Or a boyfriend.
One thing is clear. She seems to have one foot already out the door. And out of Sycamore Mountain. So, I plan to make the most of every second she’s here. The opening chords of “Hot in Herre” by Nelly begin to play. Spinning in my chair toward her, I extend my hand. “Care to dance?”
Her face brightens, that twinkle returning to her captivating jewel-colored eyes. “Why yes, I’d love to.”
We make our way onto the dancefloor, moving and shaking to the catchy beat of the song like we’ve been dance partners cutting a rug for years. Okay, if the dancers were Jerry and Elaine fromSeinfeld. She’s literally dancing to the beat of her own drum. She’s off step by about half a note throughout the number, dancing more like the characters fromCharlie Brown’s Christmasthan the other girls here, swaying provocatively in front of their partners. There’s no clever seduction with this enchantress. Yet the smile that takes over her face as she lifts her arms overhead and spins before me is downright infectious.
There’s a carefree nature to this beauty that’s so alluring. She’s confident and poised, but not afraid to let her hair down. And hearing Ellie describe how she likes to transform her appearancemade me ponder what she’d look like as a blonde or a brunette, with short hair or long.
Currently, her hair is decoratively swept up with several braids wrapped around the base of her bun. Much like her makeup, you could tell she’d spent time on her appearance, but it looks effortlessly elegant. Her dress is a riot of color that seems to bring out the deep green hue of her eyes. The bodice is a more muted crisscross of latticework that stops at her waist before flaring out into a soft, flowy silk skirt of flowers covered in a sheer overlay.
I yearn for a slower song, wishing I could pull her beautiful body into mine. Bury my nose in her soft locks and hypnotizing scent. But as Nelly ends, Flo Rida begins. As Sia croons about liking the wild ones, Char seems to embrace the lyrics as if they’re her anthem. She jumps to the beat, pointing at me, and singing that she wants to shut down the club with me. My chest fills with irrational pride. She mimics the lyrics, singing about being hungover from too much vodka to the point I have to throw my head back in laughter. That is until she spins, her delectable ass twerking for me like a private lap dance.
Fuck.Now my dick wants in on this party.
Char and I continue to swirl around each other, taking turns throwing in ridiculous dance moves from years ago, like the Sprinkler, the Hand Jive, and the Charleston. Whether they match the beat of the music is irrelevant. She tosses a pretend fishing line and reels me in like a fisherman winding in his catch. Unwilling to miss the opportunity, I shimmy close enough to wrap my arms around her momentarily, both of us laughing so hard we have to separate to get ourselves together.
Hell, I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun with anyone. Much less a woman. The thought has barely registered when she leans forward, busting out the Robot. I double over, wheezing out a chuckle.
Not to be outdone, I give my best Running Man. Dancing like I’m jogging in place, I attempt to keep a serious expression intact but fail miserably when I see Char wiggling the left side of her body and loseit.Haha.Is that the Stanky Leg?Hell, any minute this phenomenal creature could start to Moonwalk.
With any other girl, I’d probably be looking to excuse myself to the men’s room. But, she’s so vivacious and free. Not the least bit self-conscious. As that song comes to a close, “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 starts to play. Unable to stand it any longer, I reach for her hand and spin her around. Any excuse to touch her.
It’s honestly been a while since I’ve spent any real time on the dancefloor with a woman. The only one I ever danced with on a regular basis was Addison. She only thought of me as a friend, so it was safe. Other women, not so much.
Looking over her shoulder, my cheeks aching from the strain of my smile, it quickly falls as I find all of my firefighter brothers gawking at us, mouths wide. Ellie wears the grin of a Cheshire cat.Hmmm. Did she have something to do with the seating arrangement?Hell, I need to send her a fruit basket or a bottle of wine or something.
One song turns into four. As The Weeknd’s “I Can’t Feel My Face” begins to play, it feels as if it was written about this very moment. Try as I might, I cannot recall the last time I grinned this much. My cheeks are actually numb.
Until…
“Any chance I can cut in?”
I try to school my features at Brecken’s unwanted intrusion and accept my disappointment like a man. I mean, I’ve had her all to myself for probably an hour. Taking a step back, I allow him to move into my spot. But not before adding, “Just save the last dance for me.” I wink.
Char beams up at me. “It’s all yours.”
Over the course of the next hour, I watch as men, young and old, twirl Char around the dancefloor. From Harrison, Ellie’s married brother-in-law, to an older guy someone introduced earlier as Salty Jo, and even my old curmudgeon of a friend, Shotgun Sam. I need to keep my eye on that one. Make sure he doesn’t try walking her to his truck.
I spend a few moments with my four newly married firefighterbrothers, slapping them on the back, congratulating them on their big day. They collectively rib me on being the last single man standing of our tight-knit group. Their playful mocking is more unsettling than it should be for a self-proclaimed bachelor.What the hell could’ve changed in twenty-four hours?Is it merely the reality that my best friends are all hitched? Ellie must’ve put something in that sweet tea for me to be feeling this off-kilter. Because this isn’t like me.
My eyes land on the stunner swaying to and fro on the dancefloor. Her magnanimous smile can probably be seen from outer space, I muse.
You’re lonely, Dave. That’s all this is. Get a grip.
“Hey, Dave.” I glance over my shoulder to find Brooke staring back at me. I’d briefly dated the pretty blonde about six months ago. “Want to dance?”
Yes, I think to myself. Just not with you.But I don’t have it in me to be rude. “Sure.” Of course, this is when a slow song finally starts to play.Grrr.
“How’ve you been?” she asks, her hands resting on my chest as we dance. Her familiarity is making my skin bristle.
“Good. You?” Yeah. This isn’t at all awkward. I’d enjoyed Brooke’s company when we dated. Enough, I actually let my guard down and brought her back to my place.
Big mistake.
It didn’t take long after this for our once every few weeks casual date nights to suddenly get the hard press for more. Instead of dinner and drinks, it was conversations about where things were going. I didn’t want to be rude, but that map was very clear.
All roads lead to nowhere for me.
