From Here to Hidden

CHAPTER 29 - JASON

How in the world am I supposed to carry on any kind of sensible conversation with anyone when she looks like that? Jason found himself struggling to keep himself focused on any sort of conversation as people popped by to shake his hand and say hello to his mother. He knew that at least seven of the single staff members had come to speak to him because of who was sitting at his table. She might think otherwise, but there was no way anyone in the room didn't recognize how unbelievably beautiful Beth looked that evening.

The dress, he knew, was partly to blame. It was in no way revealing or inappropriate, but it fit her perfectly and hugged her figure in all of the right places. Her dark hair reflected the ambient lighting throughout the room and her dark makeup gave her a sultry and mysterious smolder that Jason couldn't tear his eyes away from. Mick Rogers, the Junior High P.E.Coach had been to their table three times so far and had already secured a dance with Beth later that evening. Jason had overheard him ask her while he was answering questions about the upcoming board meeting.

He was relieved when the wait staff finally began to bring out the food. Everyone was forced to return to their seats for dinner, leaving just the four of them at their table. He felt childish, but he wanted Beth to himself. He was thankful for Stacey and the fact that she was keeping his mother engaged in conversation. He hadn't had much of a chance to talk to Beth in months; at least nothing other than the occasional short conversation in passing or a quick catch up regarding soccer.

As the waiter brought their salads and he gave a quick check to make sure Stacey had his mother engaged in a conversation that might last for longer than a few minutes. Christmas music played softly in the background so he was forced to lean closer to Beth so she could hear. He placed his hand on her arm, reveling in how soft her skin was beneath his hand.

"I meant what I said earlier," he whispered.

Beth leaned closer to him, not bothering to pull away from his touch. He could smell the familiar fragrance of her perfume; the one that had lingered in their guest room for weeks after she and Chris stayed at their house.

"About what?"

"About you. Tonight. You look absolutely breathtaking."

She blushed and looked down at the napkin in her lap. He reached his hand out and brushed a stray strand of hair off her face with his finger. He felt the goosebumps rise on her bare arms, pleased with the reaction something so simple had garnered from her.

"Really, Beth," his finger trailing her jawline, "I can't take my eyes off of you. Promise me a dance, later?"

She lifted her gaze to his face, her eyes moving from his eyes to his nose, to his mouth and back. He felt a deep longing and pull in his stomach, almost a physical ache.

"I'm not much of a dancer, but I would be willing to try."

He smiled and gave her arm a light squeeze, reluctant to remove his hand. There was so much mystery in her face and her eyes. He felt as though he could know her for a lifetime and still never know everything he wanted to know about her. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his palms down the top of his legs. His mind was reeling with thoughts of her, thoughts of them, thoughts of waking up beside her and watching her sleep. He'd never experienced what he was feeling at that moment. His entire life he'd been taught that desire and passion were wrong. His entire marriage had been almost robotic; just the next step in a series of steps that he was required to take.

Wendy had been everything a wife was supposed to be. She was quiet, submissive but not a doormat, rarely raised her voice, and was a phenomenal mother. She was one of two women he had ever kissed, the only one he'd ever slept with, and was the only one he'd ever thought he loved. But, despite all of those things, there had never been passion or fire between them. Intimacy had been routine and dry, more of a box to check off of the list. She'd never flirted with him or touched him outside of a handhold. His marriage, he felt, had simply been one of convenience and routine. He hated that he felt that way and part of him felt a sense of guilt for even thinking it. Yet, what he felt when he looked at Beth—when he touched her, even in a way that meant nothing, when he was near her, when he looked into her eyes—it was unlike anything he'd felt with Wendy.