Page 8 of The Dance
“No, but I need help with my shorts.” She bit her lip.
“All right.” How was I to say no to a lady in distress? I flicked on the light, and after shutting the door behind me, Stacey jumped up and sat on the counter. “I thought you had to pee?”
“I’d rather you kiss me.”
I locked the door and stood between her parted legs. “Kiss you where, toots?”
She stared at me for a beat and then whispered, looking straight into my eyes, “All over.”
Slowly, my head leaned in to capture her lips with mine. Right before they met, everything went black, and the music turned off.
“Son of a bitch!” I heard Jimmy yell.
I took my phone out of my pocket and used the built-in flashlight. “Looks like the power is out.”
“When will it come back on?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Not sure, but maybe we should get you home.”
“You’re blowing me off?” Stacey stuck out her bottom lip.
“No, we have plans for tomorrow, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
“Which, that reminds me. Give me your phone.” I held out my hand, and she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and gave it to me. I sent myself a text. “I’ll text you in the morning what time I’m picking you up.”
“Okay.”
Taking a step back, I stuck out my hand again to help her off the counter. “Let me drive you home.”
“My momma always told me not to get in cars with strangers.”
“How’d you get here?” I deadpanned, assuming neither one of the girls drove.
“Oh.” Stacey snorted. “A stranger’s car.”
“Exactly.” I laced her fingers with mine and opened the door. Everyone was using their phones as flashlights. “You came with Molly?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you two live together?”
“Yeah.”
“Yo, Dyl,” I called to him. “I’m taking Stacey and Molly home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Molly whined and clung to Dylan’s arm.
“Well, I’m Dylan’s ride, so we can move this to your place,” I suggested.
“Only if we stop for food,” Molly countered.
“Deal.”
We said our goodbyes and made our way out the front door. The rain was still coming down hard. My pickup was parked in the circular drive, and after Stacey gave me the address of their apartment, I headed the way my GPS directed.
“There’s a Whataburger on the corner,” Stacey mumbled as she leaned her head on the passenger side window. Dylan and Molly were in the back seat of the small cab.
