Call It What You Want(48)

Rob leans down close to speak over the music. He’s never been this close to me before, and he smells like spices and warmth and every dirty thought I’ve ever had.

Then I realize he’s asked, “Do you want anything?” and he’s waiting for an answer.

I want you to keep breathing against my neck like that.

“No,” I say quickly. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” His hand finds my waist, and I’m sure it’s to keep me from moving away, but my world narrows down to the feeling of his palm against the half inch of skin between my shirt and jeans. “I never drink,” he says. “So you can. If you want. I’ll be okay to drive later.”

I never drink either, but I’m so keyed up about his hand and his breath and the heady scent of his neck that I’m nodding without thinking about it.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” He vanishes, leaving me there against the wall, bodies shifting all around me.

I’m about ready to melt into the floor. This is ridiculous.

Samantha appears in front of me. There’s a red cup in her hand. “Where did Rob go?” She sounds both curious and demanding.

“To get me something to drink.” I home in on the plastic cup she’s holding, and realize her breath is too sweet. “You’re drinking?”

“Oh stop. It’s Coke. I need something to keep me from puking.”

A boy shifts through the crowd to stop beside us. He’s tall with light hair and he’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. “Hey, Samantha,” he calls over the music. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She blinks at him. “Um. Hi.”

“Craig.” He hesitates, and any confidence slides out of his expression. “Ah … from Taco Taco.”

“Hi, Craig,” I say.

He gives me a kind smile. “Hi.” He looks back at my sister and runs a hand through his hair. “Do you … ah, would you like to dance?”

“Maybe a little later?” Sam hooks her arm through mine. “I was going to dance with my sister.”

She hauls me into the throng of dancing people.

I’m not a great dancer, but I can hold my own. “You’re kind of rude to him,” I say to her.

“He’s too nice, Megs.”

“Sure, that’s what you’ve got too many of.” I roll my eyes. “Nice boys.”

“What?” she calls over the music.

“Never mind.” We move to the beat, and it starts to pull some of the tension out of my body. No one knows me here. No one cares who I am.

They know who Rob is, though.

The instant I have the thought, the worry comes roaring back. He went alone to get me a drink. I shouldn’t have let him go by himself.

But then Samantha smiles and takes me by the shoulders and turns me around. Rob is pushing through the dancers, and I all but end up walking straight into him. I have to put a hand on his chest to steady myself.

Hi, Rob.

I haven’t had a sip, but I feel like I’m already drunk.

He presses a closed can of ice-cold beer into my free hand. He leans down to talk. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Of course.” I don’t really want it, but I also don’t want to reject it after he went to get it for me.

“I was going to open it for you, but I know girls are sometimes particular about that.”

He smells so good that I can barely register what he’s saying. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” I quickly snap the top and take a deep swallow. I’m already warm from dancing, and the beer goes down easily. Too easily.

Rob’s eyebrows go up.

Samantha whoops from behind me, but then reaches out to take it from me. “You need to be hot and dancing,” she calls, then starts dancing away, taking the beer with her. “Not unconscious on the floor.”

Now I’m blushing. I hope he can’t tell.

Rob moves closer. We’re kind of moving to the music, but not dancing. Not touching. He leans in. “It’s nice that Sam looks out for you.”

“She has her moments.” I don’t know how fast half a can of beer can hit you, but my brain feels like it’s tripping over itself. “Thanks for the drink. I was worried about you.”

He’s closer suddenly. Still not touching, but I can feel his warmth. “Worried?”

“I know you’re anxious about being here.”

He makes a face. “I ducked in, grabbed a beer, and walked out. It was okay.” Half a shrug. “And now we’re in the dark and dancing. It makes for a good cover.”

Does that mean I make for a good cover? I’m so off-balance. I still have no idea where I stand with Rob.

I have plenty of ideas where he stands with me. A lot of them involve taking his shirt off. Some of them involve him taking off mine.

Okay, I’m definitely feeling the beer.

The music changes, shifting into something pulsing and sensual, with a beat I can feel all the way through my body. Rob doesn’t ask me to dance; he takes my hand and spins me into the music. The bodies around us become a blur. I can’t seem to focus on anything but his eyes, dark and shadowed and fixed on mine. His hands brush my waist, my hips, my shoulders, but never more. Just enough to drive me crazy.