At least it isn’t a date-like meeting. Like going out to dinner or to the movies, or meeting at a dog park, or rollerblading on the pier. We are just two friends who met through an app and are now meeting in person for the first time. There’s no guarantee that when we find ourselves face to face that we’ll get along. Although he swore there would be no macadamia nuts so that’s promising.
And I have no clue what he looks like. Only that he’s bringing a box of our favorite cereal so I’ll be able to spot him. Um, somehow, in this crowd. Perhaps we didn’t think this thing through.
But it was last minute. We both decided to hell with it since we’re not going to get caught up in each other and we get along so well. Why shouldn’t we meet and be friends?
Yep, just two people meeting under the watchful eye of my closest gal pal and a half-dozen bartenders I don’t know who will all be aware that Lily Kelly is in the house within the next ten minutes. Licking the salt off my hand, I knock back the tequila and wedge the lemon between my teeth. I definitely need to drink.
“So what do you think he looks like?” Kiki asks as she places her shot glass back on the counter and picks up her cocktail. “Tall? Handsome? Or do you think he’s the guy wearing the Wookie costume?”
I follow her line of sight. There’s a Wookie at eighties night? Who knew? But he isn’t holding a box of cereal above his head like it’s a boom-box. “I don’t think that’s him.”
“What about that guy?” She points out a guy in a black leotard, black leather, and a black curly wig. He has a full face of white makeup. Except for a black star over his eye.
He spots us staring at him and sticks his tongue out.
“No cereal.” I choke on my drink.
“Yeah, but what a tongue.” Kiki sighs and I feel like I’m missing the joke.
“Okay so we need to find a guy with a red cereal box? That’s what’s going to differentiate him from what everyone else is wearing?” She raises an eyebrow.
“So it wasn’t the best idea.” Though we both thought it was hilarious when we were making plans. I check my phone. No message. And he’s late. Or we just haven’t spotted each other yet. I mean that probably is it. I send him a message telling him I’ll be near the dance floor. “Maybe we should forget it.”
“Uh-uh.” She grabs my hand. “You’re not wimping out of here until we’ve at least danced to one of these bangers.”
“Bangers? Really?” I hurry to keep up with her as we fight the flow of traffic going in the opposite direction to get to the dance floor. Still no cereal box carrying guys, pirate or otherwise.
“Yes. Eighties music is awesome.” She pulls me onto the dance floor.
“You learned that from Trix, didn’t you?” It’s just another one of those weird slang type things that most of us don’t understand.
She shrugs and starts bopping to the music. “I like it.”
One song finishes and another starts.
“Oh my Lord,” Kiki mouths, her eyes growing to saucers at whatever is going on behind me. Or whoever.
Maybe my perverted pirate friend finally showed up. And he’s either drop dead gorgeous, or the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man is sneaking up behind me.
A hand glides around my upper arm in a firm grip and turns me around.
“Vale?” What is he doing here? He’s supposed to be in Chicago.
He’s wearing a floral button down shirt like the one that Tom Cruise wore in Cocktail. It’s truly hideous, but it matches his eyes. How can he still be so damned sexy?
Furious blue eyes stare down at me. His lips brush my ear and a shiver wiggles its way down my spine. He smells so good, the way he always does. His voice is steel, quiet and furious, “What did you do to your hair?”
I touch the loose fiery strands of my ponytail where they graze the side of my neck. I momentarily forgot that I went all out on this Cindy Lauper costume. It’s a temporary color I sponged on this evening and will come out with the first wash. Well, maybe two washes. “Do you like it?”
“No.” His breath is a hot blast against my pulse point. His hands grip my hips and drag me closer. “I hate it.”
I blink. It’s because it’s me, right? If it was any other girl this hair would make me exactly his type. My hands land on his chest. We’re dancing. Together. It’s strange. It shouldn’t be, but now everything is weird between us. “Well, don’t worry, I didn’t wear it like this for you.”
“I know that,” he says. “You had no clue I was here since you refuse to answer your phone or respond to my text messages.”
“What are you doing here?” My breath catches, because somewhere in my wildest fantasies I swear we’ve been here before. Only he wasn’t angry in my imagination. He was tearing my clothes off.
“I’m here for you,” he says.
My insides clench, because oh boy, that is exactly what he’d say if this was my fantasy. “What does that mean?”
“You’re not talking to me and I really can’t handle that. I needed to fix it. So I volunteered to come work out here for a few weeks. So we could deal with this little issue between us. I went to see you, but you weren’t home. “And now I’ve found you—”
“You just expect us to fix things?”
“I don’t want to fight.” His eyes tighten in the corners, the creases there deepening. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I just want everything to go back to normal.”
I free myself from his strong hands. Leave the dance floor. Push my way through the crowd. I need space. A lot of it. I can’t just switch off these feelings and pretend everything is fine.
“Lily,” he shouts as he follows after me.
I don’t know where Kiki is. Behind us or back on the dance floor? I twist my way through the wannabe cast of Miami Vice and push between two Madonnas having a spat over Teen Wolf.
“Stop and talk to me.” He grasps my forearm.
I whirl around. “I’m not ready to. Can’t you see that? I need time and space to get over the embarrassment and my stupid crush.”
In his eyes, I see the moment that impenetrable wall comes crashing down.
He pulls me against him so fast my head spins. Captures my body with a hand to the middle of my shoulders. With the other hand he tilts my face and takes my mouth with his. His lips are firm and searing against my own. His tongue demands my capitulation. Our mouths war, seeking each other’s intimate hollows. Tasting each other.
I bunch his shirt in my fist as though I plan to use it as leverage to climb his chiselled body. His hands move to my hips and his fingers dig in. Leaving marks. He’s possessive and rough. Like he’s unhinged. Like he’s lost the battle and the only way to win now is to take the spoils.
And the spoils are sweet. They’re everything I imagined they would be. His teeth nip at my lip. His tongue makes promises that make my panties melt. My whole body is a whimpering, needy ball of putty by the time he releases me.
He touches my swollen lips with the pad of his thumb. His eyes are dark like the ocean at midnight. His lips are parted and glossy as he catches his breath. “Now we’re even.”
I gasp as I step back. My heart is racing a million miles an hour and my mouth is puffy and tastes like him. “We’re even?”