“I can make sure it’s there in the morning. I work out at five thirty, but I’m usually done by seven. Will you need it before then?” I ask, wondering how I can make this work for her. She shouldn’t be put out just because I hijacked her evening.
“Uh, that will be fine. My first class isn’t until nine.”
Before either of us can say anything, Sydney and Chloe return with some drinks for Abby to sample. After she’s taken a sip of the pink concoction, she moans in appreciation. “Oh… this is so yummy,” Abby cries over the music. “What is it?”
“Pink vodka lemonade,” Sydney replies. They each take another drink in appreciation. It must taste good if the expressions on their faces are anything to go by. They close their eyes and slowly sip the drink they’ve been handed.
“You can’t even taste the alcohol,” Abby gushes. “I think I finally found a drink I like.” The smile on her face is infectious, and I find myself grinning at her enthusiasm.
“That only makes it dangerous,” Chloe teases. “Be sure to pace yourself. I remember one night when these snuck up on me.” The look of disgust tells me there’s quite a story there, that doesn’t have a happy ending.
The song changes to one the girls must recognize because suddenly, they’re screaming and jumping out of the booth to dance in the center of the floor. I remain in the booth, watching over their drinks. Of course, my attention is focused on my lab partner and her friends as well. Her long, wavy hair flows in rhythm to the music as she dances gracefully. Each sway of her hips, each bop with the beat, has me looking at Abby in a whole new light. Gone is the plain, studious girl I left in the lab the day before. Left in her place is the intriguing woman I want to know better. Here I thought she wouldn’t be a distraction.I am so screwed.Abby’s gorgeous, and there’s nothing plain about her.
At one point, a slow song comes on, and both Sydney and Chloe are quickly asked to dance by a couple of guys who’d been watching them all night. Before Abby has a chance to be asked, she comes back to the booth and plops down.
“Whew! This is fun.” Her cheeks are rosy, and her eyes are bright with enthusiasm. “I totally get why people love going out to bars now.”
“Does that mean you’ll be doing this more often?” I ask teasingly.
“Every once in a while, sure. But I’m not turning into a barfly or anything. I don’t havethatmuch time on my hands.” She sips the last of her drink as she stares at her friends dancing with their partners.
The longing on her face makes me react before I have time to think of the ramifications. I snap to my feet and extend a hand. It’s the first time I’ve moved most of the night, not wanting to draw more attention to myself than necessary, but my intent is clear. I want to dance with her.
She shakes her head and looks around as if I should be asking someone else. But I assure her she’s the only one on my dance card for the evening when I state, “Come on. Let’s go have some fun!”
We make our way to the dance floor, and I draw her body close to mine. Taking one hand in mine, I place my other on her hip. Her free arm wraps naturally around my neck. I feel a slight tremble from Abby when my palm reaches the base of her back, but she relaxes when I guide her around the dance floor with ease.
I take a bit of pride in the fact I don’t allow Abby to just stand and sway to the music, like many of the couples out here on the dance floor. My freshman year, I was among the many men who signed up for American social dance as an elective. It might have started as a joke, but it’s left me with many skills and I have no regrets. I lead her around the dance floor like a pro, guiding her through spins, dips, as I shuffle to the music in sync with the beat. Abby dances effortlessly in my arms and has no problem keeping up. As the song ends, I spin her around once more, and she giggles. I just might have to keep her out here, so I can keep the euphoric grin on her face. I’ve never seen anyone look so free or beautiful for that matter, just by dancing.
Now that I’m out on the dance floor, Abby, Sydney, and Chloe don’t let me leave. At one point, I excuse myself to use the restroom. Unfortunately, a couple of jersey chasers try to corner me in the hallway on my return. I’m just about to say something to get them to back off when Abby shocks the shit out of me by appearing out of nowhere to rescue me.
“Excuse me, ladies.” She pushes between us as if she’s done this type of thing before. “Drew’s helping me celebrate my birthday.” Abby wraps an arm around me and gives them a pointed stare, showing their attention is unwelcomed. Then before I can take my next breath, she looks innocently up at me. “Syd and Chloe are waiting for us.”
I can’t help but be impressed. The jersey chasers back off without another word.
Abby’s the perfect combination of assertive and innocence wrapped into one.
As we walk to our table, Abby pulls my head down so she can whisper into my ear. The action alone has me burning with desire. “Are you ever going to tell me what all the fuss is about?”
What the hell is she talking about?“Fuss?”
“You know. Why people fawn over you and you can’t go out in public without causing a scene?” She rolls her eyes as if I should already know this.
“I play basketball.” I shrug.
She cocks her head, not buying it. “Are you any good?”
“You could say that.”
“You seem to be something special,” she whispers. Then she grazes my cheek with a kiss. I’m not usually a touchy-feely guy, but I crave contact with her.
What is it about this girl that has me wanting to spend more time with her?
After a few more dances and a couple more drinks, the girls decide to call it quits, and I take everyone home. I make a point to walk Abby to her door. Chloe and Sydney make themselves scarce as soon as we get to their apartment.
As much as I’m dying to kiss her, I won’t take advantage of her. From the look in her eyes, she wants more, too. Instead of making a move, I whisper the first thing to pop into my mind, “I hope you’ve had a happy birthday.”
“Thanks for everything.” She looks up into my eyes and rocks from her heels to her toes. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or nerves, but that bit of wobble reminds me I need to tread carefully. There’s been an undercurrent of chemistry zinging between us all night.
