Chapter Twenty Three.

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Elijah Astor

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I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes off Dakota.

The bar was extremely crowded, and she was constantly moving, serving another drink. I was leaning against a wall, all the way on the other side of the club. Stacey is beside me, and she looks good as usual. Her outfit is skin tight, and I’m hanging out with Stacey Dugan for God sakes, but still, my eyes move back to Dakota.

Dakota, to put it simple, looks sensuous. Her hair was ruffled; creating a messy, but sexy look and all spiraled down around her heart shaped face. She wore light make up, minus the alluring color of her lips. Her skirt was poufy, and pink with white lace on the bottom, but the skirt ended right above her knees. She’s wearing a dark black half shirt, tied into a bow right under her breasts, leaving her midriff bare but only up to her navel, for the thick, black waistband of her skirt hides her belly button. Her outfit is paired off with black open toed stilettoes. To say the least, it’s a very new, very seductive fifties look.

“Hey.” Stacey said, or rather slurred, for she had a couple of drinks and seemed to be quite tipsy. She nudged me with her hip then stumbled on her heels. I quickly caught her, sliding an arm around her waist to steady her.

“Are you alright?” I asked her, peering down at her. I dip my head closer in order to hear her over the Elvis song playing.

She laughed. Then slowly she licked her red lips, cocking her head to the side, all her sensual red hair cascading down her shoulder. “I’m fine.” She nodded. Her amber eyes were glazed over.

“Stacey, you’re drunk.”

“Nope!” She shouted. She frowned, her red lips pouting teasingly. How many times have I fascinated about kissing those exact lips? My arm was still around her waist, and she turned, positioning her body against mine.

“What are you doing?” My arm loosened on her waist, but didn’t leave.

“Dancing.” She murmured. And before I could say anything more, she slightly tilted her head back, her hair once again falling in those sensual waves, brushing against my arm. She slowly begins to move her hips.

This is the second time I’ve danced with Stacey Dugan and both times it had been this way. Her angular hips push against mine, her fingers curled around my biceps. It was sexy, you could say, but she was drunk. My hands went to her hips, stilling her.

Her head snapped up to look at me, and once again, she pouted. “What’s wrong?” She asked, shuffling closer, if possible. Her arms loop loosely around my neck. “Is it about Dakota?”

“She’s your best friend, no?” I ask instead. It wasn’t about Dakota, of course. Dakota and I were nothing more than friends. Or could we even be considered friends? Sure, we get along better now, but that can’t make us friends.

“She is. But, I don’t think I’m hers.” She hiccupped. “Any more.”

I brought my head back, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not the greatest friend. I’ve done things I’ve shouldn’t have.”

My chest seized. Was I finally going to know everything about Dakota? Was she no longer going to be some mystery? “What have you done Stacey?” I whisper softly.

Stacey leaned into me, her head nuzzling onto my shoulder. Her breath washed over the nape of my neck, and I shuddered slightly. “You’re so warm.” She sighed contently, her arms leaving my neck, before wounding around my waist. “I’m so tired.”

“Stacey, what have you done?” I shake her lightly, and she moans before moving her head right into my neck.

“I’ve slept with Dave.”

What? Instantly, my eyes moved over Stacey’s head, and back to Dakota. She wasn’t looking at me, but instead chatting with a couple of jocks I recognize from school. She laughed as Matt, a quarterback on the football team, came around and hugged her. Her arms went around his neck, and he lifted her up, her legs bending up behind her as he swung her around. I scowled slightly at the sight, turning my eyes down back to Stacey, whom was quiet and swaying slightly.

“Stacey?”

“Hmm?” Her finger trailed up my back.

“Aren’t those your friends?”

With her arms still around my waist, she craned her neck around. Her eyes brightened at the sight of the jocks. She turned around, threw her arms lazily in the air and shouted, quite loudly, “Sam! Matt!” Her grin widened as three boys slowly turned around, their eyes squinting because they couldn’t make out who was calling them.

Stacey tugged on my hand. “Come on.” Then, she was stumbling across the packed dance floor, her heels tinkling as she did so. “Travis!” She screamed, as she went to the blonde head boy on the end, hugging him quickly before moving on to the other two.

Dakota didn’t seem to notice, for she went back to serving drinks. An older man, maybe in his late twenties, was asking for something and Dakota frowned, held up one finger, wiped down her hands then began to move out from under the bar.

She was about to pass me, her arm brushing mine as she did so. But before she could get past, a fast beat song, something from the fifties (of course) began to play. The DJ my father hired for tonight shouted something I couldn’t understand but as I looked around, couples began to pile in on the dance floor. They were swing dancing.

Not sure what else to do, I grabbed Dakota around the middle, the warm skin of her stomach burning against my arm.

She shrieked. “What are you doing?”

“Dance with me.” I mumbled into her ear, before sliding my hands down her arms and slipping my hands into hers.

She shook her head slowly, biting on her lip to conceal the big smile on her face. She was actually really good, almost as if she’s done this often. I wanted to talk to her about Dave, and how I knew about Stacey and him, but I didn’t want to hurt her. Her whole face was bright and she was laughing as she followed along with all the couples, moving quick and precise, jumping back from me, our hands at arm’s length as she held onto the end of her skirt, moving her feet and hips slightly.

Then, at the same time as everyone else, my one arm moved around her waist, pulling her close. Her legs left the ground as I swung her one on side of me and over to the other, then flipped her around my back.

She laughed as she rolled around. My arm tightened around her, holding her in place as she flipped, and suddenly she was back in front of me, but very close. Every inch and every curve of her slid down the front of my body very slowly. Her breathing was hard from dancing, and her nose ran along mine as she pressed into me. She stayed like that, our foreheads together. No one else was paying attention, but instead continued to dance.

Dakota smelt like sweet rain. She was as close as anyone could get, and right now, it felt really good. We were both quiet, and she was still breathing slightly uneven. My eyes moved down over her face, and landed on her lips. Her lip gloss was shiny and pink. Her lips are big and plump, and slightly parted as she breathed.

My eyes couldn’t seem to peel away from those lips. I slide my hand down to the small of her back, feeling her sigh softly as I reel her even closer, until my one leg in snugged between both of hers.

“Elijah, what’s wrong?” She asked me, maybe sensing I wasn’t feeling myself. I’m feeling anxious, and fidgeting.

And I’ll tell you what’s wrong.

I have the urge to kiss Dakota Aniston.

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