Page 2 of Falling for Mindy
Attraction was a pleasant rush of color to your cheeks and maybe goosebumps. This wasn’t like that at all. If attraction was a gentle flush, a tug of attention, then whatever I felt when my eyes swept up to his face was more like a tornado ripping through a house and shattering the windows and throwing the books off the shelf.
I nearly staggered at the impact of his honey brown eyes, their darkness was flecked with gold and his dark hair was a little messy from dancing. We had collided, just a little. Most people wouldn’t have stopped. But he did and he was looking at me. What I noticed first was his gorgeous face. What I noticed next was the fact that he didn’t put his hand on my back in that creepy way that guys do when they walk behind you. He didn’t touch me except by accident when we bumped into each other.
I looked right up into his face. He had to be over six feet tall, towering over me, all broad shoulders and chest in a black V-neck. His square jaw and his honey eyes did something to me. His gaze was so intense, so jaw-droppingly gorgeous that I couldn’t even speak.
My pulse thundered in my ears, and my skin sizzled at the point of contact where he’d brushed against me. It was the afterburn, the tenderness that you’re aware of if you accidently touch a hot pan on the stove. It felt like he’d seared me with the barely-there brush against me in a crowd.
My attention was riveted on him. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t manage a commonplace, ‘oh excuse me’. I just kept staring at him, just drinking up the sight of him. The music seemed to fade away and the crowd receded, so all that existed in my field of vision or my reality was him.
He was everything in that moment, this tall, way too handsome man who towered over me, broad and strong and serious. My lips parted, and I wanted to say something.
Everything that ran through my mind, however, was something completely inappropriate to say out loud to a complete stranger. There I stood, watching him, too shy to reach for him but wanting to in a way I couldn’t begin to explain.
He dipped his chin, almost a nod. An acknowledgement that he’d bumped into me, a confirmation that I was all right. Maybe even some vague comprehension that I was looking at him with some crazy horny expression on my face. It flitted through my mind that he might be concerned about me because my face was doing a weird thing that made me look like I might bite him or something.
I really hoped I wasn’t making what Katie calls my scary face—when I want some dude/bro to leave me alone at a club and I give him the death eyes. I tried to make my mouth smile, but I knew I was making it worse—giving a creepy awkward smirk to go with predator eyes.
Suddenly, I giggled. I clapped my hand over my mouth. One corner of his mouth ticked upward like the beginning of an answering grin, and then he was gone.
He turned and kept walking, swallowed up by the crowd. I was standing still and gaping after him with a smirk on my face and no one to show it to. I blinked a few times and went back to find Katie.
“I just saw the hottest guy,” I told her.
“Why aren’t you dancing with him? Or making out? Or texting me his license number and telling me you’re leaving with him? Girl, this isn’t middle school. You don’t have to come tell me that you saw someone hot. You can just—you know—hang out with him instead. Maybe silence your phone and take sneaky pictures of him to send me. Tell me you took sneaky pics!”
“Uh, slow down, stalker. No, I did not take secret photos of a total stranger. And I’m not dancing or making out or anything because he just bumped into me, we had like a moment, and I think I may have made a weird face when I was staring at him, but he was so beautiful it was impossible not to. I lost control of my entire face and my ability to talk. It was super embarrassing.”
“It sounds that way. Show me the face you made.”
“I can’t replicate it,” I said, “you’re not the sudden appearance of the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life. My body sizzled—actually felt sizzly where he had brushed against me.”
“It’s called chemistry, genius,” she joked, “and I think you should have gotten his number or his name or asked to check what size boxers he wears. Always guess XL if you want a peek.”
“Is that a thing you do?” I said, scrunching my face in obvious disgust.
“I hope you didn’t make that face,” she snorted and then laughed.
“I can guarantee it was the opposite of that face,” I assured her.
“Okay, I’m gonna make a confession. I shouldn't have called you a nun. I have seen how many D-batteries you go through. Nuns don’t have those kinda toys.”
“You need to mind your own business. And if a couple of D-batteries can get the job done in ten minutes that’s called efficiency, young lady,” I teased her.
“I bet you’ll fire up those batteries thinking about Mr. Sizzle when you get home.”
“Can we talk about something else? That doesn’t involve my battery use?”
“Sure. But only if you tell me what brand to get first. Mine uses double-A batteries and it’s just not powerful enough. I like some pounding.”
“Katie!” I said, covering my face with my hands, “Stop!” I laughed helplessly.
Still, she wasn’t wrong about Mr. Sizzle and the batteries, not that I’d admit it to her.
CHAPTER 2
KYLE
The club was not my usual scene. I’d rather hang out in a dive bar with good music or go to a restaurant and get a steak. But it was short notice, and with the semester firing up soon, we’d all be too busy to get together much. Which was why I didn’t complain about the noise, the green flashing lights, or the fact that half the crowd looked like they turned twenty-one last week.