Across From You

by Amabel Daniels

  Whoops. It was really getting annoying to remember we were at a wedding. It should have shocked me how much I wanted to focus on Lexi, since I was normally edging away from a woman’s advances by this length of time. Maybe because I wanted her so bad, and I was confused by her not advancing on me that I had no choice but to take it in stride. Or whisk her away after the reception was underway.

  Dinner, check. Dances were coming up, but that didn’t sound like a bad idea at all—holding Lexi in my arms and not giving her any chance of getting sleepy. Maybe we could sneak off while they cut the cake, and then? The rest of the night to help her reconsider a single status, rebound be damned.

  Thirteen

  Lexi

  As far as receptions went, this one wasn’t bad at all. Dare I say it, it was even enjoyable. The food was delicious, if delayed. Maybe good things really did come to those who wait. The music was tolerable now that Jack had evil-eyed the DJ from making fun of me. Then again, I liked that song. One of my best karaoke hits. And sitting across from Jack, I could nearly tune out everything else in the room and pretend it was just the two of us. Uh oh. Will Smith again. I allowed myself a couple head bobs. But really, subtract the mile-long table of the bridal party surrounding us with too loud laughter, the newlyweds at the head, Bev scanning the room like a queen before her subjects, and the bridesmaid dress that was getting kind of itchy by my strapless bra, and it was like a date. Sharing a good meal and talking. It gave the getting-to-know-each-other-on-a-first-date type of feels.

  The more I got to know Jack, which was really just adding to the things I’d already learned about him from Bev, the more I teetered toward oh my gosh, he seems nice maybe I should compute dating algorithms in my head and see if he might like me too, and further from listening to my inner deception alert broadcasting testing one two three, this is a scheduled screening alert for a player in the midst, testing, one two three, do not remove clothing…

  Just like they might be correct in the sage saying that good things come to those who wait, the sons of guns who proclaimed all good things come to an end were just as accurate. In the middle of lamenting with Jack how Peter Jackson screwed up Tolkien’s worlds by omitting parts of the books from the movies—yes, yes, I know the movies would have been twelve hours long apiece. What’s your point?—the DJ interrupted the music to announce the maid of honor’s desire to have a toast.

  Darcy took the mic and stepped away from our main table, just the right amount of space so everyone could see her from head to toe. I hoped she’d be fast about it, because I wouldn’t lie, I was getting giddy to be called to the floor to dance with Jack. Any minute, now, I told myself. Just a few more minutes of Darcy rambling about her and Bev’s sorority days and I’d be in Jack’s arms, feeling those muscles around me, snugging me tight to his broad wall of abs. I’d gotten a teaser of that sinful body against mine already and I volunteered for more. Last night, when he’d helped me off the piano, when he whisked me into his arms and twirled me when we entered. Hey, I knew hooking up wasn’t supposed to be on my radar, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t take advantage of the forced closeness of a dance to live a little.

  I snuck a glance at him as he listened to Darcy’s toast and snapped out of zoning off at my lust for him. He watched Darcy, all right, with a grimace. When he met my gaze, he raised his brows as though to say WTF.

  Huh? I focused on something other than Jack for a change—hardship, people, I tell ya, a hardship—and surveyed the room. Guests and family members tossed similar WTF expressions to their tablemates. Bev smiled at her friend, but it was the strained my-lips-are-set-so-tight-like-this-so-I-can’t-scream-at-you kind of fakeness that surprised me. As I listened to Darcy, I realized this wasn’t a trip down memory lane to times long ago when she and Bev had dreams of weddings and how it was a joy to witness Bev’s wishes coming true with Paul.

  Nope.

  We were all on minute twenty of the woman explaining how she’d left college, found a talent agent, and was recently picked up by a dated cable channel for a reality show. She tittered and yammered on about the rating stats of the network, how much she was expected to make…

  Just, what the everlasting hell was she going on about? And how much was she drinking? Once more, I looked at the new Mr. and Mrs. at the head of the table. Bev stared at Darcy, probably willing her to shut up. Paul winced. Maybe it was constipation. Or pain from the knuckle that still prevented his brand new wedding band to fit at the root of his finger. But he patted Bev’s hand as though in consolation. Sweetheart he was, wanting Bev to stay happily self-centered on her wedding day and regretting Darcy fucking up what was probably supposed to be a loving toast.

  The DJ was either oblivious to Bev’s annoyance and Paul’s motions to cut the mic, gesturing his finger slicing at his neck, or he was enamored with Darcy’s incoherent gibberish.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I muttered as I stood. Darcy beamed at me as I approached her but scowled when I snatched the mic from her hand. “Thanks, for…that, Darce.” I patted her shoulder, hard, shoving her into her seat without looking like I was shooing her away.

  Then, everyone was looking…right…at…me.

  I’d thought enough to silence that godawful autobiographical speech. Now that I had the mic in my hands, though?

  “Uh…”

  Speak. Propose a toast about Bev and Paul. Toast about Bev? Anything. Lex?

  A swallow ripped at my throat as I tried to hold off my stage fright. Biology dissection labs weren’t the only things that freaked me the hell out. There was a solid reason I never did tap dancing as a toddler. Or ballet and other recital-ish kind of crap as a kid. Hard to perform when you’re frozen.

  I could handle weekly pep talks at the store. Four or five employees—damn it, sorry, Cuddle Masters—standing in front of me didn’t intimidate me. And I started out our staff meetings with a poll of which stuffed animals were most likely to creep out people like plush Chuckies. Nothing at all to be intimidated by.

  “Uh…” Sweat had to be raining down my neck and back for as flipping hot as it was in here all of a sudden. Jack must have sensed my lightheadedness because he scooted back his chair as though planning on running around the table and catching me if I fainted. Concern creased his forehead now, replacing the surprise that registered there when I’d unexpectedly stole Darcy’s spotlight.

  You know what? Nah. Darcy can go right on back to talking. Public speaking would never be my forte. I glanced at Bev and the look of relief and curiosity on her face egged me on.

  A toast. The bride deserved a damn toast. Praise her dress. Hail to the wedding. Something!

  The mic slid down in my fist. No wonder with the sweat from wiping my brow and then switching hands. Damn, was I trembling, or what? I brought my other hand to hold the torture device steady, bringing my watch to flash the time and my heart rate. Jesus. The last time I’d gotten my pulse this high was at the one and only Zumba class Carly had cajoled me into doing.

  “Well, we’re uh, gathered here today…”

  Fuck. The priest already said that earlier.

  “…to watch Bev and Paul get hitched.”

  Keen observation, Sherlock.

  “And while, uh…” I blinked hard and met Jack’s gaze. His lips smiled but his eyes spoke of a lesser degree of WTF. “Uh, while we will talk about this being the best and most beautiful wedding of all times…”

  Yes, pander to the center of the universe. Lovely wedding, cuz.

  “I’d like to tell you about…how they got here today.”

  I am? They got in their fucking cars and drove. How else would they get here? Smear pixie dust in their armpits and fly like fairies?

  “How Bev and Paul met is a funny story.” I rubbed at the back of my neck. Oh, good Lord. I really was sweating buckets. Haven’t they heard of air conditioning? “Um…” I looked again at Jack in front of me, inspired on the spot. “It’s not like she saw him posing nude in an art class or something.”
>
  Paul chuckled at the end of the table and Jack widened his eyes while setting his lips in a mock-glare. Light laughter faded in the room at my joke.

  Joke? Holy shit. I made a joke. But this was still way harder than karaoke-ing.

  “They met when Bev pulled Paul over for speeding. I think she threatened to arrest him for refusing to cooperate, but hey.” I looked at Paul. “Persistence pays, right? Anyway…”

  And this is where my hardly gained momentum now dies an agonizing death.

  “He ended up giving her his number and they became friends…”

  Friends with occasional benefits, primarily, if anyone really wants to know.

  “…and that friendship evolved into something more.”

  Like fuck buddies when the itch called.

  “But still, that something more wasn’t all that was in the cards for these two.”

  No shit. We’re at their wedding. How the hell did speechwriters do this? Regardless, I wanted to kiss the women in the hall who aaawed at that line. Thank you, I’m trying. Thank you very much.

  “They deepened their friendship into a love that nothing could break.”

  Oh, come on, Lexi. You wrote the wedding vows that even Mom teared up at. Or maybe she was just crying from laughing at the card said vows were written on… I’d called upon my helpless romantic foundation and wrote those vows while watching the love scene between Arwen and Aragorn. Damn what a slow-burn kiss that was. And Viggo Mort— Not now! Focus.

  “Still, their love…had room to expand.”

  Wait. Is that going to sound like a double entendre like I’m hinting at Paul getting hard for Bev?

  “Because…Paul…arrested Bev’s heart.”

  No. What? No. That means he’s giving her a heart attack.

  “He…he stopped her breath at a gorgeous beach at sunset when he proposed to her while on vacation in the…”

  Shit! Was it the Cayman Islands or St. John? I darted a glance at Paul who mouthed Vir-g—

  “Virgin Islands!” I smiled like I’d won a marathon.

  God, I wasn’t even close.

  “He proposed on that pretty stretch of sand on the Virgin Islands”—I made sure to enunciate the location—“and made Bev the happiest woman on Earth.”

  Well, not as happy as she is today, I think. Right? She smiled at me, still a little strained, but happy nonetheless. She was aware of my stage fright and she was probably just glad I hadn’t puked yet. At least I was talking about her and Paul and not myself.

  “And today…”

  Fuck. Way to put yourself in the corner, Lex. I couldn’t up a superlative and say the ‘most happiest.’ I might be freaked out up here, but I still knew grammar.

  “Uh…and today, it makes me overjoyed…”

  I sure as hell will be overjoyed to sit my butt down and shut up.

  “…to witness the new couple…”

  Jack smiled tighter and raised his glass, like a prop. Yes. Hold up the glass and it’s done.

  “…to witness the new couple start a wonderful life full of good fortune and hot makeup sex. To Bev and Paul.” I reached forward for my glass, shot it upward, and wasted not a breath to chug that champagne.

  Applause? Was that clapping I heard? I wasn’t getting booed off like I did when I graced a bar with my stupendous singing? I sat down so fast my dress whooshed out and I couldn’t even care if I’d flashed anyone with my panties. Well, except Jack. I’d chosen the silky, skimpy pair this morning on the off chance he might see them. I slid the button of the mic off before I let it drop to the table. Music played as the DJ thanked me from his mic.

  “Good save, Lexi,” Jack whispered to me as he leaned over the table.

  I nodded, dabbing my napkin at my neck.

  “Not a fan of talking in front of crowds?” he asked as he rubbed my knee under the table.

  I shook my head. He removed his hand from my skin, misinterpreting that I was answering his question. I made an unnh sound of deprivation and he chuckled while putting his hand on my leg again. He probably intended to show me comfort and to relax me by massaging my knee. But I misinterpreted—whoopsie—and scooted my chair in closer so he could, oh, maybe touch more of me.

  I don’t know if it was due to the crash of adrenaline from being terrified with that mic in my hand, but at this moment, I was putty in his hands. Panic attack to full-on lust? Worked for me. Because, why should I not want this guy? Yeah. That angel was awfully damn quiet on my shoulder. Or maybe the devil had hopped over and stuck a gag in her mouth. Either way, Jack eased me from needing to pant into a paper bag as he softly smiled at me and massaged my knee. Little did he realize that sweet gesture settled the debate in my mind of wanting him. Scratch that. I’d wanted him from the moment I’d eyed his naked perfection. But I’d held back on that lust. Now that I could see and appreciate him as a gentleman and intelligent person underneath all that tempting muscles and flesh? I wanted him something fierce.

  “That was sweet of you,” he said. “To save the toast.”

  I rolled my eyes and tossed my napkin to the table. “What toast?”

  “Still. Nice of you to do that.”

  I saluted him with my glass since I’d just filled my mouth with a gulp of water. May as well hit an even ratio of alcohol to water. Because if I was going to jump on board with the idea of, well, jumping on Jack, I wanted to do so on a clear head. No way was I letting myself get too drunk to get horny or too drunk that I fell asleep on him again.

  “You know what else would be nice to do?” I asked.

  Mama mia. That smoldering stare. That must have been that eye-fuckery Bev picked up on. He cocked his head to the side as he slid his hand higher up the inside of my thigh.

  I gasped before saying, “Ditch this reception.”

  “Really? Can’t wait to get away from me?” he cooed.

  I scooched my ass to the very tip of my chair to invite him to spread that hand up all the way to my panties. “Try the opposite.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but the DJ cut in overhead. “And now, Bev and Paul would like to welcome the rest of the bridal party to join them on the dancefloor.”

  Fourteen

  Jack

  My mom used to tell me, dance like there’s no one watching. If that were the case, and damn, did I wish it was, I’d be grinding against Lexi and groaning at the friction of her sweet curves on my body to “It’s Getting Hot in Here” instead of slowly circling to “The Way You Look Tonight.” Also a lovely song. And I generally disliked out-of-date hip-hop. With my heart racing at Lexi’s faint sweet fragrance teasing my senses and her ample breasts smashed against my chest—yeah, I was a little more amped up for something than a crooning Eric Clapton.

  Which made no sense because despite the fact I could feel Lexi’s heart hammering against mine, she seemed…frozen. Too still and not at all at ease. Did her stage fright extend to dancing? I couldn’t see how if she loved karaoke so much.

  “Lexi?”

  “Huh?”

  “You okay?” I asked. Maybe it was too much too soon, feeling her up under the table. I’d been inches from her panties before we were called to the dancefloor. I hadn’t even realized Bev and Paul were sharing their first dance, so enthralled I was at bringing color back to Lexi’s cheeks from her near fainting spell.

  “Define okay.”

  I frowned over her shoulder and ducked down so I could whisper in her ear. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…”

  I tightened my arms around her at her shaky attempt of a sentence. Jesus. She really hated being in front of crowds. If she was always like this or if it was a residual effect from that goddamn breakup post, I couldn’t tell, but I pulled her in closer to me.

  “Dammit, Jack.”

  I tilted my head to the side and started to separate from her but she clung on.

  “You have any idea how much I want to dance with you…faster? And horizontal? Maybe…without this dress on?”

&nb
sp; Her candid words shot the blood straight to my dick and I growled.

  “You have to tell me that now?” Regardless, I surveyed the room, planning how we could weave around the other dancing pairs and escape to make her visions come true.

  “Bad timing. That’s me.”

  Maybe she had a point. I could have used her in my life to brighten my days and warm my bed many years ago.

  “What changed?” I asked and rubbed my hand down her back to rest just above that perfect ass. The hitch in her breath pulled a smile at my lips.

  “What do you mean?”

  “To make you decide to want me.” She eyed me like a decadent dessert at the art studio. And she’d all but admitted she lusted after me in the elevator last night. Today she seemed eager to be with me, but her statement to Bev still twisted me confused. “You told Bev you’d like to be single. You…dodged me when I said I kissed you because I wanted to.”

  Her shoulders lifted and she frowned. “I’m crappy at listening to my instincts. I don’t need to rush into anything with anyone right now.”

  A valid point I could understand. I’d cringe if she said the word rebound. But if I were ready to submit to my attraction to her—after years of avoiding women to get close—I sure as hell hoped she’d throw caution to the wind and follow me into some sexy sin. She hadn’t shoved me away yet.

  “But you put up a hell of a fight, O’Connor.”

  “I won’t ask anything of you that you can’t give me.”

  “Oh, it’s not a matter of what I can give you. It’s a matter of what I let you have.”

  I mock-roared.

  She smiled shyly. “The last thing I need is to be hurt by another player. Keep in mind, it doesn’t matter what you say, or what assumption Bev ever planted in my head, all guys are enemy of the state after being dumped.”

  Fair enough. What else had I done after my ex cheated on me all those years ago? Kept the “enemy” of all women at a distance.

  “But you turned down the bridesmaid at rehearsal without blinking an eye. I saw the photographer’s assistant hitting on you and feeling up your arms, and you walked away.” She snuggled her face into my neck and sniffed. “That kiss almost melted my panties off. You swooped me out of humiliation when we walked in here and you…comforted me after my so-called toast.”