it would be like to lick her cleavage, trailing my path up and down her body.
I bet she tastes like cherries and feels like heaven.
Once I reached her, I placed my hand on her bare shoulder, which felt warm and slippery under my palm.
I wonder what else is warm and slippery.
“Get a hold of yourself, scumbag,” I whispered in disgust. “This is about connecting with a friend.”
Even though you want to connect in some other way.
I grunted and shook my head guiltily. I was as much a douche as I imagined Ethan and Dwight to be, and at least those guys were open about their intentions.
Head in the game, Tyler. Head in the game.
Shaking off my nerves, I squeezed my fingers against her slim frame.
“If you want to walk out of here with that hand intact, you better get it off me right now,” she snapped angrily.
“Wow! You have changed since high school,” I exclaimed in both surprise and amusement.
She spun around and widened her eyes. “Jesse! What are you doing here?”
Following you. Stalking you.
Begrudgingly, I lifted my hand and scratched at my throat. “Figured our BFF would ditch you sooner or later.” I motioned toward the dance floor at what now looked like the beginnings of a softcore porn. “By the looks of it, I was right.”
Rocky smirked. “In her defense, she waited an hour.”
“Oh, wow! A whole hour! Call the presses.” I laughed at her answering scowl.
“Whatever. I don’t care. At least she’s having a good time.” Rocky caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a drink. My body involuntarily tensed up, remembering how not long ago it was me chugging down drinks instead of her.
“Here you go, Honey.” The bartender slid a glass in front of her. Though I wanted nothing more than to slap it from her hand, I knew she was an adult. She was also not my mother.
She wasn’t me.
“So,