"Hey, I'm going to go get a drink at the bar," I shout over the pulsating music, catching Sophie's attention. She nods in acknowledgment and then returns to dancing with Leah, fully engrossed in the rhythm.
As I weave my way through the crowd, I keep my eyes peeled for Henry, hoping to spot him somewhere amidst the dancing and laughter. However, he seems to have vanished since Leah and Sophie whisked me away to the dance with them.
Finally reaching the bar, I lean against the counter to catch Remi's attention. "Remi, can I get another martini, please?" I request, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the music and chatter.
"Sure thing," he replies with a smile and starts preparing my drink. As I wait, I turn my attention to the stool next to me, where Anna Claire is sitting.
"You should come dance with us," I suggest to Anna Claire, briefly looking at the crowd of people and scanning the room again in search of Henry.
Her smile brightens as she responds, "Oh no, I'm more of a line-dancing kind of girl."
"Well, we'll definitely have to go line dancing together then sometime," I say, returning her smile with a grin of my own. Then, with a hint of concern, I ask, "Hey, do you happen to know where Henry went? I can't seem to find him anywhere."
Her head snaps in my direction, studying my expressions with a hint of hesitation before her face takes on an apologetic look. "Oh, he didn't tell you he was leaving?"
"He left?" I blurt out, disbelief coloring my voice.
"I think he went home," Anna Claire says, adding to my confusion.
"But he literally just got here," I interject with frustration. Anna Claire simply shrugs, unable to offer any further explanation.
Confusion grips me as I look around the bar, trying to comprehend why Henry would abruptly leave. He seemed fine when we were dancing—more than fine, actually. I could quite literally feel how hard he was when he was dancing against me.
Refocusing on Anna Claire, I ask urgently, "When did he leave? It couldn't have been long ago, right?"
"About five minutes, I think," Anna Claire responds, glancing down at her phone briefly for the time. My heart pounds in my chest as I spot Sophie and Leah making their way back from the dance floor. My eyes then dart toward the exit.
"I'll be right back. Can you let Sophie and Leah know?" I request, my voice filled with urgency. Without waiting for an answer I stride towards the door.
Stepping outside, the muggy evening air wraps around me, clinging to my skin and the fabric of my dress, as I head towards Anne Rose Beach. Halfway there, the realization dawns upon me—catching up with Henry seems nearly impossible. Determined, I slip off my cowboy boots, freeing my feet to move swiftly, and I quicken my pace.
Finally, when I round a corner, there he is, just a few yards ahead of me. It's clear that he left the bar much earlier than I thought, as he's already almost home, walking steadily on the street towards our house.
"Henry!" I call out to him, and he stops in his tracks, spinning around with surprise etched across his features.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice filled with shock as I come to a stop a few feet away from him.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to jog in cowboy boots?" I remark, slightly out of breath.
He glances down at my bare feet and then looks at my white cowboy boot I'm holding in my hand. "I thought you didn't take off your shoes in the middle of the street," he says, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, please, Lewis," I say, playfully dismissing his comment with a wave of my hand. "These are cowboy boots, they're no Valentinos,"
He takes a moment to process my unexpected appearance before repeating himself, "What are you doing here, Chloe?"
His question hangs in the air, and I find myself hesitating, realizing I'm not entirely sure why I'm here in the first place. My body seemed to have a mind of its own, leading me to him without much thought. And I'm now realizing I may not have anything concrete to say to him at all.
A heavy sigh escapes him as I remain silent, and with an air of resignation, he starts to walk away. "Wait," I call out, urgency in my voice as I hasten to catch up with him.
"What do you want, Chloe?" he says, a touch of frustration in his voice.
"Why'd you leave?" I say, deflecting his question.
"I was done," he responds.
"You had just gotten there and you were done?" I question.
"Yup," he says, turning towards the walkway leading to his house, pulling his keys out of his pocket.
"Henry, will you please just talk to me for a second?" I plead as he walks up to his door.
"There's nothing to talk about," he says, his hand poised to unlock the door.
Determined to make him listen, I swiftly position myself in front of him, blocking his path and preventing him from reaching the doorknob.
"What are you doing?" he asks, his frustration evident as he stops in front of me.
"I'm not letting you go in until you talk to me," I assert, my voice tinged with a mix of determination and pleading.
"Chloe," he says, placing his hands on his hips, looking down at the floor.
"Henry, I'm sorry," I plead with him. "I know you're mad at me. I don't entirely remember what I may have said to you the other night but I'm sorry."
"I'm not," he begins, his teeth grazing his lower lip, his head shaking with a mixture of emotions. "I'm not mad at you."
"Henry, you could hardly look at me when we were at the beach yesterday," I reveal, emotions bubbling up inside me, yet I try to keep them in check.
"I'm just done playing games, Chloe," he responds, looking up at me with a blend of frustration and honesty.
"I'm not trying to play games with you, Henry," I assert firmly, wanting him to understand my sincerity.
He shakes his head, his irritation mixing with confusion. "Then what do you want? What do you want from me, Chloe?" he asks, his brown eyes locking onto mine.
"I, uh... I'm..." I stammer, feeling overwhelmed with uncertainty. I shake my head, trying to gather my thoughts and find the right words.
My heart races, my mind torn between conflicting emotions. I don't know what I want. Admitting that I want him feels scary. It's like my heart is torn between longing for him and being terrified of the vulnerability that comes with it.
He takes a step towards me, his eyes searching for some sign of clarity. "What is it that you want?" he asks again, his tone more assertive this time.
Nervously, I bite my lip, my nerves frayed. "I'm not sure!" I blurt out, my words escaping without restraint, afraid of disappointing him.
He nods, his frustration palpable. "Chloe," he exhales.
"I'm not sure what I want," I say again, feeling the weight of my indecision pressing on me.
He reaches for the doorknob once again, and I urgently exclaim, "Wait!" He pauses in his tracks, waiting for me to say something, but my words remain trapped within me as I block his path. I can sense his impatience as another deep sigh escapes him. I'm fully aware that I'm pushing his limits, but I can't help it—I need time to figure this out.
His jaw tightens, and I watch as he takes another step towards me, inching closer, closing the distance between us. My heart quickens as I instinctively take a step back, only to find myself backed up against the unyielding surface of his front door. Trapped between him and the door, I can feel the tension in the air mounting.
In a swift and unexpected movement, he roughly grips my waist with one hand, pulling me tightly against him, while his other hand remains firmly planted against the door. A gasp escapes my lips, caught off guard by his sudden assertiveness. Surprised by the intensity of the moment, my grip on the cowboy boots loosens, and they slip from my hands, landing with a soft thud on the floor.
"Is this what you want?" he whispers in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. He tightens his grip on my waist just a little, causing my dress to ride up slightly.
He's suffocating, crowding me like this, but in the best way possible. I clutch onto his shirt, torn between not wanting him so close and desperately needing him to stay. My heart races erratically, my skin tingling with the heat of his touch seeping through my dress.
"Tell me," He whispers.
I'm struggling to catch my breath with Henry's proximity, let alone form a coherent sentence. Every inch of my body feels like it's engulfed in flames, and I think he knows precisely the effect he has on me.
"I, um... I want..." I stammer breathlessly, my voice barely a whisper. His lips leave my ear and trail down to my jaw, brushing against my skin, causing a soft whimper to escapes my parted lips. I instinctively tighten my grip on his shirt, pulling him closer to me, craving more of his touch.
God, I love the way he feels. I've missed the way it feels when he roughly pulls me in. The way his lips feel against my body. His open lips trace a path down to the curve of my neck, sending a wave of electric sensations through every inch of my body.
Oh my god.
He pulls back slightly, his gaze fixed on me, as if searching for something in my eyes. Then, leaning in again, he whispers softly in my ear, his breath tickling my skin. "I'll see you later, sweetheart." And then I hear the click of the lock on his door.
"What?" I whisper, still dazed by his closeness.
A wave of confusion engulfs me, and my eyes instinctively dart to my side, where I find his free hand is holding the keys, already inserted into the lock. He had deftly unlocked the door while diverting my attention. A smirk dances across his lips and my jaw drops at the realization. With a mix of reluctance and surprise, I loosen my grip on his shirt as he pushes the door open.
"I'll see you later, Clo," he repeats himself with a playful smile on his face, and then steps inside his house, before closing it gently behind him.
I'm left standing there, completely flustered, my feet seemingly glued to the ground. My heart races, my breath unsteady, struggling to catch up with the rush of feelings that swirl and tangle in my chest.
Oh my god. He just used me.
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