Page 17 of One Hundred Lights
I slip my phone back into my bag. I could use a drink. Something to cool me down. Maybe a cold shower instead.
Chelsea walks in with two of her friends. She’s two years older than Jackson, but I know her group almost as well as his from Reese’s stories. She scans the room but quickly turns away from where I’m standing. Maybe she doesn’t see me, but most likely she does and is continuing to blow me off. I don’t blame her. She hasn’t acknowledged me since I announced my break from their family. I curl my hands in and out of fists, regretting how things went down, wishing I could do it all over again. The right way.
But was there a right way? I thought that’s what I was doing.
I ended up alone, anyway.
Chelsea and her friends join another group of giggling girls standing at the edge of the dance floor.
“You look beautiful, Britt.”
I snap my head to Adrian, standing next to me dressed in a full tuxedo, one hand in his pocket, looking like some kind of suburban dad version of James Bond.
“Hi,” I squeak and soak in his freshly shaven jaw, lightly styled hair, and wide, dark eyes trained on me.
His eyes drift down my neck, bare shoulders, over the curve of my breasts, and down to my exposed legs. A shiver runs up my spine as he raises his gaze back to my face. Adrian takes a step toward me and I imagine him pulling me in close against his body, kissing my neck.
“It looks gorgeous in here. You did a spectacular job.”
I nod, still mute, thinking about him calling me beautiful. He lifts his hands and places one on each of my upper arms, slowly sliding them down until they reach my elbows.
“Hey. You okay?” His brow furrows and he leans toward me, so close.
“Of course.” The tingles from his touch break my freeze. “Sorry, I was just... overwhelmed for a second. A tux, huh?”
He grins and drops his hands to do his James Bond pose again. “I needed to show these kids how you get dressed up for a lady.”
“Which lady would that be?” I look over my shoulder as if there’s some formally dressed woman lingering behind me.
Adrian chuckles. “Where’s the bar? Surely there’s a chaperone-only bar?”
“Um. High school and middle school dance? No bar. But I wish there were.”
“See, this is why I never volunteer.”
The DJ’s voice booms from the speakers, announcing the first slow song of the night. Romantic guitar strums fill the gym.
“How about that dance?”
Butterflies explode in every part of my body as Adrian holds his hand out to me. How could I say no? Should I? Not a chance. I put my hand in his. He turns to the middle of the gym, then hesitates, scanning the room.
“Hey.” I gently tug his hand, and when he shifts his gaze to me, I nod my head toward the curtained supply area behind us, which I know is piled with cases of water, snacks, storage bins, and other dance items.
He cringes, but relief floods his face as well. “It’s better the kids don’t see us, okay?”
“I agree. Now come on.”
I lead Adrian around the curtain, and as soon as we’re behind it, he pulls me into his arms, sliding one hand around my waist, grasping my other hand with his and holding it up by our shoulders. We keep eye contact and I’m sure he can feel the blood rushing through my body like molten lava in a volcano. We remain a few inches apart, and I have to hold back from pressing my full body against his. God, I want to feel him against me.
“Just so you know, I have no problem with us dancing together. Hanging out together. I just wouldn’t want the kids to see us and speculate, you know?”
I breathe out. “Not that there’s anything to speculate on, right? I feel like there’s been enough speculation in this area to last us a lifetime.”
He blinks about a billion times and moves his hand gently on the small of my back, sending sparks to my core. I close my eyes for a beat. I wish away the guilt that’s attempting to suffocate me.
“Britt. Look at me.”
I drag open my eyes, drowning in the intensity that I find in his.
