Life In Reverse(42)

“Hey, I got you a Corona.” Julian sets the beer in front of me and I take a long pull, hoping to wash down this strange discomfort. “Is that steam I see coming out of your ears?” He grins, clicking his bottle against mine. “Cheers.” He rests his back against the wall, arm draped over the top of the booth. “This is… different for you. I’m kind of liking it. It’s about time you let someone in.”

I balk. “I haven’t let anyone in.”

“I beg to differ on that.” He lifts his wrist and glances at his watch. “It only took you two point five hours to show up.” He sips his beer then circles the bottle in the air. “Seriously, Vance. She’s a great girl.”

My eyes seek her out and I tug on my earring. “I know that. But… I also know I’m not good for her and nothing can happen.” I flash to Julian’s face, a blank slate, as if what I’m about to say is rote. “She’ll end up with a broken heart.”

“You don’t know that. And you can’t keep living your life like this. No one can predict the future. Besides, right now,” he lifts his head toward the dance floor, “you could be the one dancing with her instead of that *. It’s one dance.” He emphasizes. “What harm could it do?”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

I think about it for maybe ten seconds before I submit. “Shit. Okay, one dance,” I agree, and his lips slide into a grin.

“God, I’m good.” He gloats as I stalk off, barreling my way through the crowd.

I know how stupid this is. I keep telling myself this as I dodge drinks being spilled over the rims of glasses, hands slapping together in a series of drunken high-fives. This. Is. Stupid. The words continue to rattle around in my brain until I spot Ember. Her mouth drops open in surprise when her eyes land on me, cheeks lifting in a smile that encompasses her whole face. How could anything about that be stupid?

“Can I cut in, Mickey?”

“Mickey?” The blond guy’s way-too-thick eyebrows edge higher as he steps back. “I thought your name was Ember.”

“Private joke,” I mutter and he sneers, his beady eyes flicking between us.

“Whatever,” he mumbles as he wanders off, and Ember cracks up. My eyes scroll to the Mickey Mouse emblem at the bottom of her t-shirt.

“Not the sharpest tool in the shed, is he?”

“Nope.” She places her hands on her narrow hips and stares me down. It makes me want to break into a laugh because she’s trying hard not to smile—almost too hard. Her stance and expression are at complete odds with one another. “What are you doing here, Davenport?”

“I was in the neighborhood.” I hold out my hand and she doesn’t hesitate, curling her fingers around mine. “Now let’s dance.”

She loops her arms around my neck and mine settle around her waist. I breathe in her peach scent and something that is uniquely Ember, while her green eyes examine my face as if she’s searching for evidence. Of what, I don’t know. But if anyone can find it, it’s definitely her. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

“I don’t… usually,” I add, my lips twisting into a grin.

“Wow. I feel special.”

“That’s because you are.” The words slip out, but the way her eyes light up leave me without an ounce of regret.

She draws back further, scrutinizing me. Her gaze is unwavering and the hairs on my arms prickle. I know she can see me and it scares me to death. I swallow, trying to calm the fear rolling around my stomach and hoping to keep it at bay—if only for a little while.

Her gorgeous eyes narrow into fine slits. “What are you up to?”

“You ask too many damn questions, Mickey.”

“Well,” she scoffs, her ponytail flapping behind her, “maybe I wouldn’t ask so many questions, if you’d just answer them the first time.”

“Fine,” I concede on a giant breath. “I needed to get out of the house and this seemed like a good place to do it. Happy?”

“Very.” She rests her cheek on my shoulder. A minute later, her warm breath coasts over my ear. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I’m unable to reply because my own breath catches in my throat. The feel of her this close to me is pretty f*cking amazing. My body wants to gravitate to hers, push closer, but I resist. Straining behind my zipper is a massive hard-on that I’m trying to conceal. I don’t want her thinking that’s what this is about—because it’s not. If it was, I could easily find someone to relieve it. Whatever this is, I don’t want to destroy it—because it already means something to me.

Wisps of fine hair brush against my chin as we sway back and forth, our bodies completely in sync. Another slow song plays and we continue to hold each other, neither of us anxious to let go. At one point Ember leans back, her eyes focused on mine. Her full lips too close, but not close enough.

“So, sex in the bathroom, huh? And a Hooters girl no less.”

“Jesus.” I look up at the grimy ceiling, grasping for a nonexistent defense to the truth. My gaze floats back down. “That was a few years ago.”

“Yes. So I’ve been told.” Her cheeks tinge pink and a burst of laughter flies from her mouth. I decide that might be my favorite sound.