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Penny surprises me and throws her arms around my waist, hoisting me off the floor. “Love you, Auti,” she coos, delivering air kisses near my face and hair—careful not to mess up either.
With my feet firmly planted on the ground again, I blow her a kiss. “You’re the best.” Penny being Penny, she curtsies then saunters off to the living room.
In front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, I do one last scan, hair to heels. The black and white plaid-print strapless crop top sits high enough to cover the girls, but shows two fingers of skin above my waistline. Charcoal slacks hug my skin from navel to ankle. A simple pair of black heels shine at my feet. My signature scarlet lips for an added pop and hair in a ponytail.
Jonas steps in the room and closes the door. He sizes me up, licking his lips. “Not sure if we’ll make it out tonight.”
I push out my lower lip and bat my lashes. “But I got all dressed up.”
“Fuck, scarlet. Don’t pout. I might mess up your makeup.” He comes up behind me, staring at me in the mirror over my shoulder, arms slithering around my waist, hips flush against my low back. “Sure I can’t convince you to stay in?” Jonas kisses beneath my ear and I roll my eyes closed.
“Our friends are waiting for us,” I rebut huskily.
He kisses farther down my neck, hands roaming my abdomen. “They’ll understand.”
God, I want him to keep going. Explore my skin with his lips and tongue. Taste me. Heat ravages my skin as he kisses along the curve of my neck. “Jonas…”
“Yeah, scarlet.”
“I want to.” Spinning in his arms, I lock on to his otherworldly eyes. “But after we go out.”
My favorite dimple appears as his lips kick up at the corners. His lips hover over my ear. “Hours of torture.” He groans then releases me.
“It’ll be worth it.”
Before I change my mind about going out, I rush us out of the room. Jonas chuckles, his hand on my hip. Hugs and good nights are exchanged with Penny and Clementine. We buckle up in the Jeep and drive toward Tampa.
We crack the windows enough to let the cool night air sweep inside the cab. Salt and sand and earth perfume the breeze. Brilliant shades of tangerine and magenta dust the horizon as the sun dips below the water. “Level of Concern” by Twenty One Pilots plays on the radio as Jonas draws circles on my thigh with his thumb.
My eyes drift closed, amplifying every sense but sight. The whorl of Jonas’s calloused thumb swirls on my thigh and stirs heat low in my belly. Hints of sunscreen mixed with Jonas’s scent float in the Jeep cabin, and I take a deep breath. A brisk gust whips across my cheek and tampers the heat slowly building from his touch. And as the song on the radio fades from one to the next, I picture dancing with Jonas tonight, sweat dripping off our bodies.
Tonight celebrates a first, of sorts. Not the first occasion going out without Clementine. Jonas and I have gone on several dates. Gone out to hang with our friends and have fun—which is where we are headed now.
But tonight is different.
Because when we all go our separate ways tonight, Jonas and I will go home to his house. Alone. Without Clementine.
Part of me screams inside and waggles a motherly finger in my face, berating me for not being under the same roof as my daughter when I go to sleep. Another part of me hoots and hollers and jumps on the bar top whirling a towel over her head. She praises me, tells meit’s about damn time, teases I won’t get any sleep tonight.
“Should be there in five,” Jonas states as he exits the highway.
I shoot a text to Cora and let her know our ETA. She replies and indicates where they parked. A few more turns and Jonas parks the Jeep one row back from Gavin’s Range Rover. We stroll to the Rover hand in hand and meet up with everyone. After hugs and quick hellos, we enter the club.
Although I never experienced the clubbing stage of my late teens/early twenties, I suddenlyfeelyears younger. A rush of excitement fuels me as we walk through Roar. Bass and occasional treble pour from the speakers and rattle my bones. Sporadic flashes of colored lights illuminate the dark club while dim lights softly brighten the bars. Sweetness and salt filter through my nose as we pass people bumping and grinding on the dance floor. Jonas guides me through the club with his hands on my hips, provoking the urge to dance.
Gavin maneuvers the group toward a table near the bar. As we circle around, Micah waves then signals he will be over in a minute.
Jonas stands flush to my back, not a breath of space between us. His hands clasp at my belly as his fingers tickle the sliver of visible flesh near my navel. Light caresses fan the flame already heating my skin. Lips lightly nibble at my ear as I roll my eyes back and press my butt against his thighs.
“Mmm... definitely dancing tonight,” he muses, breathy on my ear.
I tip my head back, rest it on his shoulder, and meet his gaze. His lips lower to mine and break away far too soon. When I display my best pouty face, Jonas shakes his head and chuckles.
Micah joins us at the table, exchanging hugs and bro back slaps. Although he works tonight, he promises to hang during breaks. He goes around the table and jots our drink orders on a napkin.
After he scratches the last drink down, Micah steps between two people at the bar and hollers. “Peyton.” A woman midway down the bar, blonde hair loosely pulled back in a ponytail glances up. Close to our age. She’s tall—closer to Shelly’s height than the rest of us. Her eyes scan the bar to find who called out. When her eyes land on Micah, she grinds her jaw. He tosses the napkin on the bar and slaps it. “Drink order,” he yells.
She drifts down the bar to stop in front of him. From my vantage point, I can’t hear the exchange. But hostility rolls off the two of them. Or is that sexual tension? He says something else to her and she shakes her head while grabbing a glass. When he spins around, she aims her middle finger in his direction.
