Page 17 of The Attack Zone
STACEY
We walk into the bar Mitch picked out and I’m not too big to admit I’m a bit surprised. It’s not gross or too loud. There’s a lounge in the front with plenty of seating and I can hear a bass thumping somewhere far away, but the front room is relatively calm. Caleb walks over to the bar and orders for him and Cassie before plopping down into a big chair with her next to him. King joins them with a beer.
I get a vodka cranberry from the bar and settle in on a chair across from Thomas and Hazel. Hazels is already one drink in when I start to feel the pull of the pulsing music. I’m not usually a partier, but I have my moments, and tonight I’m in the mood to see where that music is coming from.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I say. “Watch my bag, Cassie.”
Cassie nods and I grab my phone from my purse so I have it just in case and make my way across the bar. As I walk down the narrow hall, the music grows louder and louderuntil I can feel the pulsing across my chest. I enter the room to see bright, strobing lights, a packed dance floor, and a DJ. My eyes scan the crowd and quickly fall on Mitch. He’s near the center of the floor, dancing up a storm. He’s both dancing with no one and everyone at the same time. He looks delicious in those jeans that have to stretch over his hockey player thighs as he moves his hips to the beat of the music. Most men don’t know how to dance. Mitch, on the other hand, looks like he belongs in a goddamn Magic Mike movie right now and it’s doing something to me, which I shouldn’t find surprising at this point but still kind of do. I’ve mostly been able to ignore it because of how poorly we get along (aside from those few moments of weakness alone), but right now I’d like to feel his hips thrusting against mine on that dance floor.
So I guess that’s why I find myself standing across from him at the center of the dance floor, staring at his sexy face as he moves to the beat.
“Well, hello there, love,” he says, pausing mid-movement when he sees me.
“Hey,” I say. “Mind if I join you?”
His eyes go wide for a brief moment before a smirk I’ve seen in my head one too many times spreads across his face.
“Of course I don’t mind,” he says. “But don’t try to one-up my moves. You’ll lose.”
“Challenge accepted,” I say, just as the song changes to a remix of my favorite Taylor Swift song. “Oh, hell yes!” I holler before I start to move my body to the beat.
I let myself get completely lost in the music and the rest of the world disappears. Well, except for Mitch. He’s inches away from me as the music surrounds us. I turn my body away from him. I tell myself it’s an attempt to enjoy the music by myself, but then why am I inching myself backwards until our hips are almost touching?
“What are you doing, love?” he whispers in my ear. Itsends tingles down my spine, making me shiver and ache to be closer to him.
“What did you mean when you said you’re glad I’m here?” I turn my head just enough to ask.
He lets out a sigh. His hand is mere centimeters from my own, and I can’t believe this, but I think I want him to take mine?
“I meant that I don’t hate you,” he says. “Not the way you hate me.”
What?
Mitch ... doesn’t hate me?
This is some wild news, and I am not in the place to process it. For the few seconds after he says it, the song becomes silent. All I feel is Mitch’s chest brushing against my back as he breathes in and out. His hand brushes up my arm and gives my shoulder a squeeze. Then, as if the music knows exactly what I want, the bass drops and the entire room starts moving again. Including Mitch, whose hips are now moving—no, grinding—against mine. I let myself get completely lost in the music; lost in Mitch as our movements join together.
The song comes to an end, but we don’t separate. Instead, we wait for the next song, and the next, becoming closer and closer, our movements becoming more and more sexual with each new beat that fills the room. We dance for what could be minutes or hours, I honestly don’t even know, because I’m reeling and have no sense of time passing.
A slightly slower remix comes on and Mitch turns me around in his arms. I’m not short, and I’m in heels, but I’m still staring up at him as he places his hands on my shoulders.
“I wasn’t expecting you to say that,” I say.
“Me either,” he says in a serious tone. “But it’s true.”
He’s staring at my lips now, and I’ve clearly lost my mind because I think I actually want him to kiss me. His head starts to tilt down and ...
“You’re buzzing,” he says.
“I’ve only had one drink, I’m perfectly fine to make decisions about ...” I start.
“No,” he nods towards my hip. “Your phone is vibrating.”
Right. That.
I pull it out to see a bunch of messages in our group chat.
Cassie: Stacey, I have your purse.