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“Where did you go?” I find myself asking, really wanting to know the answer.
“We went to the movies and saw some rom-com film that I don’t even remember the name of. Then, we went for ice cream at the parlor uptown. It was nice.”
“Sounds nice.”
“But it was also awkward,” she confesses. “We were both pretty shy, so it took us a while to get comfortable in our relationship.”
“You’re not shy or awkward now,” I add.
“No, Grandma and Grandpa pretty much cured me and my sisters of any bit of bashfulness we may have had.”
I laugh as our number is called at the counter. Retrieving our dinner, I join Meghan at the table and dive in. We consume most of the large pizza and keep talking like we’ve known each other forever. It amazes me how comfortable I feel around Meghan. I dated Collette for a few years – hell, I even moved her into my house and bought a ring (that I thankfully didn’t give her) – and never felt this light and easiness that I feel with this particular woman.
More than an hour after we finish our pizza, Starship’s “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” begins to play over the sound system. “I love this song! Come on, one last spin around the rink before we head home,” she says, standing up and reaching for my hand. I take it instantly, and even though my feet aren’t excited for the last skate, I follow her back into the main area.
We keep our fingers entwined as we glide around the rink, singing along with the music. Every time she glances my way, I’m rewarded with a blinding smile. When I build up the confidence, I swing her out and watch as she does a little spin move. I snatch up her hand again as I cruise by, pulling her along until we’re skating side-by-side again.
We are laughing, carrying on, and enjoying the moment, when suddenly, someone stops in front of us. I visualize the crash moments before I feel it. In an attempt to save Meghan from going down with me, I try to spin her out, only to get the front wheels of our skates tangled up.
The result is painful. We go down hard, a tangled mess of arms and legs, not to mention the fact that the weight of the skates makes it difficult to determine where exactly your foot is going to end up. For me, it ends up at an awkward angle that includes a pull, followed by a bit of a burn.
I gaze down at the woman lying next to me on the hard floor, ready to pull every apology I can out of my ass. Before I can open my mouth, she bursts into fits of laughter. In fact, she’s laughing so hard, I’m pretty sure there are tears in her eyes.
“Christ, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep from panicking at the thought of hurting Meghan.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she giggles, her green eyes sparkling like brilliant emeralds beneath the spinning disco balls.
“Fuck no, it wasn’t. Are you all right?” I ask, glancing down to make sure no bones are protruding from her body.
“I’m fine,” she says, a bit breathless from our spill.
When I finish my perusal for injuries, I discover where my hand landed and so much more. My eyes are riveted to her thighs, where her pink dress is pulled up to her waist. Her smooth, creamy skin is on full display, and my very male brain zeros in on the sliver of pink lace between her legs. My mouth goes dry and my cock rigid. Suddenly, it’s hotter than Hell inside this place and I can’t breathe. Quickly, I pull the hem of her dress down enough to cover what was exposed by the spill. I go to pull on the neck of my shirt, but my hand won’t move. It won’t move because it’s plastered on her outer thigh, my fingers grazing the globe of her ass.
Sweet mother of God, I’m touching Meghan’s thigh.
And saw her panties.
I’ll jack off to this exact image for the rest of my life.
“Nick?” My name on her lips is both a question and a plea. My eyes zero in on her lips. Those full, lush, completely kissable lips. Suddenly, tasting those lips is the only thing I can think about, the only thing I want.
With our eyes locked, my head dips down, her lips drawing closer and closer with each passing second. I can feel her breath fan across my face until I’m right there – my lips are a whisper away from hers. It would take very minimal movement and I would be kissing Meghan.
I don’t want to question it, but I do hesitate. I need to give her time to realize what’s happening. When her sexy little tongue slips out and licks her lips, I know what her answer is. Her eyes close a moment later, and I get ready to make my move. I didn’t even realize how much I wanted this kiss until this exact moment, and now, I want it more than I want air. No, I need it.
“Spill on aisle four!” a skater hollers as he whizzes by, pulling us out of the moment.
Meghan’s eyes fly open and crash into mine, the almost-kiss moment shattering like a glass vase on the ground, and realization settles in. We’re sprawled out on the floor, in the middle of the rink, and I was about to kiss Meghan. Publicly. Our first kiss was almost witnessed by half the town of Cooper, and two dozen teenagers with smart phones.
Superb job, Nicholas. Smooth. Real smooth.
