Page 49 of The Pass
“You are pretty good at this planning dates thing for a guy who hasn’t done it before.”
We eat, conversation flows easily, as it always does with us. It doesn’t feel like much of a date at all, mostly, but the unfamiliar excitement in my gut and tingling through my fingertips as I press a hand to her lower back and lead her upstairs is the stuff of first dates that I didn’t realize I was missing out on. Though to be fair, I’m not sure I’d feel this way with anyone but Sydney.
It isn’t like there weren’t good times with Amelia, but Sydney’s right. I let her, and everyone else I dated, run the show. I treated dates almost like they were a reward for putting up with my insane schedule and the hundreds of nights they came over and just chilled because I couldn’t go out because of a practice or game the next day.
That’s my life. In between a fun night out once a week or once every few weeks when things are really busy, is a lot of nights of me going to bed early so I can be at my best. Letting my girlfriends pick the dates felt like the least I could do. Now I have to wonder if I should have been more excited to plan things like I am now.
Seeing Sydney’s face when we get to the balcony on the top floor of this club tells me everything I need to know. One, planning dates for her is fun. Two, I don’t want to go back to relationships where I’m a passive participant. And three, fuck all my good intentions and reasons for holding out.
16
Sydney
Tanner grabsme a drink from the bar and we sit on a low sofa on the balcony. It’s a clear night and the moon and stars create a light show on the lake. I lean into him to steal some of his warmth and he pulls me closer.
“It’s amazing up here.” The wind blows my hair around my face and into Tanner’s.
“I’m not sure how you can even see it.” He uses both hands to brush my hair out of my face.
Goose bumps dot my arms as he continues to touch me and look at me like I’m the only other person out here. Something changed over dinner. One minute we were Tanner and Sydney, best friends who want more, and the next we were two people on a first date with insane chemistry ready to rip each other’s clothes off. I can see it on his face. No matter how hard he’s trying to hide it or stick to his five-date plan. He’s breaking.
“Cold?” He rubs my arms from shoulder to wrist.
“I’m okay.”
“Liar. Your nipples are saluting me.” His gaze falls to my chest, as does mine.
I press against him and he wraps me up so that his chin rests on top of my head. “I really dig your boobs. Especially when they’re rubbing against me.”
A burst of laughter escapes and I lift my head forcing him to create enough space so I can look him in the eye. “Really? They’re so small.” I push them out and his blue eyes watch with rapt interest.
“They’re perfect… and now I’m hard.” With a groan, he stands and takes my hand. “Dance with me.”
That seems like the worst way to get rid of a boner, but what do I know? The dance floor is practically empty. It isn’t that late – definitely not clubbing hour, and it is Sunday night. Most people are probably home resting up for the week or recovering from the weekend.
The few other people out here care about us as much as we do them, though. We’re all in our own little bubbles. Tanner’s a good dancer. He doesn’t do it much back at Valley, but on a few drunken occasions, I’ve been able to pull him onto a frat party dance floor.
Moving to the beat, he keeps one hand on my hip, holding on to the spandex fabric of my dress like he’s keeping me from moving farther away. As if I’d try.
I lean into the touch wanting more. So much more. He gives it to me, spreading his long fingers out so they splay out over my rib cage. The heat of him and his familiar scent vibrate through me with the music.
We’re in sync without trying. Each time I move closer, so does he, until we’re chest to chest. I rest my arms on his shoulders, and he now has both hands on either side of my waist. We’re junior high dancing. The kind where our hands are in appropriate places, but the bad intentions fill the space between us. Hormones and indecisions are so thick it’s hard to breathe.
Tilting my head up, I bring our lips close. His gaze darts to my mouth and his eyes darken. This is it. He’s going to kiss me again. It has to be him. I’ve made the move too many times.
“Come on, there’s some place else I want to dance with you.” He takes off, pulling me behind him without waiting for a response.
I fight off the sting of disappointment that he’s able to hold back when I feel like I’ll die from unrequited lust. I need him in a way that is about so much more than sex.
The club is set up so that the dance floor and bar are inside, and the seating area, where we were sitting earlier, is outside on the balcony so it’s quieter and easier to talk. I think that’s where he’s leading me, but instead he stalks out of the club, down through the restaurant, and back outside the way we came in a couple of hours ago.
I’m curious, but keep my questions to myself as he holds on tight to my hand while speed walking to the boat. Helping me on board, he says, “I’ll apologize later for the abrupt ending to our first date, but I needed to do this without an audience.”
His mouth slams onto mine catching me by surprise, but breaking the small amount of control I was holding up. I press back, attacking his mouth in a desperate way, trying to convey just how much I want this. I’ll let him lead because I know it’s important to him, but he’ll have no doubt how much I want him.
His grip on my body is possessive and demanding. Those big hands roam over my waist and back, and thread through my hair. The thing about Tanner’s insistence to do everything the right way this time (besides being incredibly sexually frustrating) is that in trying to give me exactly what I want, he’s doing the opposite. Iwantto get naked, dammit.
People change. Their needs and wants evolve with time and experiences. Two years ago, I was a girl who was terrified of getting her heart broken again, but I’m not that girl anymore. I’ve realized in that time that I’ve broken my own heart more times than anyone else. I’ve let people walk all over me, I’ve been afraid to ask for what I want, and I’ve dated people who were all wrong for me because I couldn’t risk wanting my best friend and having him reject me a second time.
