argue the point that he’d still not asked her out. Getting out, he walked around to her side and opened the truck door for her.
The night was cold and just this side of nippy. The dark sky gleamed from the soft glow of fluffy white clouds. Music thumped and blared, and even out in the parking lot she could feel the steady thump of heavy bass booming through her.
And just like she’d said, the Wrights were already walking off. But unlike Christian and Roman who were laughing and chatting it up with a group of guys from their soccer team, Julian had his head lowered and his hands shoved into his pockets as he disappeared into the crush of kids.
She nibbled her lip. What kind of fun could he possibly have here all by himself?
“You ready?” Joey asked, holding his arm out for her.
Knowing she had no choice but to stay put and be the date he expected her to be, she plastered on a fake smile and nodded. “Yup. Ready.”
The dance was…well, just another school dance. The punch was awful. The music too loud, and the theme—Arabian Nights—pretty damned lame.
Two hours in Elisa was ready to go. But when she looked over to where she’d seen Christian and Roman last, the boys were dancing on the dance floor and looking like they had no intention of leaving anytime soon.
“Yeah, man,” Joey snickered, “she had a rack out to here.” He mimed an obscenely large set of breasts.
Mike, the Mariners’ varsity team nose tackle, chortled. Heavyset, as most nose tackles tended to be, with a ruddy complexion, and small beady blue eyes, Mike Albert wasn’t exactly what a girl would call a stud. “Dude, I’d have hit that thing,” he snorted then sipped on his sixth glass of punch.
Elisa bit down on her tongue to keep from saying what she really wanted to say. That no girl that looked like what Joey had described would have ever let Mike “hit it,” not unless he was making NFL kind of money.
“Yeah, but it took some serious beer goggles, dude. Nah.” Joey swatted his hand. “I wasn’t gonna touch that snatch with a ten-foot pole—too many snakes swimming in that pond, if you know what I mean.”
They laughed as Mike banged his fist on the table.
She cleared her throat, giving them both a withering glare.
“Ah, come on, babe.” Joey tossed an arm across her shoulder. “You know you’re the only girl for me.”
Mike snickered and nudged his date, a quiet, mousy-looking girl from eleventh grade. “Let’s go dance,” he told her and she nodded silently, just like she’d been doing all night.
Elisa was bored out of her mind. Brushing Joey’s arm off her, she twisted in her seat and scanned the crowds.
She’d yet to find Julian again after he’d disappeared.
“You ready?” Joey asked a minute later, leaning into her ear to whisper it.
His lips feathered along the shell of her ear far longer than she liked. Breaking her out in a wash of goosebumps, but not the good kind.
All night he’d been grabby. His hands all over her ass and even once grazing the swell of her left breast, it had always felt like accidental contact, but then again, it was homecoming and high school guys pretty much only ever had sex on the brain. And the way he’d been talking about that rival team’s cheerleader for the past ten minutes, she seriously doubted her date didn’t realize what he was doing.
Beyond irritated, she vaguely wondered how rude it would be if she just begged off from that after dance party and get her own ride home. Chas said she’d probably be there, though, and Elisa did actually want to see her. Could she stomach the torture of being Joey’s “date” for another couple of hours though? That was the real question.
Wetting her lips, she ignored his question and continued to the scan the crowds, looking for the one face she’d not seen since the moment they’d arrived.
Where the hell was Julian?
Had he gone home already? But if so, how? He couldn’t call…
The second she thought it,
Jamie Klaire, J. M. Klaire