Page 32 of See You at the Finish Line

There are people grinding on each other and girls dancing with their drinks over their heads, shouting out the words to the songs. It’s throwback night to the early 2000s and that’s the only good thing about this club. I automatically scan the crowd, not really sure what I’m looking for.

I’m bullshitting myself. I know exactly what I’m looking for. Or more accurately, who I’m looking for.

Searching for her face has become a habit. It started when I stayed in Utah for a few days longer than I originally planned. Moab is a small town, so I thought I might run into her.

Then it sort of became something I did without thinking whenever I was somewhere new. Like if I looked for her hard enough, she’d magically appear.

Pathetic, I know.

I sigh and take another sip of my drink as a flash of brown hair catches my peripheral vision. Doing a double take, I stand abruptly as the long ponytail swishes back and forth.

“Where are you going?” Mateo asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Bathroom,” I answer as I put my beer on the table. I fight my way over to the woman with brown hair. Her chocolate brown hair.

It can’t be her, logically I know that. But my heart doesn’t always listen to logic so I’m not giving up the chance in case it is. The friend she’s with sees me coming and raises her eyebrows. I take a deep breath and tap her on the shoulder.

She twists around expectantly like the eyebrow raise was code for something I’m not privy to. She beams, taking me in from head to toe.

“Hello,” she says, her voice sultry.

My stomach plummets and I try not to let the disappointment show. Her smile widens as she finishes perusing my body and returns her eyes to my face, so I must have done a good job hiding the letdown.

It’s nother.

Stupid of me to get my hopes up.

“Hey,” I say, letting the word hang in the air. I’m not sure what to do now. I know what she wants me to do, and I feel like I can’t let her down since I’m the one who approached her.

She’s pretty—her green eyes are full of mischief and her overly plump lips are an unnatural shade of pink. I might as well dance with her. Mateo would be proud of me.

“I’m Adam,” I say, holding out a hand. She looks down at it, confused, and then slings her arm around my neck. A feat that would have been more difficult were she not wearing six-inch heels.

“I’m Grace,” she yells back. She’s steady on her feet so I assume she’snot too drunk.

“Do you want to dance?” I ask over the sound of the pounding music.

Defying everything I know about what the human body is capable of, her smile pulls wider.

“Is that really what you want?” She’s already moving to the beat.

No, I don’t want to dance with her. I want her to be someone else.

“Yeah, I want to dance.”

“Okay.” She hands her drink to her friend and grabs my wrist, leading me deeper into the club. She throws her arms up and begins to sway to the sound of everyone bringing sexy back. I bob my head, trying to enjoy myself.

I have to let Paige go.

“You call that dancing?” Grace yells.

I smile, trying to banish the thoughts of a different brunette. Adding a few arm movements to my head bobs, I lift my expression into a bit of a self-deprecating smile. Grace throws her head back and laughs fully, completely unaware of my disinterest.

She takes my hands and places them on her hips, throwing her arms around my shoulders. I’m tense and I know it. Hopefully she thinks I’m shy and not wishing she was someone else. Eventually, JT’s voice warms me up a bit and I get into the beat of the pulsating music.

“That’s it,” she whispers in my ear. I swallow at the husky sound of her voice and the way her body moves against mine.

God, how long has it been? It’s not like yearning after Paige has kept me celibate, but I honestly can’t remember the last time I had sex or who it was with. I’m a dick.

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