Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(15)
It was incredibly, incredibly hot.
The music was a perfect club mix, fast enough to be energizing, loud enough to feel the beat vibrating in your chest, sensual enough that those who were so inclined could dance closely, grinding against one another. We were definitely so inclined. The dancing was foreplay. We used it to tease ourselves, and by the time we had to stop to catch our breaths and drink our beers, the exercise of dancing wasn’t the only thing that had us sweaty and panting. My nerves were strung so taut from all his light touches that I thought I might come out of my skin, and the friction of my clothes was agonizing.
My hands already knew every contour of him. When his clothes came off, I knew exactly what I’d find beneath. “Compact” was still a good word for him. Also “solid.” By the way his weight was distributed, I bet he’d had a lot of baby chub when he was younger that had taken him a long time to shed. I also suspected it required a determined effort for him not to veer back toward the fluffy side. He’d probably lose that battle in another ten years or so.
Knowing that he’d been a chubby kid didn’t make him any less sexy, but it did make him more human, as though we might understand each other beyond this mind-blowing sexual chemistry. Maybe it was because I knew it was possible that, like me, he’d struggled to get to a place where he was at home in his own body and comfortable with his appearance, surrounded by cruel and judgmental people determined to ride him down for both.
It had gotten too loud in the club for talking, and for the first time that evening, sitting there silently with our beers wasn’t entirely comfortable. I should say something, strike up a conversation, get to know him better, but it was really too loud to—
“Would you like to go someplace quieter?”
I met his eyes across the table and gave an enthusiastic nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
We wound up going to sit by the pool. I’d half expected him to take me back to his room, but no. We really did want to talk.
If his friends were around, Jace didn’t acknowledge them. All his attention was on me, and frankly I wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone but him just now.
“What do you do?” I asked, ordering another beer from a passing server.
“Art of various kinds.” He leaned back in his chaise, folding his hands behind his head. I let my gaze pass up and down him, frankly admiring. Those leather pants did all the right things for him, and his shirt had come untucked (with a little assistance from my hands), revealing a slice of belly and a dark treasure trail I was really looking forward to tiptoeing down. “Right now I’m designing a set for a theater down in Chicago. I also do some graphic design, painting, sketching, even a bit of photography.”
“Ah.” My new beer arrived, cold and refreshing. I squeezed the lemon juice into the bottle and tipped it back, discarding the wedge. “A visual person.”
His grin had a bit of a lopsided tilt to it. “I take it you’re not?”
“Nope.” I shook my head, pursing my lips. “Can’t even draw a stick figure. I took an art elective in junior high once, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been that humiliated in my life. I know what looks good to me but I can’t begin to recreate it.”
“Nothing wrong with just being an admirer.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at me, and I wondered if he ever didn’t have a good time. He gave off that vibe—that he was always having fun, no matter where he was. “So, are you in school?”
“In theory.” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Whether I’ll be able to finish is another question.”
“Not doing well?”
“I, um, I’ve had a rough time the last year and a half. Finances are an issue, and if I don’t step it up, I could lose my scholarship. I’ll probably have to suck it up and go into hock with student loans. I just hate to do it because right now I’m not even sure what the purpose of my being in school is.”
He nodded, lacing his fingers across his chest and tapping his thumbs together. “You’re having trouble settling on a major you actually like.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, because it wasn’t. He just knew what the issue was.
“Exactly.”
“What would you be doing if you could study anything you wanted, no matter how impractical?”
“Musical theater.” No hesitation there.
“Your school doesn’t have a program for it?”
“They have a theater program, but not specifically musical theater. I auditioned for the program at Western but I didn’t get in.” I shrugged. “It was a long shot from the beginning. I knew that, I just had to try. I’m okay, but not good enough for that. When it comes to talent—except in the visual arts—I’m kind of in the jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none class, you know? Meh, okay singer, okay actor, okay dancer. I think I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve accepted my limitations, but I’m having a hard time letting go of the pipe dream and settling on something more grown-up to do.”
He frowned. “Twenty-one is a bit young to be talking about accepting limitations. The sky should be the limit for you right now, angel.”
Shit. Just what had convinced me that sitting down to talk was a good idea?
I smiled, shrugging it off. I would not go down that spiral again, not now, just a few days after Mo had brought it all up. “There are circumstances, and trust me, it’s better for me to be practical here. I just can’t seem to find anything else I actually care about.”