“Fine,” he says between songs, “I’ll let you off the hook but that means you have to take the dare.”
“Okay.” I take his offer in a breathless rush of words. “But I’m not taking off any clothes or having sex up on the stage so don’t even think about it.”
“How’d you know what I was thinking?” he jokes. He takes my hand just as the first chords to a slower-pace song start. Sounds like Aretha Franklin. “Come with me.” He pushes his way to the aisle.
“You have to tell me first!” I hiss.
He grins, his eyes flashing with mischief. “Nope. You’ll have to wait and see. Unless you want to answer my questions...”
I set my jaw. “Go ahead. I’m up for it.”
He leads me to the aisle and down the steps to the area between the bleachers and the stage. The crowds don’t notice at first, but when he stops in the wide-open space and wraps his arm around my waist, I panic.
“You want to dance, here? In front of everyone?”
He smiles this sultry smile and slowly moves his body back and forth. He guides my hips to move in beat with the music and his own gyrating body. His left hand traces down the side of my body and then back up.
I fight off the shiver and the desire to let loose.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he whispers in my ear.
I move to the music, to him, and the heat rising up in my body in reaction to him. His body. His smile. And his eyes, which haven’t left mine, not for a second. My breath hitches. And I let go. I forget the crowds. I forget my embarrassment. I’ll show him that every good girl has their bad side.
Taking a deep breath and feeling thankful my dad isn’t around, I lift my hands up through my hair, revealing my neck and dance around him. He grabs my waist and I arch back and then up again.
The band takes advantage of our bold actions. They invite others to join. Soon, couples surround us, dirty dancing. I let out a laugh. Wisps of air thread through my inhibitions, creating a rush inside. Freedom. I can almost taste it.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, voice rough.
I nod. We leave the crowds. No one misses us as half the bleachers are squeezed onto the floor in front of the stage. The farther we walk from the bandstand, the music fades, but the thrill I felt doesn’t.
“Ready for part two?” I ask. Now I’m the one with the evil smirk, anxious to bring him up to my bedroom.
At first he doesn’t say anything, just glances at his watch. I recognize the look and doubt the emotion we felt and what I heard in his voice. He was the one who asked me to leave. “Ready for part two?”
He pulls me into a goodbye squeeze, I can tell. His lips find my head again and he mumbles something about plans and work and it’s his turn next. Before I know it, I’m left standing in front of the Inn, watching him rev up his bike and drive away. What just happened? What went wrong? In a daze, I trudge up to my room and shut the door. I sit on the floor, letting the picnic on my floor I’d set up earlier blur in and out of focus.
I hear a soft knock on the door. I know it’s Justine. She must’ve seen me come in alone. “Come on in.”
She sits across from me. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. It was great and then all of a sudden he had to leave.” I pluck a chocolate covered strawberry and take a bite.
Justine pours us both a glass of champagne. I guzzle it down. I spent a couple hours earlier planning this picnic in my measly attempt to provide some romance.
“I think I’m just a distraction for him, the flavor of the month.” Or maybe he’s using me to help his good boy image as he works for his father.
“I doubt that. He could have a lot of girls, but he’s choosing to spend time with you. Maybe he had to work at the new job?”
“At night?”
Justine shrugs. “Just saying.”
He’s hiding something from me. A gut feeling tells me that. Either that or it’s the guilt for keeping my own secrets. Shaking off the rejection, I force a laugh and talk with Justine as we chow down on the rest of the picnic. I try not to look at the closet and the beach bag full of cash stuffed toward the back.
Chad
After leaving our date so abruptly the other night, I felt like a complete asshole, but I can’t share with her the exact details of my internship and why it calls for odd hours. That’s the way it goes with drug dealing. And I’m having a hard time even spotting Henry Kingston IV.
Katie made such an effort to have fun and show me a good time to help my reputation while working for my father. That’s what floors me. I’ve never had a girl go out with me with the sole goal of making sure I had fun. So now it’s my turn to offer Katie the excitement she’s looking for. No boring dates of dinner and then a romantic movie that puts us to sleep. That won’t do it for her. She needs something more original. She needs a custom-planned date.