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"Damn," he groans, "I want to touch you so badly."
My heart races as Lincoln's words become progressively more explicit, causing my cheeks to flush with embarrassment. I can't believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. Just when it seems like he's about to take things way too far for the dancefloor, a sudden collision with his roommate Marshall disrupts the charged atmosphere that enveloped us.
The impact breaks the spell we were under in an instant. It's as though all the tension that had been building up in our bodies vanishes. My feet return to solid ground, and I instinctively wrap my arms around Lincoln's waist, burying my face in his chest. He responds by placing a comforting arm around my shoulders, silently reassuring me that we share the same thoughts.
I draw a deep breath and tilt my head to observe Marshall, who's enthusiastically recounting something to Lincoln, but his words fall on deaf ears. Lincoln appears completely zoned out, disconnected from his friend's chatter.
My gaze wanders around the dimly lit dance floor, and I notice that Leia and Ronan have disappeared. Did they return to the table or the restroom, I wonder?
Lincoln's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Do you want some water?" he asks.
I strive to regain my composure, using my free hand to adjust a few unruly curls. "Yes, please."
He extends his hand, and our fingers intertwine. "Come with me," he beckons, tugging gently on my hand, prompting me to follow him.
We navigate through the pulsating crowd, heading back to our booth. As we approach, my attention is immediately drawn to Leia, who's sporting an expression of unbridled delight. I slide in beside her, and Lincoln squeezes my hand briefly before letting go, informing me that he'll return with my water. I watch as Ronan exits the booth on the other side, trailing behind Lincoln as they make their way to the bar.
Leia pulls me into a tight hug, her excitement practically bubbling over as she yells in my ear, "You slut! It looked like you were practically fucking on the dance floor!"
The loud music blares, drowning out most of the conversation. My cheeks grow warm at her words. "We were not!" I vehemently deny it.
"Babe, watching you guys made Ronan hard," she says, her eyes distant as she solemnly nods. "I was close to kneeing him in the balls when his dick accidentally touched me."
I want to laugh, but I'm too stunned by everything that just happened. "Should I be embarrassed?" I choke out.
Her grin is infectious. "No way, it was hot! I'm so proud of you, taking charge of your own life and doing what you want!"
Her words wash over me, but I can't quite process them. "Okay, okay, okay."
"Stop saying that."
"Okay."
"Bitch!"
Before panic can set in, the guys slide back into the booth. A glass of water is placed in my trembling hand, and an arm drapes over my shoulders.
I take a few deep breaths before I dare to glance at Lincoln. I expected remorse for what happened, but he's not showing any signs of it; instead, he's doubling down.
His dark hair is a disheveled mess after our dance, but even in this state, he exudes unwavering confidence. It's as if some of that confidence has rubbed off on me, allowing me to finally relax as he casually drapes his arm around me.
For the next hour, the four of us occupy our table, engaging in meaningless chatter. I can't believe how unexpectedly fantastic this night has turned out. It's beyond what I ever imagined, and the best part? I didn't have to make the first move. Lincoln took the lead when we were dancing, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
As we leave, the guys opt to walk us back to campus instead of taking a car. It's only a short ten-minute stroll from the bar to campus, but it provides the perfect opportunity for the reality of tonight's events to sink in.
Once we reach the dorms, Ronan and Leia turn left and disappear into one of the study rooms on our floor, leaving Lincoln and me standing in front of my door.
There's a palpable silence, and after a few seconds, I can't hold back any longer. "Thank you for walking me home," I blurt out.
Lincoln runs both hands through his unruly hair, then lets them fall to his sides. "No problem. We had a good time tonight, right?" he asks.
I respond a bit too eagerly, "Yes."
A grin takes over his face as he playfully tugs on a curl sticking out wildly from my head. "We've got practice and a few games next week, but there's a free day after that. Do you want to hang out?"
Is this going to be like a date, or just two friends spending time together? I'm hoping for the former, but why do I always have to overthink everything?
I offer a quick prayer that I'm projecting happiness instead of nervousness as I respond, "Um, yes."
