I turn away from him, pressing my cheek against Ethan’s biceps as I close my eyes and breathe deep his intoxicating scent. I didn’t like the way that guy looked at me. Like I was a piece of meat on display just for him. Maybe this dressing sexy for a man isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be . . .
“You all right?” I glance up to find Ethan watching me, his dark brows furrowed with concern, the beer bottle clasped in his hand. I don’t answer, just offer him a reassuring smile. He smiles in return, though I still see worry in his eyes. “Let’s go see if we can find a table.”
Without a word I let Ethan lead me into the back half of the club, where there’s a section of round tables and chairs, every one of them full. The open area in front of the stage is crowded with onlookers, most of them female, many of them scantily clad and yelling obscene things to the guys onstage.
“They have a strong female following,” Ethan says, his mouth twisted into a wry smile, just as a shrill female voice screams out, “I want you to fuck me, Marty!”
“I can see that,” I murmur, gasping out loud when a girl lifts her top and flashes her braless breasts at the stage.
Ethan slips his arm around my shoulders, his mouth at my ear. “You’re okay with this, right?”
I’m uncomfortable. I can’t deny it. But being at this concert, watching girls throw themselves at a bunch of sweaty guys who play instruments and sing decently, isn’t going to kill me.
Doing something different is good. Sheila would be proud of me. She’d call it part of my growth process or whatever.
The drummer counts, his drumsticks tapping out a beat before the band launches into a song that is heavy on the guitar, the lead singer’s moody voice filling the room. We’re standing on the edge of the open area, Ethan having removed his arm from around my shoulders as people stream by us, crowding all around us. He’s drinking his beer, his body moving slightly to the beat, and I can only stand there awkwardly, feeling unsure.
What do I do, what do I say, how do I move? I’ve never been much of a dancer, at least publicly. I’ve never been much of anything really. It’s as though my life came to a complete standstill at the age of almost thirteen and I didn’t allow myself to experience much of anything.
How sad is that?
I remember all the times I skipped around in the privacy of my bedroom, shaking my hips to the sound of Katy Perry songs. I’d never been to a school dance, but I’d watched enough music videos on YouTube to pick up some moves. I could do this if I could just let go. Drop all the worry and the misgivings and the self-consciousness and just . . . be.
Resolve slowly fills me and I stand up straight. If I want to dance, I should dance. And if I want to feel a man’s hands on me as I move to the beat, I shouldn’t feel ashamed. I’m a grown woman with—needs.
Yeah. Needs.
The song ends and the crowd roars their approval. The band doesn’t hesitate, just launches into another song, and I turn to face Ethan, excitement pulsing in my veins as I step closer to him, my hand on his shoulder. “Take me to the front of the stage,” I yell at him, hoping he can hear me above the din.
“What?” He frowns, looking confused, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
He’s so adorable. Bringing me here tonight is quickly making up for his earlier awful behavior.
“I want to get closer to the stage,” I yell again, emphasizing each word.
He glances toward the crowd lining the front of the stage. “It’s packed.”
I shrug. “So?”
“Hot. Sweaty.” He sniffs the air. “And someone’s passing around a joint.”
Drugs and alcohol, all while listening to a live band play. Tonight is like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life. “I don’t care. Not like I’m going to smoke it.”
He starts to laugh. “You sure you want to go out there?”
I nod, my hair sliding against my damp neck. The heat is already getting to me but I don’t care. I want to experience this. Want to immerse myself completely into this night and I want Ethan by my side while I do it.
He takes me by the crook of the elbow and leads me into the fray. “Then let’s do this.”
I’ve never seen Katie like this before. She’s open and warm, her lithe body swaying to the beat as I stand behind her, glaring at every motherfucker who gets too close. We’re standing as close to the stage as we can get, right in front of a speaker, so the music is extra loud. There’s no point in talking—we couldn’t hear each other anyway and besides, there’s no need for words.
Our bodies are talking loud enough.
I’m an ass for reaching out to her like I did, as if nothing ever happened between us a few days ago. But the need to see her, smell her, touch her was so strong I couldn’t resist. Going so many hours without talking to her was pure torture. Having her like this now, my hands resting on her hips, her scent wrapping around me and making me as high as those assholes passing around the joint a few feet to our left, I’m in heaven.