Crush(137)

Aerie stopped to put her devil horns on, and I glanced around the large room recognizing a lot of students, while trying to get a look at the band. I shouted directly into her ear, “They sound really good. Have you heard them before?”

She was on her toes trying to see over the crowd. I laughed at how short she was until her pointy devil horn hit me in the eye. “No, but I love their sound,” she responded, still trying to see the stage and almost falling over.

I had been coming here for the last three years and couldn’t ever remember it being so crowded. I could barely see the long wooden bar to my right, and with the mass of bodies bumping and grinding on the dance floor, I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the stage.

“Do you know their name?” I asked Aerie.

“I think they’re called the Wilde Ones,” she hiccupped and laughed. She winked at me as she started to dance her way toward some friends on the dance floor and yelled over her shoulder, “By the way, I love them! Great name and an even greater sound.”

“I’ll get drinks and meet you out there in a bit,” I said to no one since she was already gone. When the bartender acknowledged me, I ordered two beers, one with ice and one without, and tacked on two shots to help Aerie drown her misery.

The live music stopped and typical Halloween songs were blasted through the speakers. I turned my back to the bar and scanned the crowd for Aerie. You would think she would be easy to spot in her red sequin devil costume. She said she was out for vengeance and if her outfit was any indication, she would be vindicated.

I didn’t see her anywhere but I did spot an attractive guy. He was still too far away for me to zero in on any specific feature, but something—no, everything—about him drew my attention.

I watched how he moved; his confidence captivated me. He seemed relaxed, like he knew exactly where he was going. And as he headed in my direction, I became mesmerized. Biting my bottom lip, I was unable to focus on anything but him. My head was still a little foggy from the three beers I’d consumed earlier and I was clearly not thinking straight when I made eye contact with him, and then slowly studied his body from head to toe.

As the distance between us narrowed, I could see that he was alarmingly attractive: long, lean, and muscular but not bulky. He wore a black beanie hat with his light brown hair sticking out. When I looked into his eyes, they undid me. Although I couldn’t see their color, I could feel their intensity. I almost feared that if I looked into them for too long I might never walk away. His eyes aside, the words handsome and gorgeous weren’t strong enough adjectives to describe this man.

My mind wandered to where it shouldn’t. Knowing better than to compare this guy to my boyfriend, I did it anyway. I felt incredibly guilty, but I couldn’t help myself. Ben was all surfer. He was attractive, hot, and sexy with an ego to match. This guy was equally as attractive, hot, and sexy, but there was something else—something more. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Easing his way through the crowd, he removed his beanie and ran his hands through his hair. When our eyes connected it felt like minutes, but only seconds passed. Suddenly I felt an electric pull forcing me to keep looking at him. Everything I felt indicated he was dangerous. I knew I should look away, walk away, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. He was just too alluring.

He was finally close enough that I could tell his gleaming eyes were green. I was instantly drawn to his smile. It wasn’t a full smile, more like a half grin emphasizing his dimples. His skin was smooth with no facial hair and that made me weak in the knees. His full lips were begging for a kiss. I’d never looked at a guy like this before, not even Ben. So why was I eyeing him this way, and why was I unable to avert my gaze?

Aside from his overall sex appeal, his clothing made him even more irresistible. He wore faded jeans, a black Foreigner concert T-shirt, and black work boots. I had to laugh a little when I saw the concert T-shirt because I was wearing one, too—my dad’s U2 T-shirt, knotted on the side, hanging off my shoulder.

Having made his way through the crowd much better than I had, he was now standing in front of me. His face was breathtaking; he had a strong chin, a small straight nose, perfectly shaped eyebrows, and long eyelashes. He was a vision of utter perfection and I couldn’t help but smile.

The bar was crowded and there was no room on either side of me. Putting both hands in his pockets, he smiled back at me. Then, running his tongue over his bottom lip, he asked in a low, sexy voice, “Were you staring at me?”

I pouted my lips and rolled my eyes. I took a deep breath as I straightened my shoulders and placed my hands on my hips, “No, I was just looking for my friend while I waited on my drinks. You just happened to be in my line of vision.”

He chuckled a little then said, “That look was hot.”

I huffed out a breath and tried not to laugh. Did he really just say that?

When the bartender brought my order and set it in front of me, my phone started ringing in my pocket, but I ignored it as I continued to stare at him. “Why would you think I was looking at you, anyway?”

As the person beside me settled her tab and walked away, he moved to fill the empty space and tossed his beanie next to my drink. His proximity caused my pulse to race and my heart to pound faster. Leaning sideways, he rested his hip against the bar. With his eyes still locked on mine he answered, “Because I was staring at you, hoping you were staring back.”