Use Somebody

by Riley Jean

  I looked down to survey the damage and stared in horror at my bright pink bra under my now see-through white top. The wetness had sealed the thin fabric to my skin, and everything that had been covered up was now brazenly on display. I hated attention on a good day; having everyone witness my impromptu wet t-shirt solo was like something out of a freakish nightmare.

  I… was… mortified.

  “Oops,” said a female voice behind me. Immediately I recognized her false sincerity. It was the same girl who had called me adorable earlier tonight. “Complete accident. I swear.”

  A cruel chorus of laughs and taunts rung out as I stood there, drenched and stupefied. Tears of humiliation pricked my eyes at the stark reminder—I didn’t belong here and everyone knew it. Why had I even tried?

  I turned away from them, ready to bolt, but hit a solid wall of flesh instead. Instinctually my arms wrapped themselves around the body in front of me as I hid my face in the nook of his chest. I had no idea who this person was or why I hadn’t bumped into him and just kept running. It was like this lost little girl needed something to grasp and just reached out for him.

  The laughing crowd, the wet shirt, everything fell away in the warmth of his skin and his calming, masculine scent.

  As I clung to him, his chest rumbled against my cheek, demanding, “What in the bloody blue hell is wrong with you?” Fierce waves of anger rolled off him, snapping me back to reality.

  What was I thinking, molesting this half naked stranger while soaking wet and on the verge of tears? This night had been one disaster after another, and now I had managed to piss someone off. I just needed to get out of there. But the second I tried to pull away, one strong arm came around to hold me in place.

  “I… I’m sorry,” stuttered the girl behind me.

  I froze. Now I was really confused. I thought he had been talking to me.

  “Brilliant. Now be a doll and apologize to the correct person,” he bit out.

  Whoa, whoa, whoa. Was he sticking up for me? That really wasn’t necessary. I didn’t need a forced apology from the girl. She’d likely just put me on some sorority hit list later. I just wanted to leave.

  The girl scoffed. “You must be kid—”

  “Now.”

  To my absolute dread, he shifted us so when I opened my eyes, I was looking straight into the face of one very irritated chick. She didn’t seem as drunk as she had earlier. I wasn’t sure if she had sobered, or if she had just been acting drunk earlier for the sake of… who knew?

  She leered at me as if I were nothing more than the ants at her picnic. “Sorry, Scarlett,” she muttered through tight red lips.

  “Thank you,” I said softly. Just kill me. Kill me now.

  She looked up to the man for approval. I couldn’t see his expression, but whatever it was might have actually made the girl wet herself in fear. She slinked away from us and within seconds, everyone returned to their own conversations. Someone turned the music volume back up, the girls around us resumed their dancing, and the game of quarters continued.

  Meanwhile, I became hyperaware that I was wet and pressed up against a very shirtless stranger.

  Awkward seconds ticked by as we stood unmoving in each other’s arms while the party carried on around us. I was almost too embarrassed to look upon his face. I wished—not for the first time tonight—that the floor would open up and swallow me whole. He held me patiently until I gathered my bearings and slowly detached myself.

  The first thing I noticed was his incredible physique. He was built unlike anything I had ever seen in real life, well-muscled and lightly dusted with golden droplets of beer. Good looking boys I had grown accustomed to seeing around here were lean or toned, not deliciously sculpted into a vision of perfection worthy of screensavers everywhere.

  Had I really just been pressed against this fine specimen? I belonged in his arms even less than I belonged at this party. He could have been in an underwear advertisement. I swallowed. Or something a little less improper.

  When had I turned into one of those girls? It wasn’t like me to ogle perfect strangers. I fought the urge to continue my perusal and looked up to the face of my defender.

  I gasped when my gaze collided with a pair of startling blue eyes so brilliantly captivating, they seemed to twinkle at me even in the dim lighting. So deep and all-knowing, they saw beneath the innocent face, beyond the imposter, and straight into me. They rendered me immobile. They stripped me bare.

  It was nothing profound, really. Just a subtle exchange of glances between two people passing in the night. Yet my heart knew it was also everything. The fleeting kind of sensation that only happens once in a lifetime; a moment… a connection with a perfect stranger. As if everything, all the doubts and confusion leading up to tonight suddenly made perfect sense.

  Unbelievable as it may be, I felt it—right then and there—that this moment would forever alter the course of my life.

  All thoughts of propriety and restraint flew out the window when I looked into those eyes. The slowest ever slow-motion smile graced his lips, and I blushed, convinced that he could read my mind. And why wouldn’t he? Certainly, with a face like this, with a body like that, and those eyes… good gracious, even a reserved girl could only take so much.

  “There we are, love,” he said, gently using his fingers to wipe the wetness from my face. “No harm done, then?”

  Blush re-colored my cheeks at his endearment. Not “cute.” Not “adorable.” Not even the standard guy accolade of “hot.” No, this handsome stranger just called me “love.” And in an accent that sounded like a song.

  Again, he waited patiently for me to gather myself. But he would be waiting a long time because I might as well have been momentarily struck dumb.

  …Words? Sorry. I’ve forgotten them all.

  Once he realized I was incapable of speech, he took pity on me and spoke again.

  “My apologies for saying bloody blue hell,” he offered.

  That prompted a coy smile and even a tiny laugh from me. He appeared not to notice his state of undress so I pretended to do the same, intentionally keeping my eyes above his neck. Although the deep dimples and pink tint surely gave me away.

  Encouraged, he brought his hand to my eye level and presented something bunched in his fingers.

  “Go on,” he said gently, “Seems you need this more than me right now.”

  Once I realized he was holding a t-shirt, my eyes locked on his blue ones again. The whole reason behind our collision clicked into place. After I was doused with the beer, he immediately stripped and rushed forward half-naked so he could give me the shirt off his own back.

  It was like a scene from an old book that definitely would have been highlighted. Or the moment in a rom-com where the music built to a crescendo. That might have been the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me, and from a stranger no less! Just when I thought common decency was too much to expect…

  Any hurt I felt over the girls’ cruelness was immediately replaced by a fuzzy tingle. I must have sensed something protective in this person, which is why I clung to him for comfort instead of continuing to run. My heart instantly warmed, and my ever-practical brain turned to mush.

  Lest anyone see the revealing front of my shirt, he stood as close as possible to me, acting like a human shield. He slipped the new t-shirt over my head and I lifted my arms through the sleeve holes. Then he reached around my neck to help me pull my hair through as I drew the hem down. We worked together until I was properly covered, all the while his blue eyes never left mine.

  His attentiveness surprised me. Guys were usually more interested in getting a girl undressed. And here this Good Samaritan was helping me clothe myself!

  The shirt was plain black and rather large on me, but I didn’t care. The cotton was soft and dry and it smelled like him. I bit my lip, feeling a twinge of guilt for ruining it with the stench of beer, but not sorry enough to give it back.

  I watched intently as he used one l
ong finger to wrap around a tendril of hair framing my face. What was once a shiny blond spiral had become a rat’s nest. Just my luck to meet this handsome stranger when I looked like such a mess. I fought against the insecurities that called for me to fidget.

  As if he could read my thoughts, he dipped his chin and eyed me from under his dark lashes. “It looks even more dashing on you,” he winked. “Keep it. And try and stay out of trouble.”

  Then, before I’d even gotten out a single, solitary word, he walked away.

  It took about ten seconds for me to realize letting him go just wasn’t an option. No way fate had brought me this angel only to take him away again so soon.

  Pushing away my qualms, I followed, squeezing through the crowds and searching faces. Finding him wasn’t difficult. His large stature practically filled the small space, calling to me like a beacon. He had his back towards me, head tilted down, zipping himself into a black hoodie.

  “Thank you,” I called out, finally remembering my ingrained manners. At the sound of my voice, he stilled.

  Nervous, I stepped closer, tugging at the hem of my shirt. “This almost put a damper on my dancing,” I joked.

  When he finally turned and his twinkling blue eyes met mine, any feelings of not belonging were erased. I was so glad to be right here, right now.

  One side of his lips tilted up, revealing the sexiest smirk I had ever seen. It was a good thing I had just spoken, because I’d need another minute before I could do it again.

  “Well now, that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” He took a step forward and offered me a hand. Even a simple outstretched hand did things to me. “Shall we?” he said, in that old school classy sort of way.

  Without needing one single second to think about it, I placed my small hand in his.

  With an unwavering gaze, he led us back to the middle room. If someone were to shout my name right then, I wouldn’t have noticed. If people were still staring at me, I didn’t even care. The noise, the smoke and the bodies around us all paled next to the man with the musical voice and hypnotic blue eyes. My focus was solely on him. I would have followed him into traffic.

  We came to a stop, inches apart, still glued at the hands and the eyes. In one smooth motion, he lifted my hand in the air and spun me in a full circle, first one direction and then the other, until I came to face him again. I had to lean forward and lay my free hand on his shoulder to steady myself, placing us even closer. Twirling didn’t usually have such a dizzying affect on me, so it was safe to guess that it wasn’t the dancing that had me off balance. Or short of breath.

  He rested a large hand on my hip and pulled, bringing us into a formal dancing position. Barely breathing, I looked up at him, waiting for his cue. From this position I half-expected him to lead us in a sensual tango. Even though he appeared completely self assured, our contact had my heart pounding double-time.

  When he bent down to whisper in my ear, my eyes glazed over. “Dance with me, Scarlett?” Then he straightened and looked down at me, eyes expectant, once again holding me in a trance.

  If I opened my mouth, something overly enthusiastic and unladylike might’ve spilled out. Not trusting myself to speak, all I could manage was a nod.

  And right there in the middle of adolescent chaos, we danced.

  I loved that he wasn’t bumping and grinding against me, the way most boys danced. He moved fluidly to the music, connecting with the song and letting the rhythm guide us, using it to lead me. He wasn’t afraid to hold my hand or grip my hips as we danced, but he deliberately left a little space between us, which was refreshing.

  It’s not that I didn’t want him to touch me—I had never been more okay with someone touching me—but the respectful gesture stood out to me. A unique kind of tension built, and I liked it. I liked wondering what his next move would be rather than having to slow him down. I liked the mystery without the guilt of compromise. Such small gestures spoke volumes of the stranger before me. Had I actually met a gentleman at this party?

  One song melted into the next, yet he showed no signs of wanting to stop. It was easy to get swept away. His magnetic pull drew me in and like putty in his hands, I molded myself to his movements and tempo.

  Suddenly a country song came on, and we both laughed at the abrupt change in pace. I was an embarrassment to my southern roots, unaware of how to dance to this music. I paused in place, blinking up at him, blushing, and overall just trying to breathe.

  “Oh, don’t get shy on me now, love,” he smirked widely then took my hands again. To my surprise he knew exactly what he was doing. With precision and grace, he led me in a choreographed series of movements where our arms lifted over our shoulders, and he spun me away then back into him.

  “Two-stepping,” he said in my ear when I was cuddled into him.

  I grinned. This guy could dance!

  After a few cycles through the routine, I caught on and was dancing it right along with him. We moved together like a well-practiced duo. Even people around us stopped to make room as he added in extra twirls and a dramatic dip. I wasn’t even embarrassed. What was the point of dancing if you couldn’t have fun?

  After twelve years away from Texas, this former southern sweetheart could officially two-step.

  When the song came to an end, we were breathing heavily through our laughter. He led me out of the room and into the kitchen for water, grins still in place. I couldn’t remember the last time I had such fun, and I was pleasantly surprised that he still seemed eager to spend time with me.

  “So…” I said, intentionally trying to make my brain cells work. “You’re not from around here.”

  He gifted me that sexy smirk once more. “What gave me away?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It might’ve been the accent. Or the fact that you called me love.” I smiled demurely into my cup. “The two-stepping did throw me off a bit, though.”

  “Quite perceptive. I’m from all over, as it were, though I’ve spent the last few years in the states.” He paused to study me. “If you don’t mind me saying, I gather you’re not from around here either.”

  I blushed a little. Of course it looked like I didn’t belong. “I grew up here, believe it or not.”

  “Is that so,” he said in that devastatingly charming way of his. Definitely some sort of European, most likely British. “You bested me, then. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was getting an entirely different vibe from you.”

  I looked up at him with wide, brown eyes. “What kind of vibe?”

  “Well, let’s see, shall we.” Thoughtful fingers stroked his darkly stubbled chin while he circled me. “Ah, yes…” His voice grew quiet, serious. His gaze held me in place. “Open fields. Wild flowers. Horses grazing in the sunrise. A warm afternoon sipping iced tea on the porch swing, sitting next to the one person in the world that makes you feel like home… am I close?”

  It was pure poetry. A life from a dream no one could have ever known.

  “All that from a dance?”

  “It was more than one dance,” he smiled. “Truth be told, I was a bit of a country lad, myself. From what I’ve seen of the world, there are no better people.”

  It was official—we were soul mates.

  “I lived in Texas until I was six,” I smiled wistfully. “I really miss it. I wanted to move back for college.”

  His head tilted as he studied me with his penetrating gaze. “Why didn’t you?”

  With a small shrug I admitted, “I guess I didn’t want to leave my friends.” The reason seemed kind of stupid now. Our clique of six disbanded. Miles and I broke up. The only friend I had left was Lexi. And now I was stuck here for the next four years.

  He looked at me with the understanding of a clairvoyant. “But now you regret staying,” he deduced, voice smooth as silk.

  How did he do that? How was he able to just stand there looking amazing while my pulse thundered away like a jackhammer? It was that knowing glint in his eyes; he had me pegged in an instant.
>
  I cleared my throat. “So what brought you to California?”

  I felt his roguish grin all the way down to my pinky toes. “Why, big dreams, of course.” He leaned down closer to me and winked. “And a nice place it is. So far I’d say it may be my new favorite.”

  Holy cannoli.

  I wanted to say something flirtatious back, but couldn’t find my nerve. I had never been much of a flirt, especially sober. I was too shy and awkward to ever pull it off.

  Unfortunately, before I could get my brain to cooperate, the source of tonight’s troubles caught my attention. “Nice hair,” came her sarcastic remark as she walked past us with a newly filled red cup.

  Without thinking, I let the insecurity show on my face. I had forgotten how awful I must’ve looked after the beer dunking, and here I was standing next to a male masterpiece. She snickered at my reaction then pouted dramatically. “Poor baby.”

  My wide eyes shifted back to the man in front of me. He must have heard her—his expression hardened—though he didn’t turn around.

  “Don’t let that daft prat get to you,” he said quietly. “The sad truth is, she’s just as miserable as everyone else here.”

  “You think?” I asked, merely curious. She was definitely cantankerous, in my totally unbiased opinion. And I was feeling a bit under the weather sitting here like a wet dog. But… miserable? Everyone? That was quite a statement.

  “I’ll let you in on a secret…” he leaned in conspiratorially, “She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  I blinked at his beautiful face. “How do you figure?”

  “They’re all just playing the game.”

  “I know all about the game,” I gave a disheartened nod. “I’m terrible at it.”

  He shook his head reassuringly. “Don’t you fret, love. You see, you’ve just figured out what this entirely unpleasant lot hasn’t yet.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “It’s nothing but a load of bullocks.”