Page 37 of A Little Bit Extra

Damn, the night is still early and I’m already in trouble. I should not be thinking about this right now, but you can’t blame a girl for getting hot and bothered in the club. Right? It’s not insane. Emmett is just here. And he’s being extra flirty and handsy and all I want to do is dance with him. It’s harmless, I swear.

I don’t need Smart Cassie to infiltrate my brain right now and remind me Emmett is bad news for me. Falling for an actor is not a part of my plan. Anyway, I don’t have the time to make a relationship a priority. Between working, auditions, and acting class, I hardly have time for myself.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun tonight. Lucy told me I deserved to have fun, so to hell with being smart. For one night at least.

Speak of the devil. Lucy enters the front door of the club and I wave my hands until she sees me and starts running toward the dance floor. She’s sporting a little black dress with tiny spaghetti straps. Her auburn hair falls in loose, bouncy curls around her shoulders. It’s almost shocking because I don’t think I’ve seen her out of her work or painting clothes in months.

“Damn, Luce.”

She smiles and turns in a circle. “Oh, this thing?” She glances down and gestures to her dress before looking back at me. “Dress to impress, right?” She smiles and pulls me into a hug.

When she releases me, she looks around and sees Emmett and Tyler. She holds out her right hand and waves at Emmett. “Hi! I’m Lucy, the best friend, if you didn’t remember me from a few weeks ago at the diner.”

Emmett nods and grins. “How could I forget? I'm Emmett, the uh…” he stumbles over his words, his gaze flickering toward me, and I silently urge him on with a raised eyebrow. “This is Tyler.” Instead of claiming a title, he introduces Tyler to Lucy.

Tyler steps forward with the biggest smile I’ve seen from him. He gives her a small wave and says hi. When I told Lucy about Emmett and his friends, I may have mentioned that Tyler would be the one I thought she’d like the most. Lucy normally goes for more quiet, reserved guys, but I think she’d like a change. Tyler is the opposite of her ex, who I think I spoke to maybe three times in the few months they dated. He is more outgoing, talkative, and I’m sure just as supportive—which she needs desperately in her life.

“Join me for a drink?” Lucy says to Tyler. He nods. They both smile at us, Lucy winks at me, and then they’re off to the bar.

Emmett turns to me. “Well.”

“Well,” I mock.

He looks around the room before meeting my gaze again. He takes one step closer to me and holds out a hand. “Want to dance?”

Do I want to dance? Yes. Most definitely. Do I want to feel his body close to mine? One thousand percent. Being around Emmett makes me nervous, but the good kind of nervous. The kind where my stomach is full of butterflies, but I try to hide it. The kind where my cheeks are constantly flush with red and hurt from smiling. I don’t know what this is or what we are to each other, but it feels different from just friends.

I’ve had male friends before. I didn’t get goosebumps or giddy thinking about them. I definitely didn’t want them to touch me like I’m thinking about Emmett right now. Besides the few people I’ve dated, I’ve never felt this pull to another person before. It’s magnetic, two sides pulling toward each other, begging to touch.

With a slight nod, I place my hand in his as Emmett pulls me toward him. I collide with his torso; the impact sends a jolt through my body as my hand connects with his chest. Emmett's hand is on my waist, his grip tightening with each sway as we dance to the rhythm, moving left and right.

The song transitions to “Miracle” by Calvin Harris as if the universe expected my wants. As Emmett spins me around, his hand effortlessly moves from mine to rest on my waist. The song is talking about how when someone touches you; you get vulnerable and I gotta say, I feel vulnerable as fuck right now.

We keep dancing, losing ourselves to the rhythm. The music grows louder, consuming the room with its energetic beats. Each movement brings us closer, the intense heat radiating between our bodies, overwhelming my every thought. I tease Emmett by pressing against him, grinding my backside into him. In response, his fingers dig into my waist, encouraging me to push a little more. I lean my back and head onto his chest, closing the small gaps between us.

The music continues to play similar songs, so we never have to break our dance. Emmett’s head dips forward, breathing into my neck. My breath quickens, speeding up with the anticipation of his lips on mine. I think he’s waiting for me to make the move or to give him some sort of sign that I want to cross the line we’ve drawn. Tonight is different for us, given the nature of the event. Hanging out alone in his apartment brings a different level of intimacy. That’s when I get a version of Emmett that many people don’t have the pleasure of knowing.

Here, I get the public version of Emmett and, because of that, I won’t cross the line. Even if I want to.

The music transitions into a slower song. Emmett talks into my ear and asks if I want to grab a drink. I nod.

His hands leave my waist, but not before he gives me one last squeeze, which I can’t help but overthink. I’m about to say “fuck it” and press my lips against his. This tension between us is going to be the death of me, I swear. Every time Emmett meets my gaze, I want to slam him into the nearest wall and declare him as mine in front of everyone in this venue.

When we get to the booth, I slide to one side. Instead of sitting across from me, he slides next to me and stops a few inches short of our legs touching. A soft, red velvet lines the booth, creating a cozy ambiance that pairs well with the vibrant lights. I’ve never been inside this club, but I would have thought the inside would have featured more blues and purples. You know, moonlight and all doesn’t normally remind me of the color red. But, looking around the venue, there is a lot of red. Red lights, red chairs, red signs.

“What do you want to drink?” Emmett asks. He’s looking at a menu on his phone from the QR code printed in the middle of the table.

“Any mocktail with lime would work for me. What do they have?”

“Would it surprise you to hear that the menu is custom for tonight based on my resume of movies?” Emmett winces. “Tyler thought it’d be hilarious.”

Emmett slides his phone over to me and I look. There are a handful of normal wines and beers, but the cocktails are all named after a movie.

“To the Moon” is from one of his first big movies, where he played a hotshot engineer who saves a moon landing. Not kidding with that one, it was quite hilarious, and it was a plus that he was very hot and smart in that movie. It’s also the reason I call him Hotshot. “Jungle Breeze” is from when he played a journalist. “Man of the Hour” was from when he played a CEO (which was his role in multiple movies). “Cash Money” must be from the bank heist movie he was in. I think “Too Hot to Handle” is from when he played a lifeguard and had his shirt off for 90% of the movie.

I giggle.

“Recognize any of them?”

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