An Optimist's Guide to Heartbreak (Heartsong #1)(72)
“Are you asking me how to have sex?”
“I think so.”
Grinning, she slides her index finger through the circle she made with her opposite hand, then pumps it in and out a few times. “It’s not a Power Point presentation, but you get the gist.”
“Not that part,” I practically choke. “The other stuff. Everything else.”
She drops her arms to her sides with a pitying sigh, her smile softening. “You just go with it, Lucy. Don’t overthink anything. Cal seems like the ‘take charge’ type, so I’m sure he’ll steer you around the curves.” She hesitates, head cocking. “Wait, does he know you’re a virgin?”
I gulp, swallowing hard. “Yes, I told him.”
“And he’s cool? Some guys are weird about it.”
“I think so. He said it made him want me even more.”
She starts fanning herself. “Stick a fork in me. Okay. Well, it’s going to be amazing and perfect, got it? Don’t worry. Don’t stress.” Reaching for her purse, Alyssa shoves her hand inside and pulls out a foil-wrapped square. “Here, take this just in case.”
I stare at it like it’s the peak of Mount Chimborazo and she told me to start climbing. Blinking at the condom, I take it with shaky fingers and bury it inside my clutch, zipping it up. “Thanks.”
I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to go through with it for the same reasons I haven’t been able to up until this point. But, I’m not sure how much longer I can avoid it, either. We feel imminent. Fated. Two live wires dodging and deflecting until the only thing left to do is combust.
Alyssa grips my shoulders and leans in close, her smile wide. “I’ve been waiting for this moment,” she tells me. “You being in charge of the spicy stories for once.”
The heaviness falls away for a moment, and I release a laugh. “I do owe you.”
“You do.” She pulls me in for a hug. “You have to tell me everything. Every tawdry detail.”
We pull apart, and I take a moment to fluff my hair in the mirror and apply a smear of bubblegum lip balm over my faded red lip stain, my inhibitions floating off into the deep end.
No more shallow water.
Alyssa drags me from the bathroom a few minutes later, straight onto the dance floor. An upbeat song is playing—Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody. Typically, I wouldn’t be nearly intoxicated enough to let loose, but since I’m drunk on something else, I zone out and let the music mix with adrenaline, the rhythm fusing with the prospect of turning indecision into resolve. Our bodies twist and writhe, hands in the air, our carefully coiffed hair flying in every direction. Gemma and Knox join us, along with Leslie and a few other spirited strangers, and we all go wild beneath multicolored strobes and gleaming chandeliers.
The song gradually morphs into something softer, something low-key and romantic, and Gemma and Knox pull together for a slow dance while Alyssa and Leslie tipsily dance with each other.
Before I can sneak away from the blooming romance in the air, Cal is beside me, a hand curling around my waist. I fly around to face him, sheened in a light sweat. My smile brightens. “Are we dancing?” I ask as we fall into an organic rhythm.
He smiles back. “Aren’t we always?”
I melt against his chest as his arms envelop me, sighing into his dress shirt. My hands travel upward, latching onto his biceps while we undulate to a dreamy country song. “I suppose we are,” I murmur. I’m not sure he can hear my muffled response, but he pulls me tighter anyway.
His hand strokes up and down my spine, gently fisting my hair, before repeating the motion. Our feet are hardly moving. We just sway. Our bodies feel like a single entity as we rock ever so slightly, and my eyes close as I breathe him in. Earthy musk, bourbon cologne, oaky notes. Masculine, overpowering, potentially lethal.
Cal’s heartbeats thrum against my ear as I press my cheek to his chest. He inhales a flimsy breath that mimics my own as a child shakes a jingle bell bracelet at a nearby table.
“Want to know why I have those jingle bells at the shop?”
My breath all but stops as I open my eyes and wait.
The jingle bells shake again.
“Every time that door would open, I’d think of you.”
A wall of tears blanket my vision. I squeeze him tighter for fear of falling; for fear of truly falling. “Really?” I squeak out.
He nods, his chin resting atop my head. “Yeah, really. You used to wear a jingle bell necklace for every day in December. I’d be doing homework in my bedroom, and those little bells would chime each time you’d pace the room, run down the hallway, or have a dance party with Emma. Always made me smile.”
I can’t cry. I won’t cry.
Cal just admitted that he’s thought about me, all while I’ve lived in a lonely reality of thinking he’d forgotten me. I force back the deadly waves of emotion threatening to yank me under and bury my face into his chest. I feel his heartbeats kick up, and he bends down to gather me closer still, nuzzling his stubble against the sensitive curve of my neck.
“I know I said I was going to back off,” he murmurs right into my ear. “But I assure you…this is me using an unbearable amount of restraint.”
Me, too.
Me goddamn too.
I’m only partly aware of the song ending and guests jumping into livelier dance moves as the beat picks up, but we continue to hold each other for a few more minutes, swaying, remembering, wanting. Wanting more than what I’ve allowed.