Page 9 of Catch You

“I … uh … need to use the bathroom.” I step around him and squeeze between the bodies dancing beside us. I’m almost at the edge of the crowd when his arm slips around my waist.

“You don’t need to run. Let me walk you.”

I want to tell him no, that he should go back to the party and leave me to do my thing, but as I open my lips to say the words, they die on my tongue. Having him beside me feels too good to ignore, so instead, I allow him to walk me to the bathroom.

“Thanks,” I mutter, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, which is crazy seeing as I was basically dry humping him out on the dance floor not all that long ago. “You should go back up to the party. Milo might be looking for you.”

“Why do I get the impression you’re trying to get rid of me?”

My eyes go wide—I don’t want him to think that. “No, not at all. I just didn’t think you’d want to hang around the bathrooms like a loser.”

“You think I’m a loser?” One side of his lips curls into a smile.

My cheeks heat and my breath catches. “No, that’s not what?—”

“I was joking.” He lifts his hand to my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Don’t look so worried.”

I nod, unable to say anything with the way he’s looking into my eyes.

Thankfully, someone jostling him from behind breaks our connection.

“I’m just going to …” I trail off, gesturing behind me.

“I’ll be upstairs.” He winks before turning and leaving me with the space I need to breathe.

After standing in line for what feels like hours, I eventually manage to get to a stall to do my thing.

I’m standing at the sink, reapplying my lip gloss, when a familiar flash of blonde appears over my shoulder.

“Sooo … is he as good a kisser as I predicted?”

“I don’t know what you’re?—”

“Oh, no, no, no. I watched you two going at it on the dance floor, so don’t even think about lying to me. You don’t get to steal my man and then kiss and not tell.”

“I didn’t steal?—”

She waves her hand in front of me, brushing aside my argument. “Was he good?”

I sigh, wondering how to describe him.

“Forget it. That sigh and the goofy eyes say it all.”

“It says nothing, B. He was a good kisser. It was fun. But that’s all this is.”

“Why?”

“Because in case you’d forgotten, I have no interest in dipping my toe into the dating world. I’ve got too much other stuff to worry about. I don’t need the whole ‘does he like me, doesn’t he? Is he going to call?’ thing adding to my stress.”

“But he could be the perfect stress relief.”

“Men always come with drama.”

“Only if you allow them to. Think about it … one hot night. Let him banish the tension that’s been pulling your muscles tight and then allow him to walk out the door, knowing you both got what you needed. Bam. He’s happy. You’re happy. You can continue with your life. End of.”

I sigh once more, but this time it’s not with memories of how his kiss felt. It’s heavy with the regret of my past. I know what Brooke is saying is right, but I’ve been there and done that. I know that one night of passion, of pushing my problems aside, isn’t going to help in the long run. Hell knows I’ve tried.

I know she’s just trying to encourage me to enjoy myself, but she has no idea what it’s like for me. She might have been there with me through most of it, but still, it’s not the same. I’m always terrified of falling back into old habits and returning to a side of me that I never want to visit again.

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