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“Me neither. That crowd of spontaneous admirers I accumulated the second I arrived? I literally scared away every last member just by being myself.”
“Impressive.” He stares at the ground, uncertain.
I put a finger to his chin and lift it. He catches my eyes. “You look freaked out,” I tell him.
“I am. A bit.”
“What’s freaking you out? Other than my hair and how fast I just ate a corndog.”
“Tomorrow.”
Kent’s eyes are so sweet and sad, I want to just hug him and squeeze all of that sorrow out of him.
I let go of his chin. “Why worry about tomorrow? It’s still tonight. By the way, were you working one of these machines? Is that why you smell so appetizing?”
“Uh, appetizing?”
“Yeah. You reek of the crumbly burned remains of an overdone batch of fries, and I find it mouthwatering.”
Kent lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I want to eat you.”
He frowns. “I need a shower.”
“No, you don’t.” I bring my hands around the small of his back and pull him against me, pinning my body to the railing. “You really, really don’t.”
“I smell gross. I’m a sweaty, greasy mess.”
In a literal and figurative sense, he’s talking dirty to me. “I think I know what will calm you down. Can I make a few statements?”
“A few statements …?”
“Yep. And if any of them are untrue, then stop me.”
His body feels so good against mine. His warmth, his strength, his everything. “Alright.”
“Here goes: You’re worried about tomorrow because you don’t want me to go home.” He stays silent. “You are into me.” Still silent. “You want to spend tonight with me.” His eyes roll with frustration, but then he seems to decide something, and his gaze reluctantly snaps back to mine, waiting. “You like that I’m here. You’re relieved, even. You want me to stay.”
“Is that it?” he nearly growls.
“One more statement: You want to kiss me.”
His eyes deepen.
The answer is clear.
I don’t wait another second. I lunge forward and put my lips to his, wrapping my arms around him. It’s obvious from his instant reaction that he wanted this all along, his fingers curling around my shirt at the back, his breathing intensifying, and his mouth pressing eagerly against mine.
When we pull apart, our eyes have changed.
Whatever hard-to-get, third-degree, coy game I was playing with him is over. All pretense, dropped. The scowl on his face is traded for wide-eyed anticipation.
“There you are,” I whisper.
Kent’s eyes brighten. “Here I am.”
It’s amazing, what one touch of his lips can do to me. All of my worries feel so far away suddenly. And if that look in his eyes is any indication, he’s forgotten what was stirring him up so much completely. I wish I could bottle up this feeling inside me right now and spritz it all over my body instead of this damned designer cologne the salon drowned me in. Honestly, I don’t know why people with money put this crap all over them. I’m practically gagging.
Just then, heavy dance music starts thumping from within the house. Kent and I turn, witnessing the scene through the back windows turn into a dancing mosh pit of madness.
I’m struck by a new inspiration. “Do you wanna—?”
“I don’t dance,” says Kent at once.
I turn to him. “You still owe me an apology.”
“An apology? For all that stuff you said? Fine. I’m sorry for running off. Now we’ve kissed and made up.”
“No. You owe me a real apology.” I point toward the windows. “And it comes in the form of you breaking down on the dance floor with me.”
“I told you I don’t dance.”
“Well, I’m going in there,” I say, gently pulling away from him, “and if some other guys start grinding all over me, then …” I shrug innocently. “… I guess it’ll just happen. After all, I’m everyone’s wet dream now, apparently.”
“Not with those horror-movie nose hairs, you’re not.”
“Your loss.” I smirk at him, then head toward the back door leading in. The music thrums all around me as I cut through the crowd, making my way for the middle of the room where this impromptu dance party just broke out. I feel the hypnotic thumping of the beat, and all the bodies around me are dancing and flailing their arms. This is totally a scene out of Rico’s daily nightlife, minus the club lights and glow sticks.
A body presses against me. I turn.
It’s Kent, glowering at me sulkily. “You win,” he grunts.
Of course, I can barely hear him over the music. I grin at him, then start bobbing my head to the beat. “I always do. Now move your butt.” I grab him by the hips and pull him against me. Despite all his efforts to resist the music, he gives in, bobbing his head. Then the beat drops, and I get lost in the music with Kent at my side. The whole time I dance, his eyes are on me, and soon, he’s even smiling.
