Payback is a bitch.
When I see a light shut off through the front window, around eight PM, I figure she’s heading to bed early, and I can probably give up on seeing her today. But before I make the decision to get in my car and go home, sulk for the rest of my first day being twenty-five like the little bitch I’ve turned into, her porch light comes on, the door I’ve burned holes in with my eyes all day opens, and the love of my life walks out of it, dressed to the goddamn nines.
Seriously, she’s a walking wet dream. She’s got this short little white dress on, with these small heels, idk, it makes her legs look like they go on for days. My jaw is probably as long as her legs rn, tbh. I don’t think the dress is much more than a long T-shirt, but fuck me, is it doing things for her slender build. When she steps out to lock up, the dress rides up her thighs the smallest bit, and my hand twitches, wishing it was caressing that soft, intimate skin my eyes are glued to. Or anything north of it, I’m not picky, really. Am I jealous of fabric? This might be a new low. Or is it a new high? I’ll get back to you on that.
My breaths are all coming out through my nose, my fly is extra tight, and it’s all I can do not to lose my ever-loving mind right now. She saunters—not walks,saunters—down the driveway toward her car (the one I bought her, cause I’m a dick), smirking at me.
Am I the idiot here? I thought we’d made serious progress these past weeks, and last night especially. Where the fuck is she going like this? Do I have a right to be jealous about it? Pretty sure I don’t, but don’t think I can help it at this point. Fuck, this is all kinds of confusing.
When she’s close enough to hear me without raising my voice like a jackass, what comes out is, “Who are you going out with looking like that?” My eyes take their time roaming her up and down, soaking in the sight before me. Her makeup is a little more than she’s been wearing lately, her hair down past her shoulders and styled, and the thought of her looking like this for some other guy has my blood pressure rising at an unhealthy rate.
Her eyebrows raise at the possessiveness in my tone, and I hope like hell I haven’t fucked this up again before it’s even started.
“Alex, if that’s okay withyou,” she says with a dangerous sweetness lacing her tone.
I clear my throat, embarrassed, but still jealous as fuck. “Of course,” I manage to mumble.
“And you, you absolute tool. Get in.” Her head nods toward her SLC, and I hear her keys jangle in the little clutch she’s carrying. My heart matches its rhythm.
“Seriously?” I ask, before my hopes get too high. A little late. It feels like the top of that coaster we used to love riding at Six Flags, back when we could visit freely without getting recognized by fans.
She rolls her eyes, but reaches out to grab my hand and yank me toward her, dragging me behind her to the SUV. I take my chance to inhale as deep as I can without sounding creepy—breathing in her sweet scent, relishing in being this close to her, the contact of her hand on mine.
I look down to my jeans, white tee and Timberlands and hope it’s good enough for wherever she’s planning on taking me. Probably is, since I’m the one wearing them, as douchey as that sounds. Don’t really get turned away from anywhere these days, even if I don’t meet the dress code. The chance of publicity for them is always worth it. But it wouldn’t be like Gem to pick somewhere crazy exclusive, either, so probably don’t need to worry so much.
Breaks my heart a little when she lets go of my hand as we round the vehicle, but I revel in the car ride that’s coming, us, our arms just a few inches apart, sharing the center console like it’s not an excuse for us to be close for no reason is a damn good start to my night.
Have to breathe in extra deep when she brushes my forearm with hers as she puts the car in reverse, I know that wasn’t an accident.When did I turn into Mr. Fucking Darcy with these little almost-touches becoming the highlight of my day?The smile she shoots me, somewhere between apologetic and teasing, has me biting my lip to keep from groaning.
Why do I feel like she’s going to make this very, very hard on me?
And by this, I mean a lot of things. Keeping my promise. Being close to her without touching her as more than a friend. My dick. Take your pick.
Turnsout Alex picked the club. Gem would never pick somewhere this pretentious, or exclusive is maybe the more polite word for it. But there’s a booth waiting for us in the VIP section, where Alex and a couple others I vaguely recognize from the Atlanta production scene are already making themselves at home, a bottle on the table. As we walk across the mezzanine, I spot one of the bigger R&B artists from the 2000s holding court at his own table, alongside another guy in the same booth who I recognize as a major MVP who retired from the NFL a few years back, three massive rings decorating his giant fingers. I give them both a chin nod when we make eye contact. They each lift their champagne glass in response.
My hand finds the small of Gemma’s back as we approach our table, because friends do that, right? She slides in before me, kissing Alex on the cheek, greeting the others at the table. Greg, I think he said? Honestly, tune the rest of them out, say a quick hello and shoot a grateful smile to Alex before focusing all of my attention on the girl next to me again.
She’s sitting close, closer than normal, and I make no move to distance myself from her. I’m following her lead, and trying to hold myself to my word at the same time. If she wants to be pressed against me, I’m not going to stop her.
I do wonder how she’s feeling after processing for the last nearly twenty-four hours. That might not be a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but we’ve got a long history, she and I, and coming clean felt like it changed everything for us. For the first time, we’re on the same page, and I’m playing the long game now. Whatever it takes, whatever she wants, I’m in.
I’m thinking the way her hand sneaks under the table and rests on my thigh is a good sign, though. My eyes close and roll back in my head when that hand slides up, just a little, and I have to readjust myself in the booth.
She’s deep in conversation with Alex, but I notice this side of her mouth twitches, and she knowsexactlywhat she’s doing, the little minx.
God, how have I never seen this side of her before? So playful, so damn sexy.
Her fingers start to swirl around in place on my leg, and I think a groan really does make it out of my mouth that time. I try to cover it by taking a swig of the drink the server brought a couple minutes ago, but Alex shoots a knowing smirk at me, and I don’t even care. I’d take anything she can throw at me to keep Gem’s hands on me like this. However, it is getting increasinglyharderto keep my own response at bay.
I gently peel her hand off my thigh—against my own wishes, trust me—and place it back in her lap, where she wraps her fingers around my hand for a moment before releasing mine.
Jesus, I feel like I’m back in high school, but all these little brushes and touches after what feels like an eternity of pining for her… My scale of what’s sexy has absolutely been reset, recalibrated to zero. Every look, every whisper, any physical contact feels like second base—maybe third.
I need to cool the fuck down, or my plan is going to be shot to hell. None of the girls I’ve dated have ever gotten under my skin so deeply, so easily, with so little effort. It’s unsettling, and I hope it never stops.
Couldn’t tell you what the fuck music is playing, what Gem and Alex have been talking about so animatedly all this time, or what the hell the guys at the other end of the booth are doing. Oh, actually, seems like they’re on the dancefloor now. My bad. Not sure when that happened. All I know is the girl I should’vebeen with all these years is next to me, by choice, and my heart is fluttering in my throat. I hope this night lasts forever.
All of my thoughts are abruptly stopped when said girl turns to face me, leans in closer than she needs to, her chest brushing against my upper arm as she brings her lips to my ear and she speaks, her lips skating over my skin with every syllable. “Excuse me.”
