The following week goes by in a blur, and before I know it, the weekend has arrived once again, but this time, I’m pre-prepared for Cam and her grilling.
The slamming of the front door has me scurrying from the bathroom so fast that I slip, but I dart a hand out just in time to keep me from hitting the floor. Once I’m back to standing upright, it takes all I’ve got to keep from laughing.
Quickly tightening my robe around my waist, I ease my way into the living room and lower onto the couch, while Cam hastily shoves shit into the fridge.
“Hey!” Cam shouts, hearing me enter. “I ran into the little store on campus, paid a million dollars, but got stuff for breakfast, figured we’d camp out on the couch all day tomorrow, brunch it up.”
She doesn’t wait for a response as she dashes past me without a glance, rushing into her bedroom. Her closet door hits the frame, and the click of hangers has my knee bouncing. Not a minute later, she’s moving toward the bathroom in her bra and underwear, a coral dress half over her head, muffling her words behind the stretchy material as she tries to tug it on.
I knew she was coming home before she headed out for the night; she had told me so after tonight’s game. I had decided not to hang around to congratulate the guys this time, opting for a text in our group thread instead, and came home with the dorm crew again while she found a few friends from her classes to wait with.
Cam slips out of her room a few seconds later, and falls onto the couch beside me, shoving her feet into a pair of gold wedges. “So, I’m meeting Trey tonight for drinks at Screwed Over Rocks, it should be fun…” She throws me a hint but doesn’t look up.
“I’m sure it will be. You always seem to have a good time with him.”
“Yeah.” She pulls on the left wedge. “I guess the team’s having a little party at the house, but he’s not feeling it so…”
I bite back a grin. “Yeah, Mason texted me a few minutes ago letting me know.”
“Oh.” Cam pushes to her feet, her annoyance clear as she stomps toward the door.
I almost get nervous, but my friend doesn’t fail me, she never has. Never will.
She pauses the moment her hand wraps around the knob, her shoulders falling. “You could come, Ari. Chase won’t be there.”
Finally, Cameron looks over at me, her downcast eyes meeting mine. It only takes half a second, and then she’s whipping around with a frown. “What the fuck?”
I bust up laughing and literally hop up on the cushions as I tear my robe wide open.
Her hands shoot up.
“Hold up, are you… what are you doing?” She takes in my made-up face, commercial worthy curls, and slinky, mid-thigh plum dress, the one she picked out for me the last time we went shopping.
“What am I doing?” I jump over the side of the couch, slipping my feet into the heels I put at the edge of it, and smile. “I’m going to get drunk with my best friend.”
“Yeah?” she whispers, her eyes growing glossy.
I could punch myself for it, but instead, I bite back my own emotions and nod. “Yeah.”
Cameron squeals, tackles me, and then we’re both falling back onto the couch.
Once we’re standing again, she sighs, and then smacks me with her wristlet.
“Never again, Arianna Johnson. I will fuck you up if you even try.” She glares, but her eyes are full of unshed tears, and her voice drops ten octaves. “You were scaring me.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I still need to get my head straight, but right now, I need to have some fun more.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying. Get out of your head.”
I link my arm through hers. “Think you can help me with that, bestie?”
“Oh, hells yeah!” She smiles, tugging me forward.
With that, we’re out… but not before pausing at the counter for a quick pre-party shot.
Screwed Over Rocks is a student bar a few blocks up from campus, and from what they told us at orientation, they’re sticklers about the drinking age, but looking around, I’m pretty sure it’s a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ operation when it comes to fake IDs. Meaning, show an ID that says you’re legally allowed to drink and in you go.
This is my first time here, but I already know I’ll want to come back.
The place is wide open and relaxing with a dance floor that spreads across the entirety of the square room. There are tables lining both the left and right walls, allowing for some to sit back and relax. Or perv.
There’re typical barstools that line the curved bar top, stretching along the back corner, and the lights hanging above let off a soft red glow, an alluring contrast against the gold glitter infused, black-tiled floor.
The DJ is isolated in the farthest corner of the bar, and the sound system allows for the melody to be heard in various volumes throughout it: thunderous in the center of the dance floor, soft and airy near the tables and clear and raw at the sides of the bar.
Cam stretches her neck and advances forward, my hand in hers. “Come on! He’s over there!”
When we reach him, Trey smiles brightly, tells us how nice we look, and immediately places a shot in our hands.
“What is it?” I ask him, eyeing the dark liquor.
“It’s your fun juice, girl. Heard you needed it.” He holds out two limes.
I pin a glare on Cameron, and she shrugs, not waiting for me before downing her own shot. She bites into the lime and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking at me.
“You gonna deny it, sweet cheeks?” She grins, her head tilted.
Popping a brow, I throw mine back, loudly knocking my glass on the bar top with a grin. “Nope.” I toss my lime at her, and she laughs, her eyes lighting up with excitement from just having me with her.
I love my best friend
“I’m going to dance!”
“Atta girl! Meet you out there!” Cam shouts while Trey calls for another round.
The minute my feet hit the center of the dance floor, where the music’s blaring the loudest, the rush takes over, and instantly, I feel better than I have in weeks.
My lungs open, and even though I’m in the middle of a growing crowd, I can breathe.
Two songs come and go and then Cam and Trey join me, fists full of liquor.
We knock back two more shots.
An hour or so in, I’m feeling good. My smile grows a little lazy, my body the perfect amount of loose, my mind on nothing but the beat blaring around me.
I look over to find Cam watching me, her back pressed against Trey’s front.
I reach out, squeezing her wrist, and she jumps at me, making me laugh as she wraps her hands around my neck.
She gets my message.
Thank you, friend.
“I love you, biatch!” she shouts, louder than necessary in my ear, and we laugh, separating from one another.
Trey puts his arm around her middle, and my eyes flit from his arm to hers.
She shrugs, biting back a smile.
Trey catches it, but lets his smirk fly free. “Another?” he asks.
“Might as well do it right.” I shrug. “And a water?”
“You got it.”
“I’ll go with, back in a minute.” She blows me a kiss, and they slink away.
“I’ll be right here.”
I keep dancing, swaying my hips to the music, enjoying every minute of freedom the music offers me.
When the song closes out and the DJ changes tracks, I give myself a mental fuck yes, and let my body lead me into more seductive movements as Ariana Grande’s “Dangerous Women” plays in the background.
Two verses in and someone joins me from behind, his shadow wide, enveloping me completely. While the heat of my new dance partner’s body is ridiculously present, he doesn’t slip closer, hovering the smallest bit away instead, and it’s as if a switch is flicked.
My heart rate spikes, my body warming. I grin into the dim room and keep moving to the music, my hands gliding along my ribs as I softly sing the song to myself.
Strong hands come up to cover mine then; he’s not actually touching my body, but he uses the position of my own hand to press just below my belly button, bringing me closer to him.
I allow it, feeling the provocative rhythm of the song as it courses through me, and when his fingers span out on top of mine, I lace them together.
I test my dance partner, swaying my hips one way, while rolling my shoulders another, making an ‘S’ like shape with my back. My head sways slightly with my movements, and my god, he keeps up, matching every twist and turn of my body with his own. Not once does he have to pause, pull back or readjust. We’re in perfect sync.
It’s intoxicating. Cathartic.
It’s exactly what I needed, a fresh, healthy way to release all my pent-up emotions without breaking down and bawling my eyes out.
Simultaneously, my chin lifts as his dips, but only the slightest bit, his warm breath now feathering across the sweat-slicked skin at the nape of my neck. It’s as if fire meets ice and has me gasping. I’d swear his chest swelled at the sound.
He pulls our joined hands away from my body, lifting them above my head, his fingers never once leaving my skin. He trails them oh so slowly down my form, until he reaches my hips. Abandoned in the air, somehow my hands know what to do, know what he wants them to do.
They dance down in time with the beat, my fingertips meeting the tips of his short, soft hair. While my right hand glides across his neck, latching on there, my left lowers, now clasped over his strong knuckles this time.
His grip on my hips twitches in response, and my body decides to push into his in return, my head falling back, the sudden weight unbearable.
As if sensing my next move, his right hand flies up, gently stopping me from looking his way.
He can’t see my face, but somehow senses my pout, his chuckle giving him away, and my eyes close, soaking up the deep, raspy sound.
His smile is evident in the way he breathes, his amusement in the way he’s dancing. It’s as if his exhilaration runs through my own veins, and when he unlinks his hand from mine, sprawling his fingers across my ribs, his curiosity is written in the way his heart beats, peaking my own.
I want to see you.
He knows I do, so when the song rolls into another, it’s no surprise we both stop moving.
My toes curl in my heels as I begin to pull from his grasp, but I’m rooted in place in the next second when his lips press gently to the edge of my ear.
“You can turn around now, beautiful.” He speaks in a deep whisper, and an airy sensation whirls through me.
I suck in a breath, biting my lower lip as I turn, but I don’t short myself of the fun by darting straight for his face; instead, I drop my gaze slightly, coming eye-level with a strong, corded neck, tan skin and the collar of a simple gray T-shirt. I don’t tip my chin but allow my gaze to travel down as much as the position allows, finding a hint of ink settled under his right sleeve.
His hand lifts from his side then, and I admire the way his muscles grow more pronounced. He chuckles again, and I close my eyes, readying for the touch I sense is coming, and it does.
Strong, rough to the touch fingers press on the underside of my chin. He gives a small nudge, wordlessly asking for my attention, and my lids fly open.
His jaw is firm and flawlessly curved, his lips drawn into a side smirk, but not the kind that says he’s full of himself. It’s soft, charming.
Familiar?
His chest rises with a full breath then, his free hand twitching beside me, and finally, my eyes rise.
When I meet an open metallic blue gaze, I stop breathing.
He doesn’t say a word, just stares unblinking, and when his mouth hooks higher, I snap out of it, my wide smile breaking free.
He laughs, allowing his hand to fall to his side. “Hi, Juliet.”
“Noah.”
