She nodded, doing the same. I counted down and we both began drinking. The idea was to see who could finish drinking the fastest and beat the brain freeze. I always added extra ice cream when we competed.
“Hmmmmm,” she mumbled around the straw, stomping her feet and scrunching her eyes.
Laughing around my straw, I knew the cold was getting to her. Then her eyes flew open, and she grabbed two more straws, stuck them in the glass and closed her lips around all three at the same time.
“Cheater.” Even with one straw I was more than half-way and she just above.
She shrugged, wrinkling her nose but held onto the straws. Looking at her smiling face, her watery blue eyes and flushed cheeks, I slowed my pull and pretended to suffer brain freeze. The closer she got to the bottom the more she jumped from one foot to the other, hands flailing as she urged herself to drink faster.
I laughed so hard, the drink spluttered in and around my mouth. And just as I reached the bottom before her, I stopped and continued with my pretense.
I let her win.
She slurped the last bit and let go of the straws. “Yay.” She jumped up and down, doing a jiggle of happiness. “I won.” Abruptly, she stopped and eyed me, her expression laced with suspicion. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”
“Nope. All you.” I laughed, glad she was smiling again.
She sobered a moment later then reached across the counter for my hand and linked her fingers with mine. “Thank you for always knowing what I need and always being there for me.”
I picked up a napkin and gently wiped her mouth, catching the remnants of the drink splatter from her unrestrained giggles. “Anything for you.”
We stood there comfortable with the silence blanketing our soft breaths until I broke it. “Blue, what you said in the car...” I tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Did Alan hurt you.”
Her eyes glued to mine, slowly she shook her head, squeezing the hand she held. “No party, no drinking, no dancing and definitely no sex. What a prom. Boring, huh?”
I glanced at the clock on the wall then smiled. “Your prom isn’t officially over, you know. Still another thirty minutes to midnight.” I tapped her nose gently. She frowned. “May I have the first and last dance for the evening, Miss Donovan?” I held out my free hand.
She giggled. “There’s no music.”
“Easily remedied. Come on.” Holding her hand, I led her to the living room. “Fortunately for you, you get to choose the song you dance to.” I tipped my chin at my iPod, lying on the coffee table.
She shook her head, let go and crossed the room. “You think Dad would mind if I played one of his CD’s?” She gathered her hair into a makeshift bun while staring at his collection.
No matter how many times I teased him, he refused to exchange the system for something modern. He never allowed us to touch them and played his music when he was in the mood to relax.
“If you’re into the golden oldies.” I chuckled, my eyes riveted on her.
With her hair up, that bun gave me a view of her bent neck as she scrolled through the CD’s. The shape of the dress together with the high heels, added definition to her curves and height. Even with just a coffee table between us, the distance was too much, I wanted to be closer. I wanted to touch her. Needed to. My fingers twitched, desperate to reach out. It took every ounce of willpower to not walk up to her, slip my hands around her waist and drop soft kisses to her nape.
“Found something,” I asked to distract my thoughts.
“Yeah,” she called over her shoulder.
A second later,‘Hungry Eyes’by Eric Carmen filled the room. “Dirty Dancing, nice.” I laughed and held out my hands.
“Can you dirty dance?” She stepped closer, slipping her hands into mine.
That’s something you’ll never know. “Like the movie?”
She frowned. “Why? Is there any other type?”
Fuck, her innocence was so refreshing, her vulnerability even more. I forced myself to concentrate. “No.”
We danced ballroom style for a bit until she threw back her head, laughing as I whirled her around. The sudden urge to kiss her neck, her lips, stole my thoughts, growing with each breath. To stop the craving, I released her hands and slipped mine around her waist. And as the rain poured outside, I brought her tighter to my body, swaying us like we were one. She rested her head against my chest, her hands tightening around my waist. I inhaled the lilac scent she’d steal from Mom when she was little. Yet, infused with her body lotion and shampoo, it gave off a fragrance that was uniquely different and one my nose would probably latch onto in a room filled with a hundred women.
“Shay.”
“Hmm.”
