All the Bold Moves (All The Right Moves 2)

Matthew doesn’t say anything, so I accept this as fact.

“Are you just going to sit there staring at me,” I finally blurt out.

He mirrors my body language by crossing his own arms, and I’m rewarded by the sight of his bulging tan biceps. Shamelessly, I allow my eyes to freely roam his upper body, from the near bursting top button of his straining polo shirt, to the veins in his strong arms.

Come on, don’t you think I deserve a little peek?

As I continue ogling his masculine upper body (and please, forgive my continuous use of verbs to objectify him) my eyes eventually roam back up to his face. Unfortunately for me, the bastard is smirking arrogantly and spreads his arms wide, gripping the corners of the square table and staring intently at my boobs, then back up at my face.

If I didn’t know better, I would think he was mocking me.

Or that he liked it… a bit too much.

Damn him!

“See something you like,” he asks with a low snicker.

Yes!

“Oh please,” I sputter. “Gag me.” I give my long silky hair a toss before leaning back behind my seat to retrieve my purse, and proceed to dig through it while I wait for him to respond. He continues to stare as I slowly slick NARS nude gloss across my puckered mouth, then lick my lips for good measure before putting the cap back on – you know, since he’s my captive audience and all. “So are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here or not? Best spit it out quickly, because our dates will be back soon... friend.”

“Would you knock that shit off,” he mutters.

“Knock what off?” I tilt my head curiously, causing my hair to cascade and spill over one shoulder, just like Molly and I practiced before I left the apartment.

“That friend bullshit.” He uses his forefingers to make air quotes when he says the word ‘friend.’

“Why? I thought that’s what we were.”

Matthew’s eyes drift to my bare shoulder and he studies my exposed collar bone. “Why is your skin so… sparkly?”

I flick my wrist nonchalantly. “Hmmm? Oh. Edible body glitter.” Pleased that he’s noticed, I slowly tail my index finger up and down my arm. “Jenna insisted on it.”

“What the hell does that mean? Edible body glitter.”

I roll my eyes at him (which Molly claims he hates). “What do you think it means? Use your imagination.”

“I’m seriously beginning to question your morals.”

I can’t stop the snicker that escapes from my sticky lips. “Don’t question mine, question Molly’s. She’s always slathering this stuff on. It’s Weston’s absolute favvooritee.” I drag the word out and wiggle my newly manicured eyebrows suggestively, then prop my chin up in the palm of my hand. “Actually, you don’t slather it on. You brush it on gently with a feather.” I sigh lazily. “It feels divine.”

“Why would you go and say shit like that? Are you purposely trying to get me hard?”

“Because it’s more fun than licking my own arm and watching you wet your pants a little.”

“Wait. How old are you again?” His eyes are slightly glassy and his pupils are dilated.

“Almost twenty-three.” I take a small sip of ice water, a few beads of perspiration from the glass drip and land on the table cloth. “So what are you going to do with the rest of your night now that you hauled that deranged Drag Queen all the way down here? You do know she’s never going to leave here without a free meal.”

He clearly doesn’t like me stating the obvious because he replies, “Would you shut up please?”

Shrugging, I smirk. “Hey. I’m just being honest.”

“Maybe she would take the hint if she walked out of the bathroom and we were sucking face across the table?”

I flip my hair again. “Gross. Like that would ever happen.”

Although, let’s face it: I’d totally be in to sucking face with him.

“Don’t look so offended. You might bruise my ego.” I give an unladylike snort while Matthew looks around. He cranes his neck and squints towards the front of the restaurant, the direction in which the restrooms are.

He leans back in his seat, pulling his iPhone out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Hey. Wait a minute. Don’t you think they’ve been gone a really long time?”

CHAPTER 14

MATTHEW

“It’s not you, it’s me. Actually no. It is you.”

– Kevin Westerman, teammate, breaking up with his girlfriend of two weeks.

I pull out my phone and check the time. About nineteen minutes has passed since Neve and Stacy left for the restrooms: plenty of time to relieve yourself and come back. Even if Neve had to take a dump, he still should have been back by now.

A knot forms in my stomach, and apprehension sets in.

That son of a bitch.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to conclude that he ditched me here with his date.