When We Met

By the following week our space already looked fairly put together. All of the lumber had been stained and the shelving units created. The only two tasks that remained were the staging and decorating. I’d finished building days ago and I didn’t need to help with anything else, but all I wanted to do was steal more moments with Chloe in the pop-up shop.

Even though our time together had an expiration date, this project felt as much mine as hers and I wanted to see it through. Plus it kept my mind off what was bothering me at home.

My mother was begi

I was pretty sure Chloe figured out that I didn’t need to hang around anymore, either, but she never said a word. Every day that I showed up, she looked grateful. And happy to see me. And that kept me coming.

“Can you hoist the tape over the top of this pipe? I can’t reach,” Chloe said.

“Bet you’re missing those heels,” I said, grabbing the roll of filament from her grasp.

“Bet you are, too,” she countered, arching a playful eyebrow.

We’d been doing this a lot more lately—flirting with each other. It made me nearly desperate for the opportunity to touch her.

What that meant exactly, I wasn’t sure. We were great in our confined space together. I was fairly certain that she didn’t let anyone else know what we were up to, besides my aunt Jaclyn—and especially not her overbearing mother. Nor that we had hung out a couple of times. That bothered me at first—really bothered me. But now I got it. She had been kept on a short leash and pretty sheltered.

After hanging a few of the silver movie reels on opposite walls, I said, “Truth or dare?”

She seemed so at ease tonight, it actually surprised me when she said, “Truth.”

Darn. I had hoped I could convince her to go somewhere with me on a dare. I’d have to try a different approach.

“Hmm . . . if I asked you to come see my friend’s live band at Club Utopia . . . would you say yes?”

She immediately began twirling her hair around her fingers and I almost regretted trying to persuade her into going out with me at all.

It felt like an entire minute had passed by before she finally agreed. “Yes.”

I appreciated that she was remaining open to ideas and I really liked seeing that fire in her eyes—that small flicker that was awakened when she took a chance and tried something that was outside her comfort zone.

As we made our way to the door, she swept her hands down her clothes as if to smooth them out and said, “Is this okay—what I’m wearing?”

She had on a vintage Coca-Cola T-shirt from my aunt’s shop, tight jeans, and her pink Converse sneakers. I reined in my dirty thoughts about how amazing her breasts looked beneath that thin cotton material and how the denim stretched over her womanly hips.

“Actually it’s perfect for where we’re going.”

I could practically hear her gulp and that made me grin.

When we got inside the club, she nervously looked around the lively joint. The opening band was hard rock, the speakers were blaring, and the floor was packed with fans trying to get as close to the stage as possible.

“Can I . . . get you something to drink?” I said, against her hair. She shivered, as if I’d surprised her by being so near.

She placed her mouth next to my ear and I nearly crawled out of my skin. Her lips were warm and as she spoke they buzzed against my flesh. “I don’t really drink. I don’t like—”

“Feeling out of control?” I said, finishing her sentence.

She nodded, biting her lip, as if I’d think she was a freak of nature, when in actuality I admired that type of self-discipline. How could I not? “No biggie. At all.”

I’d actually been nervous about becoming an alcoholic myself, but after reading all the literature and going through this with Mom too many times to count, I knew that I could stop after one or two beers. That was the difference. Now I just needed to keep a close eye on my brother.

“Can I just take a couple of sips of whatever you’re having?”

“Sure.” We moved over to the bar, where I ordered my beer. She took two grateful swallows for some form of liquid courage and handed it back. She seemed to have no problem placing her lips where mine had just been, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her mouth—especially her full bottom lip—as I sipped from the bottle after her.

My friend Nick, the drummer for the headline band, sought me out in the back of the bar and clapped me on the back. “Thanks for coming, man.”

When I introduced Chloe, she politely said hello, but I got the impression that she wanted to disappear from his scrutiny.

After he left to begin his set, I said, “You feel out of your element here, don’t you?”

She nodded. “Kinda. Sorry.”

Before I could respond, the music started and the place erupted over the first song. People began yelling and swaying and Chloe looked around in awe. I stood behind her against the back wall, and just like at the live theater production, I felt this insane need to protect her, to create our own little personal zone.

But by the third song, she seemed to get into the music and was swaying back and forth as they covered a popular tune. She mouthed a few of the words, which was so damned sexy. My arm kept brushing hers as I took sips of my beer, and I felt almost desperate to tangle our fingers together.

What would she think if I did? She was such a “play by the rules” kind of girl that I was pretty sure she might freak. Still our time together was coming to an end and I felt the burgeoning desire to get closer to her, to see what this chemistry was all about. You could probably walk on the tightrope of tension between us.

After I finished my first beer, I felt a little bolder. I wasn’t feeling a buzz quite yet, but my confidence and yearning to test our attraction hit its peak.

When I carefully placed my fingers on her shoulders, I studied her reaction. Her body seemed to tremble beneath my touch, and that only egged me on.

“Truth or dare?” I asked, and her eyes met mine, holding the co

A rash of color sprinkled across her cheeks and she looked so damned irresistible. A momentary guise of uncertainty crossed her features before she took a deep breath. “Dare.”

My lips sought her ear before she could change her mind. “Your pick. Do something spontaneous.”

Her gaze swept around the bar unsteadily before something seemed to click and settle in her eyes. I could see her ticking through the idea in her brain. She nodded and then stepped forward out of my grasp.

She made her way to the middle of the writhing bodies, closer to the stage. Her back was to me and I noticed the tightly coiled tension in her shoulders. She stood there for several long minutes, watching the band and the people around her. Then to my utter astonishment, she lifted her arms in the air and began swinging her hips in time to the music.

Her ass looked sweet and if I had been standing directly behind her like I’d been moments before, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my fingers from sliding around her waist and moving in close. So damned close. The front of my jeans tightened in response.

Some dude with long hair dancing next to her turned in her direction to check her out. His eyes slid from her breasts down to her crotch and I balled my fists in response. Damn, was I really feeling jealous over this girl? The same girl who had driven me up a fucking wall for so many weeks?

Now the guy stepped in front of her, shifted his hand to her hip, and matched her efforts. She bristled in response, and just as I was about to head over and push him the hell away, she brought her hand to his shoulder. In her profile, I saw her nod and grin.