Page 8 of Unlikely
“It’s nice to meet you, Zara.”
She tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s really nice to meet you too.”
The air thickens around us, and I feel my pulse stuttering over itself in excitement. I’m completely out of my element, and feeling a little drunk off it. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, my body nothing more than skin, bones, and mixed signals.
“Are you okay?” Zara asks me. “Let me get you some water.”
I open my mouth to tell her I’m fine, but instead I hear myself say, “Do you want to dance?”
If this surprises her, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she takes a step back, putting distance between us, and for the first time, I manage to get a good look at her. From head to toe there isn’t an inch of her that isn’t put together.
Tall in heels, she’s wearing black high-waisted pants, paired with a black bodysuit. She has a silver necklace, with a lock and key pendant, perched perfectly between her cleavage. Every item of clothing is seamlessly styled together, accentuating every curve of her hourglass figure. With her long tresses falling to the small of her back, she holds herself with a confidence I could only dream of.
She’s all sex and class; her beauty a little intimidating. But even in my white crop top, shorts, and fishnet stockings, her eyes sweep over me as if I’m the beautiful one, as if I’m someone worth staring at.
She extends her hand out to me. “Are we going to dance or what?”
Slipping my fingers through hers, we walk back down to the main area of the club. The dance floor is full and the noise is loud enough that maybe I won’t overthink my every move.
I keep my hand in Zara’s as I lead us farther onto the dance floor; the music is familiar and the beat perfect to dance to. When I release my hold on her, her hands find my waist as she moves in behind me.
“Is this okay?” she says into my ear.
Her insistence of making sure I’m okay, makes her all the more attractive. They’re simple questions. Questions that are second nature to most of us, and yet, many people ask and don’t ever really mean it.
Raising my arms above my head, I nod, welcoming her touch. We start moving together in sync, my back against her front, our hips swaying from side to side.
One song rolls into another and then another, and by the third one, my body is aching to have more of her hands on me. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the close proximity, but her touch is both subtle and intimate, and it’s maddening.
My stomach fills with butterflies every time she skims her fingertips across the piercing in my belly button, and when she rests her palm against my midriff, bringing me closer to her, I want to melt into her.
When the music changes to a more seductive beat, I give in to temptation and turn to face her. I wrap my arms around her neck while she casually slips her hands into my back pockets. Unlike before, she cups my backside and slips one of her legs between mine, her thigh pressing deliciously against the apex of my thighs.
I stare into her smokey eyes, taking in her flushed cheeks, as the air around us continues to crackle. I search for an explanation as to why I’m in this woman’s arms and why I hate the idea of her letting me go.
Is this what life is like when I remove one mask and wear another?
Desire simmers in my veins, an unfamiliar feeling, one that I haven’t been acquainted with in such a long time—one that almost feels like it doesn’t belong.
It’s clear I’m attracted to Zara, that IwantZara, I just don’t know how to make that leap from point A to point B. I live in a world where sexuality is fluid and who you’re attracted to doesn’t define you, but that doesn’t mean I saw this moment coming.
Objectively speaking, I have been able to appreciate the beauty of a woman my entire life, but until now, the needle has never moved beyond that, and I’m nowhere near confident enough to know what comes next.
My heart beats hard against my rib cage as we dance, her chest pressed against mine, our bodies practically melding into one another. Sweat trickles down my back as every one of my nerve endings goes on high alert. I need to get out of my own head before I ruin the night by trying to perfect the moment.
“I’m going to grab us a drink,” I shout over the music. “I’ll be right back.”
Zara’s eyes dart between mine, a small little crease forming between her brows, almost like she can see right through me and the frenzy within.
Surprising me, she kisses me on the cheek, soft and yet full of purpose. “I’ll go,” she says into my ear. “You dance.”
My body continues to move as my eyes stay glued to her retreating form, she’s so careful and caring, and even though I don’t know her, I’ve seen enough from her to know she’ll wait for me to find my feet and make the first move.
Before I can even think twice about it, I chase after her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to me.
Zara’s expression shifts from startled to pleasantly surprised as I place one hand on the small of her back and slide the other into her hair. With a desperation I try to keep hidden, and feigned confidence, my mouth finds hers.
Her lips are soft and welcoming, and my anxiety settles at the ease and comfort I find in her kiss. Our mouths straddle the line between the perfect balance of right now and what’s next.