Crushing on You

by Jen Trinh

  We all swiveled our heads to take in the views as we got off the shuttle and slowly filed towards where the outdoor ceremony was to take place. I noticed Anna ahead of me, her heels periodically sinking into the dirt, causing her to jerk her feet up in order to get the shoes out, then tiptoe on the balls of her shoes like a T-Rex.

  I left my group and caught up to her, taking her arm and looping it through mine. “Seems like you could use a hand.”

  She got me a grateful look. “Thanks. I thought I was about to get really cozy with these trellises.”

  I laughed and placed my hand over hers. “You’d fit right in, so pretty and pink like the flowers.”

  “Uh huh.” She smiled wryly and shook her head. No eye roll? Progress!

  “What? You are. You look like a thousand bucks.”

  “A thousand? Don’t you mean a million?”

  “If you weren’t walking like a drunk runway model, maybe.”

  Her shoulders shook with quiet laughter. Then she casually placed her other hand over mine and looked up at me through her curled lashes. “You know, you shouldn’t waste your breath flirting with me. You’re never getting into my panties.” The flirtatious look she gave me suggested otherwise.

  Hmm. Was it the Ethiopian food? My bespoke suit? Whatever it was that did the trick, she’d somehow started to come around. I smiled and rubbed my thumb along her fingers.

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Good thing you’re not wearing any right now,” I guessed.

  She stopped walking and gaped at me. “How would you know?”

  I laughed. “Your dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination, especially with that thigh slit.”

  She frowned at me, then shook her head and continued walking. “Whatever,” she muttered. “You know what I mean.”

  Not breaking stride, I shifted towards her and lifted her hand. She watched me closely, her face difficult to read, as I pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “I can’t help flirting with you,” I told her. “You look absolutely stunning.”

  She stopped walking once more and scanned my face, something flickering in her eyes at what she found. Whatever it was, she soon turned and continued ahead without responding, pulling me along with her.

  People turned their heads as I escorted her to the ceremony area—she looked that good. So I didn’t mind that we’d ended up standing near the back together, as nearly all of the seats were filled by the time that we’d arrived.

  The ceremony itself was fairly standard. Cassie, in a huge white princess gown, was escorted down the aisle by her father, a large man with a cartoonishly happy face. Michael stood at the makeshift altar, tall, lean, and bearded, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. The ring bearer, their dog Frankie, wore a bowtie collar with the rings looped through it. He’d trotted up the aisle admirably, and Michael’s best man rewarded him at the end with a small treat.

  A couple of their friends did readings (two poems by e e cummings), then the bride and groom exchanged vows. They promised the usual to each other, were pronounced husband and wife, and sealed it with a PG-13 kiss while we all looked on and cheered.

  No more than fifteen minutes after we’d arrived, the ceremony was complete, and we were asked to head on to the reception area.

  I turned to Anna and offered her my arm again, but she was already walking away, once more stepping on the balls of her shoes.

  “Hey, I’m going to talk to my friends.” With one last unreadable look, Anna turned away and waved excitedly at two women, one of whom was Cassie’s maid of honor. Soon they were all screeching with joy, jumping up and down and hugging and talking over one another. I left them to it.

  I made my way to the seating chart and checked for my name and Anna’s. We weren’t sitting at the same table, not even close. I’d been seated with the Stumpstashers, and she’d been seated with what I assumed was the college crew. Shame.

  Not looking to mingle, I picked up my place card and headed to the bar for a drink.

  Chapter 5

  -Anna-

  I wasn’t used to talking to big groups of people anymore, but I grabbed a glass of wine and threw myself into the task, feigning enthusiasm. I had to, in order to get my mind off of Ian…

  ...his tantalizing cologne…

  ...his firm bicep and rough hands…

  ...his soft, warm lips against my knuckle.

  That last one had really surprised me. The kiss was an old-timey gesture, one that I would have laughed at had someone else been on the receiving end. Instead, I’d found myself melting, my brain turned to mush, dripping and pooling down between my legs. An utterly illogical response.

  It must not have been completely illogical, though, given the number of heads that turned as we walked into the ceremony space.

  I didn’t like where things were going. The things he did to me. Those types of feelings were not supposed to come from that type of guy. Acting on them would surely bring disaster.

  I actively avoided him for the rest of the evening.

  For dinner, I was seated at a table with Jessa and Lisa and their new husbands, Jake and Prashant, as well as some of our other college friends. I thought that they’d be sore at me for missing their weddings, but right off the bat, we were giggling and joking, just like in the old days. Each inside joke and playful exchange filled me with bubbles of warmth, and I silently thanked Cassie for strong-arming me into coming.

  The whole wedding was really sweet, and I was grudgingly affected. Not that I would ever admit it to anyone, but I started tearing up during the ceremony. Despite my cynicism about the institution of marriage, I could see how genuinely pleased Cassie was. This was not Fake News. They way they looked at each other, the same way that Frankie looked at both of them...I was so happy for her, so glad that she had found someone who loved her just as deeply as she loved him. Plus, the speeches from Cassie’s mom and Michael’s dad were hilarious, and Jessa gave a heartwarming speech about how Cassie had brought together all of our friends. She’d even given a shout-out to each person in our crew who had come to the wedding, and I was glad once again that I was there, especially when Cassie came over to our table after the speech to take a silly selfie with us.

  That was one aspect of weddings that I could get behind—bringing old friends back together. In their company, I laughed and cheered and enjoyed myself way more than I’d ever thought possible at a wedding.

  After the speeches came the first dance. For the first minute or so, Cassie and Michael did the usual slow sway, back and forth and side to side. But partway through, the DJ cut over to an upbeat pop song, and Cassie tore off the bottom of her dress, tossed the fabric to Jessa, and broke out into some disco moves with Michael. It was impeccably executed, fun and entertaining and true to Cassie’s style, and as soon as the song ended, the audience erupted in cheers and applause.

  Right after, the DJ invited everyone to join them, opening up the dance floor. The music was top 40, and while it wasn’t my usual cup of tea, I didn’t mind getting up to bounce around with Jessa and Lisa and our old college buddies. It felt a little like we were at a frat party again, especially with the open bar, which I found myself taking advantage of more than once.

  Maybe weddings weren’t so bad.

  But then the DJ announced that it was time for the bouquet toss. I planted myself in my seat, refusing to budge, despite the fact that Jessa and Lisa were both chanting my name. I ignored them and turned to look at Cassie, whom I was annoyed to find staring at me and waving me over, exaggeratedly mouthing Come on! I hid my face behind my hand and stared at the table, mortified. Then Jessa and Lisa chanted louder, and soon my entire table was encouraging me to go.

  Finally, the DJ announced, “Looks like there’s a pretty young lady over there who should join in. Let’s get her to come up, everyone!”

  And then everyone was chanting my name.

  Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

  I threw my hands up in exasperation an
d everyone clapped and cheered as I walked over to the dance floor, to where the bouquet toss was happening.

  I vowed not to catch the bouquet, even if it hit me in the face.

  There were maybe ten of us single ladies, a couple of whom were just young girls who were running and jumping around, excited to participate in the festivities. I noticed Ian then, sitting at the table just behind where I was standing. He’d turned his chair out to face the dance floor (undoubtedly to better see me be humiliated), and he gave me a thumbs up when he saw me looking his way. I stuck my tongue out at him and turned around to face Cassie.

  Cassie peered out at the crowd on the dance floor and purposefully made eye contact with me. She then turned around, peeking over her shoulder to see where I was, and very obviously tried to toss the bouquet in my direction. Her aim was pretty good, and it looked like it might actually hit me, so I took a step back, thinking to dodge it...but then I looked down, too late, as one of the little girls bowled straight into me, trying to catch the bouquet in earnest. I took a few stumbling steps back to try to catch myself, then squawked and fell gracelessly into someone’s lap.

  I could guess whose it was, based on the location and the familiar scent. Hands lightly cupped my hips, his solid chest pressed against my back, warm breath on my neck. “You okay?” he asked, his voice husky against my ear. I arched my back slightly at the sound.

  “Fine.” I struggled to sit up, placing my hands on his knees and sliding back to push myself up. As I did so, my ass encountered something...hard. Oh! My body, ever the betrayer, wanted to sink into him and press his growing erection up against me where I needed it most. I wanted his warmth and his soothing scent to envelop me, his hot hands to touch me all over. Instead, I jumped up and off of his lap. Rather, I tried to, then fell back down and encountered the considerable evidence of his arousal again. Ian’s hands, still on my hips, did very little to help, and his silent laughter rumbled against my back. I had to reach behind me and push hard off of his chest in order to stand. Finally on my feet, I smoothed my dress, turned around, glared at him, and stalked back to my seat. A deep laugh followed me, and I growled at the answering clench low in my belly.

  The DJ just had to make it worse: “I hope the gentleman tips her well after that lap dance.” And then everyone was cracking up. Except me.

  FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

  I sat down and took a deep breath, willing my heartbeat to slow. It was harder than I thought it would be, for two reasons:

  I still felt eyes on me after what was one of the most humiliating moments of my life so far;

  Every cell in my body was prickling with a burning desire. For Ian.

  The first, I could do nothing about, other than to keep a low profile for the rest of the night. I sat down in my seat, took out my phone, and pretended to stare at it. Nothing to see here, people.

  The second, I tackled with cold, hard logic. My body’s reaction to him had been only natural. As I’d mentioned previously, it’d been six months since I’d last gotten laid. It was unfortunate, but...I was thirsty. And I was primed for romance, given the excessively romantic setting. Plus, I’d had a few drinks, which never failed to make me horny, and in my somewhat buzzed state of mind, I had to admit that I found him at least a tiny bit attractive. Alcohol was known to make even the most unattractive of people slightly more appealing. I glanced sidelong at his broad shoulders and long, muscular limbs, packaged all too neatly in his crisp, cobalt suit. Fine, maybe he was more than a bit attractive. But I didn’t want to deal with all of the baggage that undoubtedly came with a Guy Like Him. I was sure that there were just mountains of it. Not my type.

  I tamped down on my desire and tried not to think about him or his sizable bulge.

  After the bouquet toss was the garter toss. I noticed that Ian chose not to get up for it (and wasn’t heckled by his friends or the DJ about it! Stupid double standards), but merely clapped politely as his colleague Tom caught the garter. For some reason, Tom glanced my way. Uh, no thanks.

  Chain letters sent and future marriage victims selected, the DJ played a classic couple’s song, and Jessa and Lisa got up to dance with their husbands. Alone at the table, I took out my phone and checked my messages for the umpteenth time.

  “Care to dance?” I looked up and found Ian, eyes already dancing with amusement, holding out his hand to me.

  “You mean, beyond the lap dance that I just gave you? No thanks.” I turned back to my phone and tapped and swiped at random.

  “C’mon. Just this song.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Besides, if you don’t dance with me, I’m pretty sure Tom is going to come over and ask you, and he’s got two left feet. And possibly a cold.”

  I glanced up and saw that Tom was indeed staring at me. He pushed his thick glasses up and rubbed his nose on his sleeve, as if preparing to come say hi. Ugh. He had a bowl cut, for goodness sake.

  “Fine.” I took Ian’s hand and he led me out to the dance floor, my pulse beating rapidly in my neck. Probably from the alcohol.

  Ian pulled me close, his hands on my lower back. Not sure of the best place to put my own hands, I tentatively placed them on his shoulders. We swayed like that for a bit, my eyes hovering somewhere near his Adam’s apple, not daring to look further up. But then Ian surprised me by stepping out to the beat, taking my hands and spinning me around until my back was to his chest and my arms were crossed in front of me. We swayed like that for a couple of beats, his breath caressing my neck while I desperately fought the urge to lean into him. Then he spun me out again, uncrossing my arms, and pulled me close once more, my hands landing neatly on his chest.

  “Huh. You’re actually a pretty good dancer.” I was genuinely impressed with how smoothly and easily he’d handled my body. Our eyes met, and something fluttered deep in my chest at the keen look in his eyes. I dropped my gaze back to his Adam’s apple.

  “It’s easy when you’ve got a good partner,” he said, turning his head to press lightly into mine. His breath tickled my hair and gently warmed my scalp. He was so hot and—

  I swallowed. Just keep talking. “So do you go dancing a lot?”

  “Ha, no. One of my exes was really into it and she made me learn some moves. Dancing’s okay, but it’s not really my thing.”

  I tsked and ignored the twinge in my chest at the thought of Ian holding another woman close, dancing with her like he was with me. “That’s a shame. I love dancing. It’s so fun to get absorbed in the music, to just let go and see where the beat takes you. Maybe you just haven’t found the right music to dance to, yet.”

  “Maybe. Isn’t that your job? To tell me what I should listen to?” His tone was teasing, but something told me that he was only half-joking.

  “I guess. But I feel like the act of discovering new music is half the fun. If I just told you to listen to stuff, would you actually like it?”

  He shrugged slightly. “I like most music.”

  I shot him a skeptical look. He’d clearly never really listened to music before. “Ok…so you don’t really care for music or dancing. What is your thing?”

  He stepped through and spun me out again, brought me back in and switched hands to spin me out to the other side, then switched hands behind his back once more until we were face-to-face again. I grinned at him. For someone who didn’t really listen to music, he sure seemed able to feel it.

  Finally, he answered, “I wouldn’t say that I don’t care for those things, but I definitely don’t go out of my way to experience them. I do really enjoy cooking and climbing, though.”

  “I see. So what is it about cooking or climbing that you love so much?” The song had changed to yet another classic couples ballad. Although I’d only promised him one dance, I noticed that Tom was still watching us. I ignored him and pulled closer to Ian, whose hand shifted lower, shifting my awareness of him lower, too.

  “For cooking, it’s enjoying the fruits of my labor, and being able to share what I make with loved ones. For climbin
g, it’s getting stronger, both mentally and physically.”

  “Mentally?” The physical part was obvious, but mentally? I wasn’t buying it.

  “Yeah. It’s scary on the wall sometimes, so part of the mental challenge is overcoming that fear. But also, climbing’s just hard. When people encounter enough setbacks, or fail enough times, it can be easy to get discouraged. It’s really important to have a growth mindset and believe that you can always get better, always improve.”

  Ah. I shook my head. “That’s a nice thought, but people definitely have limits. You can’t just keep getting better at things.” I bitterly thought of my stagnant music writing career. After selling one piece several months ago, I hadn’t sold any since.

  He smiled wryly. “Not with that attitude.”

  “Uh huh.” I adjusted my hands so that they were comfortably clasped behind his neck. His rough calluses caught on the fabric of my dress as he smoothed his hands over my hips and pulled me even tighter against him, gently crushing my breasts against his hard chest.

  The close contact between our bodies...his clean, masculine scent...the warm fuzzies from the alcohol...conditions were very bad, and I was liable to make a mistake tonight. I tried to smother the growing warmth between my legs.

  “You know, I was right,” he said.

  “What?”

  He lowered his head so that we were cheek to cheek, then whispered into my ear, “You’re not wearing any panties.” His hands gently squeezed my hips.

  The warmth exploded into a searing inferno. I knew that I should step away from him and douse the flames, but the reckless, perverse part of me wanted to play this game with him...to tease him back.