Page 16 of Night Fever
It’s fucking crazy to me to think, but I want to take one of those roses and bring her upstairs, lay her down on her bed in her old room and pluck the petals off the roses one by one and explore her body with the softest touch of the petals on her perfectskin.
I’m lost in thoughts of the girl I never thought I’d see again when I sense the mood in the room shift, and everyone turns their attention toward thehouse.
“There’s the birthday girl!” Taylor’s mom says in a sweet half-shout, and my eyes dart to where everyone’s alreadylooking.
To my girl, standing in the dimly framed doorway, luscious brown curls falling around her face, and curves that make my mouth water and a growl get stuck in my chest and my cock as hard as a fucking rock with onelook.
Taylor
“There’s the birthday girl!”my mom shouts as everyone turns their attention tome.
Everyone looks at me. Every eye in the place is on me, and I feel my heart sink as they begin toclap.
“Come on Olivia,” I say in a hushed voice to my friend as she grabs my hand, “you couldn’t give me a head’sup?”
“God, I am so sorry,” she whispers, “I didn’t know. Your mom suggested that I ask to borrow your shoes because they’d look great with my dress. She must have known that ifI’dknown, I would have never let them do this. I’m really sorry. I should have seen this coming from a freaking mileaway.”
I sigh and put a small smile on my face, squeezing herhand.
“It’s okay,” I say, “let’s just make the best ofit.”
We step outside to the party, where mom and dad are standing in front of a few people I was kind of friends with from grade school to high school. Before I know it, I’m being passed around from guest to guest and hugging each of them in turn, thanking them for coming and saying how happy and surprised Iam.
And off in the corner, I seeHenricks.
I see him, but I try not to look. And even though I hate surprises, his presence here might actually make it all worthit.
But I can’t look right at him. He hangs back in the corner sipping his beer, and even though it probably only lasts about thirty seconds, the bittersweetness of seeing him and not being able to run right over to him and say hello - and maybe more - sends my body into delicious, frustratingagony.
Because every time I sneak a little glance at him over one of my other guest’s shoulders, I watch as he licks his lips after a sip of his beer and it makes my clit all hot when I think about what else I want to watch his tonguedo.
And after I thank my dad again for the dance lessons, I leave the swarm of guests, now breaking off into little groups to grab some cheese and crackers or baby carrots and sit to chat, and walk over to Hendrick with glitter in my step and jelly in myknees.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, putting my arms around his neck. He pulls me in for a close hug. I feel my breath catch in my throat when my breasts push up against his rock-hard chest, a spear of heat hitting me right between mylegs.
The hug probably looks innocent enough, or maybe a little bit too friendly, but if anyone knew what was going on in my head...if anyone knew I met this man last night and let him fuck me hard and raw from behind in the bathroom of a divebar…
“Let me get you a drink,” he says, walking over to the small glass table covered with a white tablecloth where I used to sit and write poems about nature when I was a kid. Now it’s covered with an arrangement of empty glasses and a few bottles of embarrassingly expensive champagne that my father always purchases for specialoccasions.
I watch, captivated, as he pours a glass of champagne for each of us, keeping one for himself and putting one into myhand.
“I don’t know if I should be drinking,” I say sheepishly, watching his chest move in that devastatingly sexy crisp white shirt as he brings the glass to his lips, “but just one isokay.”
“Stop it,” he says, “you’re legalnow.”
I feel my belly flip over and the insides of my thighs get wet as a trickle of desire escapes from mypanties.
“Right,” I say, “I’m now technically legal. I can do anything Iwant.”
“You can buy cigarettes in New York,” he says, arching an eyebrow atme.
“Ew,” I say, “no. Definitelynot.”
“You can...adopt akid.”
My lips curl up into asmile.
“Not yet,” I say, “someday. And my first choice would be to have a biological child. But of course I would be open toadoption.”
