Page 63 of Second Chance

28

1991

[Denton]

It’s prom night. Rented tuxedoes. Bright colored dresses. Dance music.

Chris and I planned the night. A hotel room down the ridge in Elton. Kristy and I would spend the night as we always do—hate fucking each other. We’d already gotten into a fight because my cummerbund didn’t match her dress properly. Then she wanted a certain corsage, and Tom’s Grocer didn’t have the kind of flower she wanted, so I got her roses instead. She was pissed.

Chris, on the other hand, had everything planned perfectly—a romantic evening of taking Mati’s virginity. I hated him, but I bit my tongue as I had for years.

“Hotel room. Check. Flowers. Check. Condoms. Check.” Chris claps his hands, rubbing them together. I want to kill him.

“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.” I try to tamper the bitterness in my voice.

“I just want it to be special for Mati. She deserves the best.” I don’t miss the hint of glee in his voice, or the candor. He thinks he’s better than me. I take a pull of the flask I have hidden in my jacket. In many ways, he’s right. He deserves her. They’ll settle down in a nice little house, with perfect little babies and become the next first couple of Blue Ridge—something I have no desire to be. I want out of this hellhole. A cross country road trip with Mati, and I’m out of here. I’ll send her back here with my car, but I’m not returning.

Another song winds up, and Mati saunters up to us, bouncing on her heels. She’s been dancing with some girls from the volleyball team. I’m happy to see her so energetic and springy. After her ankle injury, I worried she wouldn’t recover for the simple things like dancing. The broken ankle fucked up her scholarship, though, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.

“This is my song,” she shouts, tugging on Chris’s lapel. He lowers to kiss her, chaste and sweet, before glancing around to see if he’ll be caught kissing his long-term girlfriend. He’s not a risk taker like me. I’ve had Kristy in the boys’ locker room and the girls’ bathroom, both times while others could have seen us.

Mati’s pulling at his tux coat, and while he stumbles forward with the force, he’ll refuse her.

“Come dance.” She pouts. She has the cutest curl to her lip, and I don’t know how Chris denies her anything with that look. He’s held out on sex with her, but one look like that from her, and I’d be buried deep, giving her whatever she wanted from me.

“You know I can’t, baby,” he says to her sweetly, just like that too soft kiss he gave her. Mati’s a sexual being. I read it in her body language, and he’s holding her back for whatever reason. Noble? Maybe. A gentleman? Probably. He’s also an idiot for never learning to dance despite his inhibition. He’s among friends here. No one will laugh. Too much, at least.

“I’ll dance with you,” I offer, slipping my flask in my jacket and shucking it for the back of a chair. This is the one pleasure Chris allows me. He’ll let his wingman dance with his woman. He doesn’t seem to worry about me in this capacity. Mati pouts one more time at Chris before reaching for me. She squeals with a little girlish whoop, so unlike her, as she pulls me toward the dance floor. Instantly, I forget Chris and Kristy and everything but the girl shaking her hips and raising her arms before me. We fall into a rhythm, letting the beat guide us, and we dance like stars trained to compete. I love how Mati moves, and it’s another reminder of her sensuality.

The song shifts to a slower melody and the dance floor clears a little as the girls paired with girls find their dates, also refusing to dance to the heavier beat. A few couples step onto the floor, and Mati scans the room a second, searching for Chris. He’ll slow dance if she asks him.

“Dance with me?” I suggest, holding up my hand and stretching out my arm. Mati smiles and slowly steps into my space. Hands come to my shoulders, ignoring the formal stance of my dance and my hands come to her hips. It’s innocent enough except I can feel the curve of her hips, the silkiness of her dress hugging them, and the possibility she isn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Are you excited for our trip?” I ask, feeling the need to make conversation, although I typically find comfort in the silence of Mati as we take rides.

“I’m so excited,” she says. “It’s going to be amazing.”

Just the two of us from here to the West Coast and back. At least back for her, not for me.

I spin us, and Mati leans into me. Her hands slip up to my neck and mine wrap around her waist, landing at the base of her spine. The tempo of the song is simple. A one-two step of ease and Mati and I fall in line. The song is about never letting go and always loving someone. There’s something different about the way we move tonight, and my face lowers so my cheek presses next to hers, my breath tickling her ear. Her fingers dig at the curl of my hair near the nape of my neck. My hands lower to smooth over her hips. Mati presses against my chest. My lips can’t help themselves, and they brush against her ear.

“Denton,” she whispers, and my nose outlines the shell of her ear.

“Mati,” I exhale into it. I’ve got a problem. One I’ve had for years when I’ve thought of Mati. One that’s pressing into her lower belly because she’s so tight against me. My fingers grip her hips, tugging her gently to me. She doesn’t resist me. Her legs separate, and one slips on the other side of mine. I lift slightly, letting my upper thigh press against her core.

“Denton?” she questions, her voice low again. Our hips are in sync with one another. Back and forth. Back and forth. I want to let my head fall back and howl at the moon. She’s driving me crazy, pressing against my leg, her thighs tightening around mine. My fingers splay outward, cupping her hips in my hands. Her fingers have crawled upward, tugging slightly at the hair near the nape of my neck. I’m so turned on.

I pull back to look down at her—bark rich eyes, a touch of pink on her cheeks, a gloss on her lips. My forehead comes to hers, our breath mingling, and not for the first time I wonder what it would be like to be lost in those eyes, looking up at me as I bury myself inside her. We’d move together like one, our dancing proves it.

Suddenly, I’m aware of a presence next to me. Pulling back from Mati, I see Chris standing next to us. The music, faded in my ears, rushes back to life around me. It’s a new song, a fast one.

“Song’s over,” Chris says quietly, keeping his eyes on me. I release Mati, slipping one hand in my pocket to disguise the boner I have. My other hand rubs over my hair as my eyes lower. Shit. Chris looks pissed.

Mati’s hand slowly slips down my shoulder and removes from me. She steps forward to Chris.

“I love this song,” she says softly, trying to ease the tension between the three of us.

“I think I need a drink,” I mutter, scrubbing at the back of my neck.