Page 20 of Be My Reason

Dancing can be like a drug. It releases endorphins and makes you feel better even if you are in a bad mood.It must be those endorphins kicking in when I look at Nate. Watching him dance is like seeing a recipe perfectly come together. It builds up with each ingredient and then you stir it all together and all of the flavors mix, and you are then rewarded with the aroma of the scrumptious pastry as it bakes. But, just like most of the confections I make, I cannot have, nor do I want him. Okay, in all honesty I do want everything that I bake. But I don’t want Nate. Nope. Don’t want him or his sweaty, dirty-blonde hair that he sometimes runs his hands through. Not his broad shoulders or even that strip of skin between his low hung jeans and his shirt that rides up when he raises his hands over his head.

I’ll admit, however, that he is eye-candy for women.Case in point. There is a curvy, attractive woman behind him. She starts grinding into him from behind.Hello? Am I not even here?I mean we aren’t dancing closely but it should be kind of obvious that we are dancing together. He is sporting a huge smile as he moves against her.Of course he is. Then he opens his eyes and sees me in front of him and a look of shock crosses his face. He quickly reaches out and takes my hand, turning us around so that I’m the one who is now standing with my back to sweaty-grind girl. He releases my hand the instant we change positions. Sweaty girl pouts behind me and walks away and Nate is smiling once again.

A slow song comes on so I head over to the table and down my water.Nate follows me but Graham and Emma stay on the dance floor, glued together, hands roaming every which way. We go ahead and order another round of drinks for everyone. I try to pay the waitress but Nate won’t let me. We are enjoying our drinks and are watching the dance floor when another woman comes up to Nate and asks him to dance.Seriously, am I invisible? He tells her no thank you and shrugs an apology at me.

“You know, it’s okay if you want to dance with someone. It’s not like I’m your date.” I blush. “I mean, we’re not together. Well, not together-together.” I roll my eyes at myself.

“Brooklyn, I’m not going to leave you sitting here all by yourself.” He smiles at me and lifts his chin to the dance floor. “But ifyouwant to dance with me, that would be great.”

Dance with him.Touch that sweaty body. Grind up close to him. No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression. I’m no longer that little girl who will fall for some romantic lines and then fall into bed with him. No, I’m perfectly fine sitting right here where it’s safe. Just a few more hours tonight and tomorrow will be the last I see of Nathan Riley.

Emma and Graham come back to the table for a drink.I finish my second Cosmo in no time and grab Emma’s hand and drag her to the dance floor. “Girls’ dance,” I say, as I point to the guys to stay put.

Out on the dance floor Emma can’t stop gushing about Graham and how good a dancer he is and how great he is and how good he smells and on and on. In between my eye rolls, I notice Nate and Graham intermittently talking and staring at us.I know they are talking about us; hopefully they are talking about Emma because there really isn’t any point in talking about me. My story is already written, there are no alternative endings, no chances of turning the tables, no way am I going to cave to the playboy of the modern world. I see the way he is looking at me when I dance, like he wants to eat me alive. It should make me feel uncomfortable but I don’t let it. After all, I’m probably the one woman here he can’t have. So, look all you want, Nate, this book is shut. Done. Finished. Period.

Emma and I dance our asses off until I think my feet will become disconnected from my body.I am so in need of water right now. We go over to the table where the guys have fresh water and another round of drinks waiting.

“Damn, you two look hot.” Graham smiles at Emma. “And I’m not talking about your temperature. You guys looked great. I think every guy in this club is wishing they were us right now.” He points his finger between himself and Nate.

A slow songs starts.“Later you two,” Emma says, pulling Graham up from the table.

Surprisingly, a few guys come by and ask me to dance.The second guy doesn’t take no for an answer until I show him my ring. Then he turns to Nate and says, “You are one lucky guy, man.”

Nate simply says, “You have no idea.” The other guy walks away and Nate looks upset.

“Listen,” he says, while gesturing to my ring, “if you dance with me, I promise I’ll respect the ring.”

I don’t know if I believe those words or if the alcohol is kicking in, but for some reason, against the better judgment of womankind and the Jiminy-freaking-Cricket on my shoulder, I say, “Fine, but you’d better be good.” I blush. “I mean, you better behave yourself.”

He chuckles. “I know what you mean, Brooklyn. And Iamgood.”

I ignore his words and head out to the dance floor.He stands in front of me, holding out his hands while raising an eyebrow to ask permission to put them on me. I give him a slight nod and hold my breath. As soon as his hands touch my sides, my eyes close spontaneously and my breath hitches. My flesh is burning under those large hands and electricity is working its way through my veins. I wonder if I keep my eyes shut and imagine I’m dancing with Michael, if it will make this more tolerable. Only, I can’t do that because what I’m smelling, now that he is so close to me—that fresh laundry and Nate smell that is now mixed with a heady dose of man-sweat—that smellis most definitely not Michael.

“Um, Brooklyn, usually the way it works is that you put your hands somewhere on me as well.” He smirks as my eyes pop open.

I’m glad the dance floor is dark because I’m sure I’m blushing again.“Oh, right,” I say, putting my hands up on his shoulders and then around the back of his neck, but I don’t grip them together. I still want to maintain a little buffer no matter how hard that is to do while slow dancing.

I try not to move my fingers much but I can feel the sheen of sweat along with the rigid muscles of his neck.Ordinarily this would gross me out. I’m not like Michael. I’m not used to other people’s bodily fluids getting on me. But instead of pulling away, my body betrays my mind and plants itself right up against him.

I hear him take in along breath through his nose.Is he smelling my hair? There are still little sparks that are igniting under my skin whenever he rubs his thumb in a circle where he has placed his hand on my lower back.

This is harder than I thoughtit would be. I think I’m a little drunk and should probably not be doing this. This feels too good for someone who is happily engaged. As my conscience argues with my goddess within, I decide to give him one more song. But that’s it. I smile at myself for having such resolve.

Karma is a funny thing.I never really believed in it before. The whole, do the right thing and good things will happen to you theory, I don’t buy it. I think you should do the right thing because the right thing feels right, not because you fear some wave of cosmic badness will follow your soul.

Well, apparently tonight, I am Karma’s bitch. Because the song that starts playing through the speakers of this very loud, very trendy club is the same song that played about five seconds after I lost my virginity to the very guy whose hands are burning a hole in thefabric of my favorite sweater. Nickelback is singing ‘Someday,’ and I am transformed back into a seventeen-year-old girl, sitting in the front seat of Nate’s pick-up truck, thinking that it was the best day of my life and that my future had just been decided for me and it was exactly what I had dreamed. I am frozen in time. My body stiffens. And just because Karma wants her brownies with ice cream, fudge topping and a freaking cherry on top, a tear rolls down my cheek.

Nate pulls away from me and looks at my face, which I know must be horribly streaked with mascara. His brows furrow together. “Brooklyn, I—”

“I—I’m sorry,” I interrupt. “I need to hit the ladies room.” I peel myself out of his grip and try not to embarrass myself by running to the bathroom.

I hearquick steps behind me.Don’t follow me. Please don’t follow me.I keep going, quickening my pace until I realize the sound of the clicking behind me couldn’t possibly be Nate. I turn to see Emma following me into the bathroom.

“What happened?”She wets some paper towels and runs them under my eyes.

I explain the best I can through my heavy breathing, feeling foolish the entire time that this song wouldaffect me. I have avoided listening to this song—okay every song by Nickelback—for the past eight years. But tonight, between the alcohol, the fun night we’ve had, and the fact that I’m out of my element, the lines are blurring and clearly I’m not in the correct frame of mind.

Once I’m calmed down and cleaned up, we head back to the table where I gulp down anotherglass of water. No more alcohol for me tonight.

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