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“Well, I can be nice at times.” The song ends, and I make an excuse to leave the dance floor. “Thank you for the dance. It was nice. Even if it was with you.”
I laugh, and he joins me as I walk back to the bar. We continue our conversation and game of questions until last call. The one bottle sustained us since we danced and even joined in the fun of the crowd when singing songs like YMCA or Macarena. He told me he loved the way my hips moved when I was doing the dance steps. I blushed at his comment, which rendered me speechless.
“Greene, are you driving home?”
“Call me Simone, and no, I sent for an Uber. I’m gonna go stand outside to catch some fresh air while I wait.”
“Mind if I join you? Warning, I’m coming either way. I have to make sure no one messes with you.”
I throw my hands up, giving into his request/demand. I grab my wristlet and offer to pay for half the bar tab. Shot down again.
He places his arm around my waist and steadily guides me outside where we wait for the driver.
“This was nice. Maybe we can do this again? But with dinner?” he says.
“Lucas Weathers, are you asking me out on a date?” I giggle through my question, not because it’s funny, but we’re rivals, and tonight, that disappeared.
“Maybe,” he replies with a smile.
“If I said yes, how will we coordinate our outing?”
“Are you saying yes?” He looks at me with those damned eyes, and his bottom lip glistens in the glare of the streetlight.
“Maybe,” I retort, using his single word against him. I go into my wristlet to get my house key out and drop the whole damn thing.
He bends to help me pick up the contents, and when we stand, you can’t deny the electricity between us. It’s been building all night, and I swear it’s like a powder keg about to go off.
“Here’s your pen,” he says, breaking the tension.
Words fail me once again as I stand there, my breath catching and my mouth slightly ajar until I bite my bottom lip. I cast my gaze away from his stare, only for it to land on his fitted jeans and the semi-erection they’re holding hostage. I glance back up, meeting his intent glare. My emotions are building within me, and I’m about to lose my composure.
“Fuck it,” I say and I crash my mouth onto his.
Our tongues swirl and dip in and out of each other’s mouths, neither wanting to concede to the other. The tips of his fingers gently press against the back of my head the deeper he dives into my mouth. I don’t know where this attraction is stemming from—the alcohol, open conversation, natural stimulation—but I am enjoying every minute of it. The passion comes to an abrupt halt when the Uber driver arrives.
“Call for Simone?” he says when he pulls up beside the curb.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I acknowledge.
“I guess I’ll see you at work on Monday,” Lucas says, turning away and beginning to walk towards his car.
I don’t reply. Instead, I grab his hand and pull him into the car with me, because I always close the deal.
