Page 62 of Pucking Matt
But there she is…with Jen, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. But damn, she’s in a red dress, looking every bit of––even with that ridiculous flannel shirt, she's turning heads.
My brain short-circuits for a moment. There's no way she's here for me, right? Jen must have bribed her or blackmailed her.
“Matt? Are you even listening to me?” Michelle's voice brings me back to reality.
“Sorry, what?” I say, not taking my eyes off Amber.
Michelle follows my gaze, her expression souring. “Oh, I see. You're into the Grind Stone girl now?”
I don't bother responding. I watch as Jen makes a beeline for Harvey, leaving Amber standing awkwardly by herself and observing the dance floor like it's some kind of alien mating ritual.
Before I know what I'm doing, I'm on my feet. “I already told you how it is, Michelle.”
As I make my way through the crowd, I can't help but wonder what I'm even going to say to Amber. 'Hey, nice flannel'? 'Come here often'? God, when have I ever been this nervous? It must be the headache.
But as I get closer, I realize I don't care. For the first time all night, I feel a spark of something other than annoyance. And if nothing else, riling up Amber is always guaranteed to be entertaining.
I slide up next to her, adopting my most nonchalant pose. “I didn't think parties were your scene, Grind Stone girl.”
Amber jumps slightly, her hand clutching her chest. She turns to face me, her eyes narrowing. “Matt. Don’t you have a list of women to tend to? I’m sure they’re all dying to talk to you instead.”
I shrug. “I had to say hi to my friend.”
She laughs. “Friends…right. In your dreams, maybe.”
“Oh, so you're dreaming about me now?” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively. “I'm flattered.”
Amber rolls her eyes so hard I'm worried they might get stuck. “You're impossible.”
I’m leaning down, so I look up at her. Her eyes meet mine. She’s wearing makeup, and her hair is in that cute messy bun. “You came,” I muster the courage to point out.
She inhales, her breasts pressing against the straight line of her dress. I don’t have to look down to notice it. I swear I’m not peeking. This is all happening in my peripherals.
“I did,” she says, covering herself with the flannel.
I stick out my hand. “Then let’s make the most of it.”
Hesitating, she blushes and takes my hand. I pull her through the crowd until we’re in the middle of the dance floor. She’s watching me closely as I release her hand and start dancing. She covers her face with her hands, smiling. I let my body feel the rhythm of the music, and my feet move to the beat. She’s embarrassed at first, but then she starts to move her body and I’m relieved. We start dancing together, and I feel a little more alive and a lot less lost.
She grabs my shoulders when I get too close for her liking. She laughs in my face when I start to do the shimmy back and forth. Then she breaks into a funny dance move, so now I’m laughing with her. The headache I had earlier disappears.
And this place right here.
I was meant to be here.
Dancing with Amber.
Making her laugh.
Under her gaze.
Her fingertips graze my hand, so I gently reach for her. When she lets me grab her waist under her flannel, I glance down at her plush lips. Her smile drops as she observes me. I’m loving her face this close. I never want it to end.
As I look deep into her eyes, I’ve never seen them shine like this before. It’s like stars are in them, and I’m wondering if they’re for me. I search her face for any ideas of what she’s thinking.
As for me? It’s just her. Only her.
I don’t belong anywhere but here. Her fingers fall on the back of my neck, and her touch electrifies every nerve in my body. I pull her into me as she watches closely. Our noses touch, and when I feel her breath on mine, it’s like she’s giving me life. I glide the tip of my nose on her cheek. She inhales, clutching at my neck. I search her eyes on what I can do next, and I think I have permission, but I don’t push.
