Love to Love Her YAC (15 page)

Rhiannon is laughing hysterically at
something Ruthie said while gripping the side of the table, and I’m
reminded of the first night I met her, the way her movements and
body language almost made her seem like a caricature of emotions
when she would react to her friends’ stories. I love watching her,
seeing her this cheerful and unburdened.

Patrick seems pretty cool. He actually
graduated from WSC last year with his BS in criminal justice, but
he stuck around an extra year to double major in forensic
pathology. He fancies himself the next real life Horatio Caine, and
he’s a fellow Forty Niners fan. I’m talking with him about our
chances of making it into the playoffs this season when our waiter
comes to clear our dishes.

As soon as the waiter leaves, a guy with very
blue eyes and very white teeth walks up holding a platter of
desserts. I’m assuming from the way Corinne is smiling like a
maniac this must be Vince.

“Hey baby,” he says. “I’m glad you could make
it. So what do you think of the place?”

“We
love
it!” Corinne gushes. “Don’t
we, guys?”

We all nod our heads in a chorus of
agreement, praising the food and the décor. Vince smiles proudly as
he accepts our compliments. “I brought you our dessert sampler,” he
says as he sets the platter in the center of the table. It’s
covered with strawberries and cream, wedges of cake and some type
of fruit cobbler. I can’t imagine fitting any more food down my
gullet, but by the looks of it I’m going to have to try.

Vince wishes us
Bon appetit
before
stepping away with promises to join us outside for the after party
as soon as he’s able. We pass around a stack of small plates, and I
wait for Rhiannon to make her selection. She plucks a big red
strawberry from the tray and takes a bite of it. I know I’m
staring, but I’m a guy – I can’t help it. Watching her sink her
teeth into the ripe fruit is possibly one of the most erotic things
I have ever seen. When some juice dribbles down her chin I imagine
licking it off, and it makes me shudder. I tear my eyes away before
I can dwell anymore on my carnal instincts.

By the time we finish our dessert along with
the last drops of wine, the party outside is already in full swing.
There is a fully stocked bar on the upper deck that curves around a
stone fire pit, and we initially congregate there.

Rhiannon tugs on my sleeve, and I gaze down
into her big eyes. A jolt of affection surges through me before I
remember to ask her what she needed. “Will you get me a glass of
water?” she asks.

“Of course. Are you feeling okay?” It amazes
me how effortlessly I shift into caretaker mode around Rhiannon,
because she really isn’t the type of girl who needs or even wants
to be taken care of.

She nods, her soft mouth curving into a half
grin. “I’m fine, I just need to stay hydrated if I’m going to hold
my own out on that dance floor.”

I smile back at her and give her shoulder a
squeeze before going over to flag down the bartender. By the time I
get back with her ice water, the others are ready to head down to
the lower level, where the band has struck up an instrumental cover
of a Rat Pack song and a few brave souls have ventured out onto the
dance floor.

“Shall we?” I ask, offering my arm to lead
her after them.

Rhiannon – Saturday, 10:15 PM

W
e follow along
behind Corinne, Ruthie and Patrick as they descend the steps to the
deck where the band is playing. We huddle next to a space heater at
the edge of the dance floor and watch as a few older couples sway
to a slow song. Vince joins us not long after and takes Corinne for
a twirl; a moment later Blake bends close to my ear and says,
“Dance with me.”

I smile at him as I place my mostly empty
water glass on a nearby table. “After you, friend.”

He takes my hand and steers me to a spot near
the middle of the dance floor. He plants his feet and pulls me in,
settling his right hand on my waist and clutching my hand in his
left. I place my hand gingerly on his shoulder and follow along as
he sways back and forth, stepping his feet together and apart,
forward and back.

“That’s some fancy footwork you’re
practicing, partner,” I laugh as I look down and watch his shiny
shoes shuffling against the parquet floor. His only response is to
twirl me around – in my current state of tipsiness it seems I’m in
danger of losing my balance, but just as I feel myself careening
out of control his strong arms reel me back in, spinning me around
to face him again. A smug smile plays out across his features, and
I snort as I clasp both hands behind his neck to steady myself.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I huff, and he laughs.

The song changes, another oldie I vaguely
recognize, a bit slower than the last tune. Blake reaches behind
his neck and unclasps my hands before drawing my right hand back
around the front of his chest and twining his fingers with mine. He
presses closer against me, and his deep voice rumbles in my ear as
he begins to sing along with the song.

“
I will follow you,

Follow you wherever you may go.

There isn’t an ocean too deep,

A mountain so high it can keep—keep me
away,

Away from my love.”

My breath catches as my heart flutters in my
chest. I can feel my shoulders tensing as he all but nuzzles
against my neck, his hand moving around from my waist to the small
of my back.

I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to empty
my mind of its indecent thoughts. I reluctantly lean back to catch
Blake’s gaze with my own. “Are you serenading me, Blake?” I ask,
working to lighten my tone.

He smiles. “Just singing,” he says. “My
grandparents used to have this song on a forty-five. I haven’t
heard it in years.”

I offer him a close-lipped smile in response.
I’m not sure whether I feel more relieved or disappointed by his
casualness.

The song ends, and I make some excuse about
needing to find my water. Blake follows me as I file back off the
dance floor. We’ve just reached the edge when he pulls his phone
out of his pocket and looks at it, apparently reading a text
message. His face scrunches into a frown.

“Will you be all right if I step out and make
a phone call real quick?” he asks.

I nod, wondering who it could be that demands
his attention. “I’ll be here when you get back,” I tell him before
he turns away and strides up the steps and out of view.

10:45 PM

S
ometime later I’m
nursing Ruthie’s wine cooler while she takes a turn on the floor
with Patrick, who actually appears quite smitten with her. I’m
surprised when I hear my name.

“Rhiannon?” I spin around in search of
whoever it is that knows me. My eyes settle on a familiar looking
face lit up with a million watt smile. I rack my muddled brain,
trying to place him. It comes to me slowly:
Beach…Frisbee…falling…sand…body.
Bingo
. He must have seen
the recognition click into place on my face, which frequently gives
away too much when I’ve been drinking, because he begins to laugh
as he swaggers towards me. His sandy hair falls partway across his
forehead, and instead of shorts and a tank top he’s in an ochre
shirt and brown tie that exactly matches the chocolate hue of his
eyes.

“Andy, right?” I ask. “It’s good to see you!
Glad to see I didn’t break any bones.”

“Nope, no harm done,” he says. “What are you
doing here?”

“Oh, friend of a friend. We know one of the
kitchen managers. And you?”

“My uncle is part owner,” he says. He watches
me for a moment, and the hint of a smile in his eyes stirs a warmth
within me that isn’t altogether unwelcome. “Are you here alone?” he
asks carefully, taking another step toward me.

“I’m with a friend,” I say truthfully.

He nods. “In that case, will you dance with
me, Rhiannon?”

“I sure will,” I say, placing my hand in his.
“Will you hold this?” I ask, handing my water glass to Ruthie as
she comes off the floor. She grins as she takes it from me. Andy
guides me out onto the floor amid the other couples as the band
strikes up a livelier tune that sounds like a cover of “Losing My
Religion” by R.E.M.

“So, disclaimer – I’m not the best dancer,”
he says into my ear as he wraps his right hand around my waist and
grasps my right hand in his left.

“Well you’ve got the arms right, that’s half
the battle,” I say encouragingly. “We don’t have to do anything
fancy.”

He pulls back and smiles at me as he begins
rocking from side to side. “You know, I never thought I’d see you
again. It must be meant to be.” He wraps his arm further around the
back of my waist and spreads his fingers to cover the small of my
back. My body responds to his, but for a moment something else
spikes inside of me, something that feels wrong. I wonder if I’m
feeling somehow beholden to Blake since he’s the one I came here
with, but then my thoughts shift to the phone call he ran off to
make in the parking lot, probably to his girlfriend.
I don’t owe
him anything
. I grip Andy’s shoulder tighter, unconsciously
giving him the green light to hold me closer.

Blake – Saturday, 11:00 PM

I
’m standing in the
shadows on the side of the building close to the valet lot.
Jordan’s text message had been cryptic:

Will you please call me? I need you.

I’m determined to find out what’s going on
and get my ass back over there as quickly as possible. I can barely
stand the thought of leaving Rhiannon alone, knowing it’s only a
matter of time before the vultures descend.

It takes a while, but eventually I manage to
calm Jordan down enough so that she can explain why she’s so upset.
Turns out she had a huge fight with her best friend Cherish
(seriously, her name is
Cherish
– what the hell?). Jordan
bawls inconsolably while she gives me the play-by-play of their
argument, and I struggle to keep my irritation in check as I offer
soothing words here and there.

When it seems she’s gotten it out of her
system for the most part I begin the onerous task of extricating
myself from the conversation. Getting off the phone with Jordan
when she’s upset requires a great deal of finesse, since there’s a
delicate balance between mollifying her and completely setting her
off again. Thankfully, after six years, I have perfected the fine
art of appeasement.

This isn’t to say I don’t actually care about
whatever it is that’s plaguing my girlfriend. I’ve always been her
shoulder to cry on, and there was a time when knowing she was
comfortable enough to come to me with her problems felt like my
crowning achievement. Nowadays, there are times when I just wish we
could trim away all the ugly fat that’s grown around what is good
and pure about our relationship and go back to the way things were
before. I’ve only just recently begun to realize how much more
difficult that is than I had originally anticipated.

Once I hang up the phone I check the time and
curse under my breath at the amount of time I’ve spent out here. I
jog back around the side of the building to the outdoor seating
area and begin to search for Rhiannon. She isn’t by the bar where I
left her. Remembering where she said they’d be, I walk to the
railing and peer down.

I see Corinne first. She’s talking to Vince,
gesticulating wildly as he laughs. I start down the steps, figuring
Rhiannon can’t be far. I nearly fall off the last step when I spot
her. She’s dancing, but not alone. My heart pounds in time with the
throbbing in my head as I take in the guy she’s dancing with. He’s
squeezing her up against his side so that one of her legs is
between his, and his hands are holding her in places they
shouldn’t. And the worst of it is I can’t even see her face to
gauge whether she’s enjoying herself.

Bile rises in the back of my throat as I walk
toward them. I grab a glass of champaign off a tray as I pass and
take a drink of it, hoping it will help calm my nerves. The buzz
that had mostly subsided in my time on the phone with Jordan
resurfaces, taking the edge off the pain cinching up my chest.
Feeling emboldened by the alcohol, and possibly a tad reckless, I
continue allowing myself to be drawn toward Rhiannon. Once I’m
close enough to inspect the fucker who has his face buried in her
neck, I’m taken aback when I realize I know him. He’s that guy from
the beach last week.
Holy hell
.

I remember watching Rhiannon splayed out on
top of him on the sand, the way he had seemed to be enjoying
himself a little too much. It’s all the imagery my fuzzy brain
needs to think I’m doing the right thing when I sidle up to them
and pull firmly on the guy’s shoulder to get him to step away from
my date.

“What are you doing, Blake?” asks Rhiannon,
but I’m too busy staring down the moron who thought he could put
his hands all over her to care whether she sounds angry at the
moment.

“Seriously, dude, what the fuck?” he
says.

“I’d like to dance with my date now, if you
don’t mind,” I tell him, reaching for Rhiannon’s hand. I’m knocked
slightly off kilter when she turns and stalks away instead of
letting me grab onto her. I watch her disappear through the crowd,
a frown etched on her face.

Andy makes a move like he’s about to go after
her, and that gets my blood boiling all over again. I’m about to
say something else I’ll probably regret later when I feel a hand
pressed against my chest. I look down and find Corinne looking up
at me wearing a stern expression. I’m only slightly relieved when I
see she has a grip on the other guy’s arm, too, anchoring him in
place.