Page 9 of Fall From Grace
I went to school dances with Mike, and we danced together, but not at all like how Sloane is grinding and twerking on Elias. I don’t even know if I can move my body the way she’s moving hers. I stand there for a good minute, watching her and trying to mimic her, before I give up and sway to the beat in a way that’s probably boring as heck.
But, hey, I guess I’m a boring as heck person, so that fits.
I don’t know how long it is before someone slips behind me and pulls my backside against him, but it’s at least five or more songs. It’s hard to keep track. I’m so focused on not looking like a fool that I can’t help but widen my eyes when I feel the stranger’s hands on me.
Sloane watches with a smirk, and then she leans into me—and though I don’t hear her well at all, I’m pretty sure she shouts something along the lines of “He’s cute.”Hebeing the man behind me, I guess.
I flush and don’t respond, although I might only be flushing because it’s hot as heck here, surrounded by all these people. The air on the dance floor is thick with sweat and tension, to the point where it’s difficult to breathe.
Though my first instinct is to pull away from the guy behind me, I resist. Barely. I stay right where I am even though his hands on me make me feel like I want to crawl out of my skin, go home, and throw on a hoodie, dive underneath a mountain of blankets and never be seen again.
Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be home underneath a few blankets. There’s no cozier feeling. The weight, the warmth; it helps calm me down, as silly as it is.
After a while, I get tired. I don’t know how anyone does this for hours and hours on end. How and why do people think this is fun? I’m exhausted already, and unless I’m mistaken, I actually see a few girls around in heels.
Heels. Heck no. No thanks to that. I’d never wear heels on a good day, let alone to a club. Are they crazy?
I make a sipping motion to Sloane, hoping to tell her I need a break to grab something to drink. She gives me a nod and then turns her back to me, grinding her front on Elias now, and just like that, it’s like I don’t exist to them. Those two are in their own reality together.
I don’t look back at the guy behind me as I pull away and slip through the crowd of dancing people. He doesn’t try to stop me. Whoever he is, he’ll probably find some other girl to dance with. Whatever. Tonight is about forcing myself out of my comfort zone, doing things I wouldn’t normally do. Dancing with a stranger is definitely one of them.
I finally make it through the crowd and head for the bartender. The counter is a little too high for me to lean on it, so I have to stand there, waiting to catch the guy’s attention. He’s currently mixing drinks for a pair of girls on the far side ofthe bar, girls who are apparently old enough to get fun-looking, alcohol-infused drinks.
Hmm. I wonder if I’ll have to pay for water here.
I wait for what must be a minute before I sigh. The bartender is now deep in what looks to be a riveting conversation with the pair of girls—girls who are all giggly and flirty.
Is that what guys want? Smiles and batting of eyelashes?
The person next to me at the bar, a guy drinking what looks like a beer, takes a sip before he says, “You’ll be waiting a long time if you don’t call him over.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it, but I know he’s not wrong, so I sigh again.
The guy beside me turns his head, and after I’m finished sighing, we meet eyes. Though it’s dark in here, the strobing lights are more than enough, and I think the recognition dawns in both of us at exactly the same time.
“Wait,” he says, eyeing me up and down. “The nerd from the bookstore.”
Yep. Somehow, out of everybody who could possibly be standing at the bar at this exact moment, I’m beside the jerk I met earlier today in the student union, the one who made the comment that he’s glad he didn’t know me.
And, I hate to report, he’s just as hot as I remember him being. Maybe even more so with the way his black hair is a bit messier than it was then.
“I’m not a nerd,” I tell him as forcefully as I can, not letting the cat take my tongue this time.
He chuckles and turns his body toward mine, taking me in yet again—this time, I can tell he’s taking his time in checking me out, undoubtedly a side effect of the clothes I’m wearing. “Just because you clean up nicely doesn’t make you not a nerd,” he finally says, giving me a lazy half smirk.
I roll my eyes at him. “You…” I grind my jaw and glare at him with what I hope is a defiant expression. “You’re a jerk. I don’tlike you.” Hmm I probably could’ve put that in better terms, but whatever.
The guy laughs, like it’s genuinely amusing to him. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Most people don’t like me, so.” He shrugs, and it’s then I realize just how wide those shoulders of his are. He wears all black, but beneath that shirt is what must be a well-muscled body.
I end up moving my eyes off him, not wanting to stare at him too much. I go back to waiting for the bartender to notice me.
The guy, whoever he is, doesn’t get the picture. He says, “So what’s a nerd like you doing dressed up in a place like this? This can’t be your normal scene.”
I hold back a groan. “I came here to have fun, not that it’s any of your business.” To have fun and maybe hook up with someone, but I’m still hesitant on that part. I built myself up for so long, and where did it bring me? Where did it leave me? Here, with nothing but heartache.
“Are you?”
I blink and meet his eyes. “Am I what?”
“Are you having fun?”
