Authors: Riley Jean
Lovely.
A group of guys stood back eyeing the spectacle hungrily and biting their lips like they wanted a taste. It worked out well for me, considering if all eyes were on them, I would be free to dance by myself in peace.
Trying not to cough on the secondhand smoke, I approached the girl who called me over. She and a few other girls were dancing in the back. They smirked as I joined them. I smiled back—I loved to dance—and began bouncing side to side. Pop wasn’t my personal favorite, but it was easy to dance to. Lexi played it in our dorm room often so I knew enough of the current hits to enjoy myself.
As the rhythm picked up, my eyes fell closed. Everything else faded away as I moved my hips to the pulsing beat. Was there anything in the world more powerful, more impossible to resist, than music? My curls flung softly around me as I twisted and twirled, sashayed my arms and moved my entire body, connecting with the song as if we were the only two entities in the room.
Without warning, I was hit head-on with a heavy splash of liquid, my breath hitching in surprise. The bitter stench of cheap beer dripped from my hair and face, rolling over my heated skin and down the front of my shirt.
I had been in the zone, totally lost to the music, my surroundings forgotten. Out of nowhere I was drenched and everything else came back into focus. Gasps and giggles filled the room while I reached up to rub the wetness from my face with shaky fingers.
Oh, what a mess.
I looked down to survey the damage and stared in horror at my bright pink bra under my now see-through white top. The wetness had sealed the thin fabric to my skin, and everything that had been covered up was now brazenly on display. I hated attention on a good day; having everyone witness my impromptu wet t-shirt solo was like something out of a freakish nightmare.
I… was… mortified.
“Oops,” said a female voice behind me. Immediately I recognized her false sincerity. It was the same girl who had called me
adorable
earlier tonight. “Complete accident. I swear.”
A cruel chorus of laughs and taunts rung out as I stood there, drenched and stupefied. Tears of humiliation pricked my eyes at the stark reminder—I didn’t belong here and everyone knew it. Why had I even tried?
I turned away from them, ready to bolt, but hit a solid wall of flesh instead. Instinctually my arms wrapped themselves around the body in front of me as I hid my face in the nook of his chest. I had no idea who this person was or why I hadn’t bumped into him and just kept running. It was like this lost little girl needed something to grasp and just reached out for him.
The laughing crowd, the wet shirt, everything fell away in the warmth of his skin and his calming, masculine scent.
As I clung to him, his chest rumbled against my cheek, demanding, “What in the bloody blue hell is wrong with you?” Fierce waves of anger rolled off him, snapping me back to reality.
What was I thinking, molesting this half naked stranger while soaking wet and on the verge of tears? This night had been one disaster after another, and now I had managed to piss someone off. I just needed to get out of there. But the second I tried to pull away, one strong arm came around to hold me in place.
“I… I’m sorry,” stuttered the girl behind me.
I froze. Now I was really confused. I thought he had been talking to me.
“Brilliant. Now be a doll and apologize to the correct person,” he bit out.
Whoa, whoa,
whoa
. Was he sticking up for me? That really wasn’t necessary. I didn’t need a forced apology from the girl. She’d likely just put me on some sorority hit list later. I just wanted to leave.
The girl scoffed. “You must be kid—”
“Now.”
To my absolute dread, he shifted us so when I opened my eyes, I was looking straight into the face of one very irritated chick. She didn’t seem as drunk as she had earlier. I wasn’t sure if she had sobered, or if she had just been acting drunk earlier for the sake of… who knew?
She leered at me as if I were nothing more than the ants at her picnic. “Sorry, Scarlett,” she muttered through tight red lips.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
Just kill me. Kill me now.
She looked up to the man for approval. I couldn’t see his expression, but whatever it was might have actually made the girl wet herself in fear. She slinked away from us and within seconds, everyone returned to their own conversations. Someone turned the music volume back up, the girls around us resumed their dancing, and the game of quarters continued.
Meanwhile, I became hyperaware that I was wet and pressed up against a very shirtless stranger.
Awkward seconds ticked by as we stood unmoving in each other’s arms while the party carried on around us. I was almost too embarrassed to look upon his face. I wished—not for the first time tonight—that the floor would open up and swallow me whole. He held me patiently until I gathered my bearings and slowly detached myself.
The first thing I noticed was his incredible physique. He was built unlike anything I had ever seen in real life, well-muscled and lightly dusted with golden droplets of beer. Good looking boys I had grown accustomed to seeing around here were lean or toned, not deliciously sculpted into a vision of perfection worthy of screensavers everywhere.
Had I really just been pressed against this fine specimen? I belonged in his arms even less than I belonged at this party. He could have been in an underwear advertisement. I swallowed.
Or something a little less improper.
When had I turned into one of those girls? It wasn’t like me to ogle perfect strangers. I fought the urge to continue my perusal and looked up to the face of my defender.
I gasped when my gaze collided with a pair of startling blue eyes so brilliantly captivating, they seemed to twinkle at me even in the dim lighting. So deep and all-knowing, they saw beneath the innocent face, beyond the imposter, and straight into
me
. They rendered me immobile. They stripped me bare.
It was nothing profound, really. Just a subtle exchange of glances between two people passing in the night. Yet my heart knew it was also everything. The fleeting kind of sensation that only happens once in a lifetime; a moment… a connection with a perfect stranger. As if everything, all the doubts and confusion leading up to tonight suddenly made perfect sense.
Unbelievable as it may be, I felt it—right then and there—that this moment would forever alter the course of my life.
All thoughts of propriety and restraint flew out the window when I looked into those eyes. The slowest ever slow-motion smile graced his lips, and I blushed, convinced that he could read my mind. And why wouldn’t he? Certainly, with a face like this, with a body like that, and those eyes… good gracious, even a reserved girl could only take so much.
“There we are, love,” he said, gently using his fingers to wipe the wetness from my face. “No harm done, then?”
Blush re-colored my cheeks at his endearment. Not “cute.” Not “adorable.” Not even the standard guy accolade of “hot.” No, this handsome stranger just called me
“love.”
And in an accent that sounded like a song.
Again, he waited patiently for me to gather myself. But he would be waiting a long time because I might as well have been momentarily struck dumb.
…Words? Sorry. I’ve forgotten them all.
Once he realized I was incapable of speech, he took pity on me and spoke again.
“My apologies for saying bloody blue hell,” he offered.
That prompted a coy smile and even a tiny laugh from me. He appeared not to notice his state of undress so I pretended to do the same, intentionally keeping my eyes above his neck. Although the deep dimples and pink tint surely gave me away.
Encouraged, he brought his hand to my eye level and presented something bunched in his fingers.
“Go on,” he said gently, “Seems you need this more than me right now.”
Once I realized he was holding a t-shirt, my eyes locked on his blue ones again. The whole reason behind our collision clicked into place. After I was doused with the beer, he immediately stripped and rushed forward half-naked so he could give me the shirt off his own back.
It was like a scene from an old book that definitely would have been highlighted. Or the moment in a rom-com where the music built to a crescendo. That might have been the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me, and from a stranger no less! Just when I thought common decency was too much to expect…
Any hurt I felt over the girls’ cruelness was immediately replaced by a fuzzy tingle. I must have sensed something protective in this person, which is why I clung to him for comfort instead of continuing to run. My heart instantly warmed, and my ever-practical brain turned to mush.
Lest anyone see the revealing front of my shirt, he stood as close as possible to me, acting like a human shield. He slipped the new t-shirt over my head and I lifted my arms through the sleeve holes. Then he reached around my neck to help me pull my hair through as I drew the hem down. We worked together until I was properly covered, all the while his blue eyes never left mine.
His attentiveness surprised me. Guys were usually more interested in getting a girl
un
dressed. And here this Good Samaritan was helping me clothe myself!
The shirt was plain black and rather large on me, but I didn’t care. The cotton was soft and dry and it smelled like him. I bit my lip, feeling a twinge of guilt for ruining it with the stench of beer, but not sorry enough to give it back.
I watched intently as he used one long finger to wrap around a tendril of hair framing my face. What was once a shiny blond spiral had become a rat’s nest. Just my luck to meet this handsome stranger when I looked like such a mess. I fought against the insecurities that called for me to fidget.
As if he could read my thoughts, he dipped his chin and eyed me from under his dark lashes. “It looks even more dashing on you,” he winked. “Keep it. And try and stay out of trouble.”
Then, before I’d even gotten out a single, solitary word, he walked away.
It took about ten seconds for me to realize letting him go just wasn’t an option. No way fate had brought me this angel only to take him away again so soon.
Pushing away my qualms, I followed, squeezing through the crowds and searching faces. Finding him wasn’t difficult. His large stature practically filled the small space, calling to me like a beacon. He had his back towards me, head tilted down, zipping himself into a black hoodie.
“Thank you,” I called out, finally remembering my ingrained manners. At the sound of my voice, he stilled.
Nervous, I stepped closer, tugging at the hem of my shirt. “This almost put a damper on my dancing,” I joked.
When he finally turned and his twinkling blue eyes met mine, any feelings of not belonging were erased. I was so glad to be right here, right now.
One side of his lips tilted up, revealing the sexiest smirk I had ever seen. It was a good thing I had just spoken, because I’d need another minute before I could do it again.
“Well now, that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” He took a step forward and offered me a hand. Even a simple outstretched hand did things to me. “Shall we?” he said, in that old school classy sort of way.
Without needing one single second to think about it, I placed my small hand in his.
With an unwavering gaze, he led us back to the middle room. If someone were to shout my name right then, I wouldn’t have noticed. If people were still staring at me, I didn’t even care. The noise, the smoke and the bodies around us all paled next to the man with the musical voice and hypnotic blue eyes. My focus was solely on him. I would have followed him into traffic.
We came to a stop, inches apart, still glued at the hands and the eyes. In one smooth motion, he lifted my hand in the air and spun me in a full circle, first one direction and then the other, until I came to face him again. I had to lean forward and lay my free hand on his shoulder to steady myself, placing us even closer. Twirling didn’t usually have such a dizzying affect on me, so it was safe to guess that it wasn’t the dancing that had me off balance. Or short of breath.
He rested a large hand on my hip and pulled, bringing us into a formal dancing position. Barely breathing, I looked up at him, waiting for his cue. From this position I half-expected him to lead us in a sensual tango. Even though he appeared completely self assured, our contact had my heart pounding double-time.
When he bent down to whisper in my ear, my eyes glazed over. “Dance with me, Scarlett?” Then he straightened and looked down at me, eyes expectant, once again holding me in a trance.
If I opened my mouth, something overly enthusiastic and unladylike might’ve spilled out. Not trusting myself to speak, all I could manage was a nod.
And right there in the middle of adolescent chaos, we danced.
I loved that he wasn’t bumping and grinding against me, the way most boys danced. He moved fluidly to the music, connecting with the song and letting the rhythm guide us, using it to lead me. He wasn’t afraid to hold my hand or grip my hips as we danced, but he deliberately left a little space between us, which was refreshing.