Page 17 of Thanks for Coming Along
"Oh!" she yelped, looking down at herself before meeting his gaze again, her eyes wide. A rosy flush spread from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Ronan couldn't help but wonder if that blush extended to other, less visible parts of her body.
"Gotcha, I'll change, and I should have some sweatpants that might fit you."
He paced around her living room, attempting to distract himself from the intrusive thoughts that threatened to consume him. Images of her struggling to peel the clinging fabric from her drenched body played in his mind, and he quickly shifted his focus to the art on the walls, examining each painting as if he were an art critic.Dangerous.These thoughts were dangerous.
A few minutes later, she mercifully returned in dry clothes and handed him a pair of sweats and a white T-shirt. He nodded his thanks and retreated to the bathroom to change. Inside, he took a deep breath, reminding himself that this attraction didn't change anything.
First off, he was a professional—he wasn’t about to let personal feelings mess up the interview. Sure, Eden was gorgeous, funny, and ridiculously charming, but wasn’t that just her effect on everyone?
Secondly, she had a boyfriend, not just any boyfriend, but one who could suplex him into the next universe for even having these types of thoughts. Ronan knew he could hold his own in a fight, but he had no desire to tempt fate with a brawl against a superhero. Whether or not Quentin was just acting in those roles, he surely looked the part, and Ronan had no intention of finding out if those were just mirror muscles.
He looked into the mirror and pointed at himself. "You will not have romantic feelings for Eden. She is your colleague, and you are a professional." He whispered harshly to his reflection, his eyes seeming to whisper, "Keep telling yourself that."
Ronan peeled off his drenched clothes and hung them carefully over the shower rod to dry. He pulled on the hot pink sweatpants that stopped above his ankles and shook his head in disbelief. The seams of the sweatpants looked about right to bust, and he found himself delicately trying to adjust himself to avoid an awkward situation. He yanked on the t-shirt that Eden had handed him, which was luckily white. He saw a quick flash of the graphic on the front of the shirt in the mirror. The Spice Girls logo in glitter font. He loved the Spice Girls as much as the next person, but the glitter felt over the top.
When he opened the bathroom door, he heard the beat of "Spice Up Your Life" by none other than the Spice Girls. Eden was holding in her laughter as she filmed his exit from the bathroom withhiscamera.
"Wow, you look incredible. The high water pink pants really put this look over the top." Eden said as she panned the camera to his bare ankles, and unshed tears of laughter lined her eyes. "Turn around, I need to get your butt." Ronan couldn't help but groan.
"Butt? Please tell me there isn't a font on my ass," he implored.
"Oh, not just any font, my friend, but 'STOP LOOKING AT MY BUTT'. It's the epitome of couture fashion," she quipped, making a playful turn-around gesture with her finger. Ronan obliged with a reluctant turn.
"That ass is next level, it should be displayed in the Louvre alongside the Mona Lisa. Leonardo da Vinci himself would shed tears at this unveiling." He looked over his shoulder and watched her zoom in even closer to get a severe closeup of his butt. One thing was sure, she was 100% spicing up his life.
"Drop the camera. You are a menace to society!" His tone was filled with feigned indignation. Eden willingly handed the camera over to him, and he placed it on the kitchen countertop.
"Gosh, you are definitely 'Baby spice' if you were a spice girl. I am 'Posh spice,' obviously," Eden responded with a grin.
"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night." Ronan rolled his eyes with a smirk. Then, without warning, Eden began to dance, moving to the rhythm of the music. She extended her hand toward Ronan.
"Come on, Baby spice, let's see those dancing moves." Ronan hesitated for a moment.
"I'm not much of a dancer," he admitted, feeling a little out of his depth. Spontaneous dancing wasn’t his thing—he wasn't about to start busting moves like it was a flash mob audition.
"I love dancing! It’s like a celebration of music," Eden said, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. That spark in her gaze chipped away at his already weak resolve. How could he say no to her? If dancing made her happy, he could play along—just this once.
He knew it was probably a bad idea, but stopping felt impossible. He’d already had a taste of how electric it was being close to her, and now he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to resist. Worse yet, he wasn’t sure if he even could.
As the music pulsed through the room, an overpowering urge overtook him, and he seized her hand, guiding her into a graceful spin. Her laughter rang out as he pulled her closer. He felt her body meld into him as her arms went up on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but notice how perfectly she fit with him. Her movements flowed with the rhythm, and his focus zeroed in on the sway of her hips. For a second, he forgot all about his hesitation, lost in the way they moved together.
The scent of her hair filled his senses. He tightened his grip on her firm waist, his fingers pressing on her body through the soft cotton of her t-shirt. Their faces hovered just inches apart. It seemed like an electric charge was palpable between them. Her warm breath grazed his lips, her closeness sending his heart racing.
"What is happening right now? Did I just walk into a scene from "Dirty Dancing"?" A shocked voice exclaimed. Eden jumped back at the sudden interruption, and Ronan dropped his hands guiltily. He knew he looked like a kid caught with his hands in the proverbial cookie jar. The music was blasting so loudly he must have missed the sound of the front door opening, and it seemed that Eden did, too.
"Oh, hey, Indy! We were just practicing our dance routine for the documentary," Eden said sarcastically as she walked over to a tall blonde woman standing at the front door. It was Ingrid, Eden's best friend. He recognized her from the photos Eden had shown him. Eden pulled her into a warm hug. Ingrid, her eyes still wide with surprise, hesitated before returning the hug.
"This is Ronan," Eden said with a beaming smile.
"Hello, Ronan," Ingrid said over Eden's shoulder, her eyes slightly narrowed at Ronan. "I didn't realize the documentary included dance sequences."
"Yeah, we were just having some fun," Eden chirped happily. "Come on in, I have some leftover Chinese food if you want," she said, gesturing toward the kitchen.
"Oh, it's late. Time just totally escaped us! I'm sure Ronan has to go," Eden remarked as she glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall.
"Yeah, I should head out. I know you're playing a festival tomorrow, so I'll meet you there?" Ronan said quickly and stiffly, collecting his items, trying not to draw attention to his outfit and his obvious erection.
"Yeah, Sloane overnighted you with a press badge. It should be in your mailbox when you get home," Eden mentioned as she stood casually against the frame of the doorway to her dining room. Ingrid, on the other hand, swiveled her head back and forth between the two, her curiosity thoroughly piqued. Ingrid then picked up her duffle bag and made her way toward Eden's room. "Bye, Ronan. Nice pants, by the way," Ingrid mumbled as she closed Eden's bedroom door.
