“It’s gotta be Marie.”
She’s sighs in frustration. “I don’t have a middle name. My name is just Lucy Alvarez. That’s all.”
I let out an audible gasp. I can’t help it. “You’re shitting me.”
She rolls her eyes. “As much fun as that sounds, no, Caleb, I am not shitting you.”
“Ok, ok. We can fix this. I’m creative. Hmmm… Lucy Matilda. You like that? Nah. Ok...um, Lucy Rebecca? Lucy Josephine?”
Infuriated and frustrated and, for the record, also fucking hot, she turns quickly and starts to stalk off, nearly plowing right into a couple of drunk guys, but I catch her around the waist just in time. Pulling her back, my hand brushes her torso, skimming just under her top. I hold my breath, steady her, and let go. She’s still a little dazed, it seems, because she leans in close to me, like her body misses contact with mine. Same, Lucy. Fucking same.
“How about Lucy Lou? That’s cute,” I tease, unable to resist needling her.
“You can’t just middle name me! That’s not how this works. You are not my dad, for heaven’s sake.”
“Would you like that, Lucy Jane? You want me to be your daddy?” It’s not my kink, as far as I know, but the look on her face is priceless.
“Caleb Whitman, you make me crazy.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I tell her as another stream of partygoers rush into the hallway. We’re basically trapped in a corner now, not that I mind. Someone jostles her, and she bumps into me, but the brush of her chest on mine does fuck-all to diffuse the warmth coursing through my veins. “But a long time ago, I used to make you pretty happy, too.”
She looks up at me, and I just smile before moving my body to the music. “Rumpshaker” is a classic and the song fits Lucy to a T. “Dance with me,” I coax. “We used to dance together. Remember?”
She nods. “Yea. I do. I just…I wasn’t sure you’d remember me. I mean, I knew you’d remember me, but…It’s been a really long time, and...”
I stop her right there, my finger poised over her lips. “I remember everything.” I say, leading her back out to the dance floor and shaking what my mama gave me.
“Have you lost your mind?” she asks, but there’s a smile on her face.
“According to the hospital records at St. Mark’s, yes. Last winter.” She looks away as my joke crashes and burns. It’s clear she’s heard about the night I took enough sleeping pills for a week, but apparently, that doesn’t pass for small talk.
“Caleb,” she admonishes.
“Joking. Jeez, so sensitive.”
She says nothing but starts to sway her hips to the music. She moves tentatively, as though she doesn’t trust her body to find the rhythm. I grip her small hands in mine and lead her. But just as I’m about to spin her and dip us both low to the ground, the song ends and a slow one begins. Fuck me and my perfect playlist. That segue is smooth as hell, if I do say so myself.
Lucy pauses, and for a minute, I’m sure she’s going to bolt again. But to my complete surprise, she leans into our embrace and moves her hands to grip my arms. It’s crazy; this is what I’ve wanted since hormones started coursing through my body, but I freeze for a moment before I get my head in the game and hold her close as the slow song plays.
“You sure you don’t like dancing?” I tease, my voice a hoarse whisper. Her responding smile shoots through me like electricity.
We get lost in the moment, in each other. When we bicker and bitch at each other, there’s an intensity that crackles between us. That same intensity hums through the air now, though we’re both quiet. Music fills the air, but instead of singing, I put my mouth to better use by leaning down and brushing a kiss across her soft lips. She presses her body into mine, and I welcome the warmth. We kiss and nip at each other’s mouths. Soft, sweet kisses become hungry, open-mouthed ones and I’m hard as fuck in this stupid hallway, my arms wrapped around Lucy, holding her close and never wanting to let her go.
I breathe her in, completely intoxicated by her scent when the music stops abruptly and the mic squeals. That nasty reverb shriek has me shivering, and my blood boils as some asshole starts shouting into my mic. No doubt he’s about to fuck shit up.
I lean down to drop a kiss to Lucy’s forehead. I grasp for her hand. There’s no way I’m leaving her here. She can come along for the field trip to my deejay setup. This’ll take two minutes, but I’m not leaving her side for a second.
* * *
Lucy
He’s packed up his laptop and signed deejay duties over to a guy I’ve never seen before. Before I can protest that it’s time for me to leave anyway, he’s high-fiving the stranger, and leading me toward the door.
I hate to admit it, but he’s beautiful in all his golden-retriever glory. That sandy hair, that perfect smile. So eager to please, so deserving of love and affection.
None of this was in my plan tonight. I was supposed to be here for an hour or two. Make an appearance, appease Alyssa.
Right now, I should be on my couch, indulging in a bowl of ice cream and working on my agenda for next week.
