My head is spinning.
Just a few hours ago, I was insisting to Bailey and myself that I have no interest in Kelley outside of friendship. I would never, ever, see him in any way other than platonically.
But then he had to come waltzing into this bar with his stupidly adorable hair, and his damned lickable biceps, and that infuriatingly perfect little side smirk—also lickable, I’ve decided—and now I don’t know what side is up.
I’ve been blindsided by feelings I’ve repressed since Senior Prom, and I can’t seem to cram them back into the lockbox where they belong.
Who the heck let them out in the first place?
I blame the Henley. Why are Henleys so hot? A sleeper-seduction technique, for sure. Sex disguised as cozy cotton loungewear. The guy who designed them is probably a playboy genius.
It’s unfair, really.
I’m going to take all of Kelley’s Henleys and burn them.
No wait. I’ll donate them. Either way, they need to go.
As the song ends, I turn to Bailey. I need a shower and sleep and possibly some pros/cons lists and data charts to figure out just exactly what’s happening in my head tonight. Not necessarily in that order.
“I’m ready to head out when you are,” I shout over the crowd. She nods.
“Sounds good. I’ll go close my tab.”
“Coolie. I’m gonna go to the bathroom, then we’ll say goodbyes.”
“Hey, so, I might actually go to Bar 31 and meet up with Alex, that guy I told you about. You wanna come?” Bailey seems nervous but excited, which is out of character for her. Men don’t make her giddy, and she’s never intimidated.
“Are you asking because you want me there or just out of the goodness of your heart?”
She scrunches up her nose and gives me a sweet smile. “The latter?”
I pretend to be insulted and shake my head with a mock pout. “Then definitely not. My feet hurt. But make sure you share your location with me and send me a picture of him. Or a social media profile, or a license plate or something.”
“Of course! Go pee and then I’ll wait with you for your Uber.”
I make my way toward the back of the bar, dodging bodies and crossing my fingers that the line isn’t ridiculously long. When I reach the restrooms, I’m pleased to find that there are only eight girls ahead of me, so I’m able to get in and out in only fifteen minutes.
When I walk out of the bathroom, stepping out of the doorway to allow another girl access, I look up and find Kelley leaning on the opposite wall. There is a small smile playing on his lips, and his arms are crossed in front of his chest in way that makes his biceps bulge and displays his pornographic forearms directly in the center of my vision. I puff out an excited breath, then immediately frown at my reaction.
“Ivy.”
“Kelley.”
Without another word, he steps up to me and grasps my hand, then leads me down the darkened hallway and into a small room. When he flicks on a light, I see we’re in a storeroom of sorts. Boxes of cleaning supplies and toiletries are stacked on metal shelving units along the wall, a mop and bucket stand in the corner. Everything smells clean, like fresh linen and citrus.
“What’s going on?” I ask, arching a brow and trying to tame my intrigued smile. “Why are we back here?”
“We’re in a storeroom,” he states the obvious, and I get the feeling there’s a punchline I’m not quite grasping.
“I can tell.” I roll my eyes. “But why are we in a storeroom in the back of Keggers?”
“Zack, from my soccer team. He works here. He unlocked it for me.”
He takes a step closer to me and my skin burns in the best way.
“Ooookay...” I look up at him, confusion and exhilaration coursing through my veins.
I wait for him to tell me more, to fill me in on what I’m missing, but instead he takes another half-step toward me. Our toes are almost touching, and I watch his hazel eyes as he looks me over. He settles his gaze on my mouth. I lick my lips on instinct, and his prominent Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. I have an urge to kiss it.