Chapter Eighteen
Arden
ThemoreIwatchher, the more I can’t look away. I can’t believe she wore that red dress. I can’t believe she owns that red dress. The fact that she’s worn that dress out in public before is driving me actually insane. If she were truly mine, she wouldn’t have made it out the door without me ripping that thing to shreds. I can barely stand to watch her across the room in it. Swaying her hips back and forth. Not a damn care in the world. Not as if she’s driving me—and every other man in this room—absolutely crazy.
The more we are like this, the harder this will be for me to end it. I knew this would happen when we started but I didn’t think it would be as hard as it is. She’s still as beautiful as she was last year. As beautiful as she was growing up. I can’t believe I thought I would be able to do this without torturing myself.
Just as I’m about to shove off the wall and get another drink, I feel a cool hand wrap around my wrist, pulling me back.
“You’ve been looking at me.”
I’m expecting to see Danika standing in front of me because, yes, I have been looking at her, but no, instead I’m met with a short blonde I’ve never seen before.
“That so?” I know it’s not because I’ve only been looking at the fiery redhead in the red dress.
“Mhm,” she nods. It’s not lost on me that her hand has crept up my arm. It’s not lost on her either as she settles her grip on bicep. “You wanna go somewhere and…talk?”
She says it in that way that means she wants to do absolutely anythingexcepttalk. I want to be polite. I am a gentleman. But I also want to shove her off of me. Without making a scene, I grab her hand and pull it off.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
Her blonde hair flips over her shoulder, as if that’ll do anything for me. “Are you sure? I saw you watching me on the dance floor.”
Without thinking about it, I grab her shoulders and turn her around so she’s looking at the dance floor from my perspective. Leaning down, I put my face in line with hers and with Danika directly in the center.
“I was looking at her. Not you.” The blonde’s shoulders stiffen before she pulls out of the grasp, huffing away without another word. Danika takes that opportunity to look up at me and I stand up to my full height, giving her a rare smile. Her grin matches mine and she walks over.
“You having fun?”
“Sure, brat.” She narrows her eyes at me, but I can tell she’s happy with my teasing nickname. “Need another drink?” She nods and follows me into the kitchen.
“Danika, hey,” Nico says from behind us, just as I grab another two beers from the cooler. The instinct to grip the bottles and slam them over his head is strong but I resist it. Not only because that would be crazy but because Danika would actually flip out. But man…do I want to wipe the smirk off this asshole’s face.
Danika nods at him but doesn’t say anything. She’s also not steaming the fire out of her ears like she usually is when he’s around. I know they’ve been spending a lot of time in class and study group together, but I’m seriously hoping this asshole isn’t getting back under her skin.
It’s only fair that I help her out. I mean, part of this deal is that we get this guy off her back. So, if that’s in reminding her why she’s with me and not with him in the first place, I’ll happily give her a reminder.
Nico opens his mouth to say some smart ass comment to me but I don’t give him the chance. Reaching out to Danika, I grab her around the waist and pull her face to mine. My mouth captures hers and her lips open instantly. I’m almost a little shocked by how willing she is to let my lips capture hers but I don’t take the openness for granted.
Danika melts against me, completely falling apart in my hands. My grip on her waist is bruising, as if she’ll float away if I let go. My tongue finds her and I wish this was our very first kiss. It’s not, she knows all about ourveryfirst kiss, but this one should replace all the feelings of that one.
A moan escapes Danika and I take it as a sign to release her, otherwise we’d be making an even larger scene in the middle of this frat house kitchen. She falters slightly as I release her, her eyes glassy and hooded.
“I think he’s gone,” I say, glancing to my right where her ex was just second before.
“Who?” Danika says, dazed. “Oh, right. Yeah. Good. That was…” She trails off, and I notice the slightly pink color of her cheeks.
Popping off the top, I hand her the beer we came in here for. “Thanks,” she says, still apparently trying to gather herself. We leave to go back into the living room and I see the scowl of the blonde who tried to hit on me earlier. I give her a smirk before leaving the room.
“Do you want to dance?” Danika asks, her hips already swaying to whatever nineties pop song is playing.
“I don’t dance.” What should have been a definitive statement was clearly taken as a challenge to Danika because when she hears “don’t,” she takes it as “love to.” With a wink, she pulls me further into the room and with an eye roll, I let her.
“I’ll just teach you then,” she says, a bit of naughtiness to her tone. Even though we both have a drink in our hands, Danika takes the hand that is empty and moves it to her waist, similar to how she grabbed me outside on the porch in front of her friend. With her back to my front and my arm wrapped around her waist, Danika sways back and forth to the rhythm of the song.
Now, I never said that I couldn’t dance, just that I didn’t. I happen to have a sense of rhythm I just don’t typically like to share with the world. But with Danika moving against me this way, it’s taking everything in me not to grip her the way I did in the kitchen and give her round two of that incredible kiss.
I move my hips along with hers for a few minutes and Danika nods her approval of my movements. “See, you’re not so bad.” We’ve about finished our drinks as the song ends and I’m happy to take the empty bottles and place them on the table, exiting the dance floor.