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The moment she finished her speech, they started to clear the tables of dinner remnants and brought out a band for dancing. Danny took the opportunity to slide over two seats, occupying the one Rueben recently vacated. He instantly started talking about himself, about his contributions to the school, and blah blah blah, but my eyes kept wandering over to the door Rueben and Ellen went through not too long ago.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, leaning in too closely for my liking.
“Thanks.” My reply was short and sweet. He wasn’t getting a compliment back.
“Listen, about us,” he started, but I had already heard enough.
Standing up, my chair scooting loudly across the tile floor, I said, “There is no us. If you’ll excuse me.”
And then I headed for the bar.
Here I am, stepping up and ordering a glass of merlot to calm my frazzled nerves. I mean, who does he think he is? He left me, remember? More than ten years ago, the morning of our graduation and the day before we were to leave to start our new life together?
Fuck him.
“Fuck Danny Ohara,” I mumble, as the bartender sets the glass of wine down in front of me and I hand over a twenty-dollar bill. When he slides back my change, I throw some in the tip jar. The moment my hand lets go of the bills, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a familiar sensation I now associate with Rueben.
“Why are we saying fuck Danny Ohara?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear as he presses his front to my back.
A familiar tingle courses through my veins as his hands snake around my body and rest on my stomach. He applies just enough pressure to hold me against him, my body feeling every ripple of his, the hardness between his legs. I gasp, the words to answer his question gone for good.
“Crick?” he whispers, his lips grazing over my sensitive earlobe.
“What?”
“What did he do?”
“It’s not so much what he did say as what he was going to,” I tell him. When he lightens his hold, I slowly spin around and gaze up at his dark eyes.
“What was he going to say?”
I shrug my right shoulder and glance around. The bar is starting to fill up, but no one seems to be paying us much attention. Shocking, considering we’re practically blocking part of the bar. “Truthfully, I didn’t let him finish his statement. He started it with ‘about us,’ to which I politely reminded him that there was nous.”
The corner of his lip turns up. His hand comes to rest on my lower back, and that familiar pressure is back as he holds me firmly against him. “And why is that?”
My brows pinch together in question. “Why is there no us?” I ask, a little dumbfounded by him asking. He nods once and waits for my reply. “Because I’m not interested in ever dating Danny Ohara again.” I can practically feel him relax against me. “Plus, I’m sort of seeing someone,” I add, giving him a knowing smile.
His little grin turns wolfish as he moves one hand and threads it in my hair at the nape of my neck. “Sort of seeing someone, huh?”
I’m not sure how it’s possible, but he moves us even closer. I can barely think, let alone breathe. My mind is screaming to kiss him, my hands desperate to touch every inch of his body. I’m not sure if it’s this man or the glasses of champagne I’ve had tonight, but a new boldness sweeps through my blood. “Yes, I’m seeing someone. He’s pretty fucking great. Smart and funny.” I move up to my tiptoes and lean in just a little to whisper, “Oh, and so fucking sexy.”
He arches an eyebrow and grins down at me. “Sexy, huh?”
“Fucking sexy,” I state, bringing my glass of wine up to my lips and taking a hearty drink. I’m afraid if I don’t do something with my hands, they’ll strip this man naked, crowd be damned.
We’re locked in a stare down, both of us wanting something neither of us have vocalized yet. There’s no question left in my mind when it comes to Rueben and whether or not he’s attracted to me. I can feelthatpressed against my stomach. There’s also no longer any doubt that he’s as lost to this attraction as I am. It’s in the way his fingers linger on my skin, like he can’t get enough. Or the way he holds my hand and rubs my knuckles with his thumb, almost absently. Or the way he looks at me, as if I’m the only woman in the room.
That’swhy I would never go back to Danny.
Because he’s never made me feel this alive, this desirable, this wanted.
Maybe it was our age. Maybe a twenty-two-year-old doesn’t really know enough about love. Or maybe it wasbecauseit was Danny and our story really didn’t have a happily ever after ending. But this? With Rueben?Thisfeels different. Better. The best. Exactly how all the fairy tales tell you it’s supposed to feel. Maybe sometimes, you have to be shown the bad so you can appreciate the good when it comes along.
Rueben takes my hand and guides me back to our table. I notice Ellen is there, her and Danny’s heads angled downward, as if having a private argument amongst themselves. We don’t take our seats, however. My date takes the glass from my hand and sets it down, then with my hand still nestled in his own, guides me toward the dance floor.
There are several couples already swaying to the smooth melody of the slow song. My nerves kick up just a notch, and I’m not exactly sure why. I’ve never danced with Rueben, let alone this closely. Yet, it feels like the most natural, comfortable thing in the entire world. He pulls me into his arms, takes my left hand in his, and places his right hand on my lower back. He holds me close, our bodies aligned in perfect harmony. I can still feel his hard length nestled within the confines of his suit pants, and oh what I’d like to do with that cock right now. I’m grateful for the low lighting to help conceal my rapidly pinkening cheeks.
We sway in sync to the beat, and I realize Rueben has pretty good rhythm. I’ve danced at my fair share of charity events in San Francisco, and none of my dancing partners have been as smooth on the dance floor as Rueben Rigsby.
