Once in my room, I shut the door and head right to my bed going face-first into the blankets. I mumble, “What the hell just happened?” as I try to process what that was all about. If I tell Brooke and Miranda about this, they’ll make a big deal out of nothing. Maybe Pax is just lonely. I know that he’s not a player, and if what he said was correct about not being on a date in two years, he’s gotta be lonely. But why me? Why not find a girl tonight and go home with her? Why did he kiss me? Why would he add this type of confusion to my life? Pax and I are just friends, even though I wouldn’t mind being more. Not to mention, I’m confused by every single question he asked. What does open up and let your ambitions go even mean? I almost felt like Brooke and Miranda were telling me to drag my inner kitten out? Is that it? Do I need to step up my game? Is he trying to tell me to find my prince? Was that not a lover’s kiss but one of a goodbye?

Pushing up from my bed, I go over to my closet, digging in the back for something to let the inner me out. After searching, I realize that all my clothes are simple with a little sexy side to them for going out. We’re going for Mexican, so a dress is out of the question. There is no way I’m going to be looking like a call girl up in that place. Plus, you don’t have to have skimpy clothes to look sexy. I can do my hair up in a low twist to showcase my neckline. A way to invite the opposite sex in for a nibble. Finding a pair of tight-fitting bootleg jeans, I search further back for the top that I want. It’s a purple and black baby doll shirt with thin ruffles on the shoulders. I can pair it with my waist-length black jacket and heels. I hardly wear this top since it bunches up in the middle of my breasts, making them seem larger than they are. I slide out my push-up bra and matching lace panties that will be the perfect touch to my outfit. Not that anyone will be seeing them—other than me. But still I know they’re underneath, and I also know how sexy they make me feel. I quickly pop out of my bedroom to grab my makeup bag from the bathroom and retreat back to safety. Careful to not overdo it, I add just enough to give me a natural glow, adding a little purple eyeshadow to make my eyes pop. With a quick twirl of my hair, I pin it low, leaving strands down around my face. Sliding my clothes over my body, I stand back and take in the sight before me. Not bad for a quick pull together. Instead of heading back out to the awkwardness that awaits, I sit down on the corner of my bed and scroll through my phone. As I start to read one of my co-worker’s posts, my phone dings. Closing down Facebook, I open my text.

Pax: You can come out now. It’s almost time to go.

I sit here thinking of something to text back, instead, choosing to ignore it. Deciding to wait for another five minutes before going out, I stand and reassess myself in the mirror. Turning from side to side, I grade myself. I pick apart the way my hips are a little fuller than needed. The way my breasts are full but not over the top, “thank you, push-up bra.” I reach up and twist a strand of loose hair, giving it that extra pop that it needs without having to use the curling iron. Satisfied with my look, I take a deep breath and blow it out as if it were a pep talk to get me through the night. It’ll be comfortable with Brooke and Miranda by my side at dinner. The question is—can we make it to the restaurant and home without it being any weirder than it already has been. With my game face in check, I open the door and hold my head up high as I go in search of Paxton.

Just as I round the corner, I stumble from the sight of him. Paxton’s leaning against the counter. One leg stretched out, head down in his phone, and for once since he’s been here—he looks peaceful. His dark-wash jeans hug his body like they were meant for him. The black-and-white-checkered button-up stretches across his chest showcasing the width of his muscular shoulders. He’s rolled up the sleeves, taking the more casual look. His hair’s ruffled as if he’s been pulling on it in frustration. Paxton still hasn’t shaved, giving him more than just the five-o’clock shadow he showed up with. It’s sexy, and I can’t help but think about how it felt against my skin.

Breaking myself from the daydream, I announce a little louder than intended, “Ready.”

His face rises, meeting mine. “You look gorgeous,” he states before pushing off and heading over to me.

“Thanks,” I say as he puts his hands out to take my jacket. Turning around, I put my arm in and shift to the other as he helps. Before I turn around, Paxton places a gentle kiss on the back of my neck that I feel all the way down to my toes.

“Let’s go,” he states as I feel him break away from me. In a fog, I follow him out the door and to the elevator. Fumbling with the front of my jacket to occupy my mind, I can’t focus on the first kiss or the last one. It wasn’t technically a kiss... It was probably more of a show of affection. You know—you look pretty. Okay, who the hell am I kidding right now… That was a kiss. Not one on the lips, head, or anywhere else. It was placed in the most sensitive spot that I have. A place that will always make me weak in the knees. I’ve never told Pax about that spot, but it makes me wonder if all guys know about the little private areas that we have. Take me for example. I have my neck, one tiny spot on the curve of my back, and a spot on my upper thigh. I know I might be weird, but I have them, and I can’t say that one person has been able to find them all. The few guys that I’ve dated in the past have tried but failed. I can’t help but wonder if this has ever come up in conversation. There have been times when we might have a little too much to drink, and my mouth overflows with information. Just as the doors ding, I’ve figured it out. In a drunken explosion of the mouth, I’ve told Pax where I love to be kissed, and he remembered. Nothing more was meant to be behind it.

Paxton hails us a cab, holding the door open for me to slide across the seat. The drive to the restaurant is silent. Neither of us uttering a single word other than the address to where we’re going. I stare out the window at the lights and passing cars, drumming my fingers against the leather of my bag. When we arrive, Paxton tosses some cash up to the driver and holds his hand out for me. As we walk in, I try to ignore that he’s placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me through the crowd to the hostess station. As he gives her the number in our party, I quickly notice that Brooke and Miranda have beaten us here and have already secured us a table in the back.

“Sorry, I see our friends,” I explain to the hostess who turns to lead us to our table. Quickly, Brooke and Miranda stand and engulf Pax in tight hugs and the normal how have you been.

“What have you guys been doing?” Brooke questions, causing me to choke on my water.

“You okay?” Pax asks as he pats me on the back. All I can do is nod yes, and slide out of my jacket. The moment I turn to place it on the back of my chair, I swear I hear a low growl from Pax’s throat. Recovering quickly, I explain that I’ve been working and Paxton took a little nap. Of course, I leave out the other stuff as that’s not dinner talk in front of the person who happened to rotate my world today.

“When do you leave again?” Miranda asks, and I’m hoping that Paxton answers because this I’ve been wondering myself.

“Actually, I found out this afternoon that I have to head out in the morning. I was hoping to stay in town for a little while longer, but the job calls.”

“Oh,” is all I can manage to say as the three of them carry on. Our waitress returns with our cheese and guacamole dip.

“Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” she asks, and I jump in.

“I’d like to order a drink. I’d like the golden margarita with an extra shot.”

“Wow, really, Annabelle? I thought you had enough last night,” Brooke questions me, but instead of responding I cut my eyes in her direction giving the pipe-it-down look.

“I’ll take one of those,” Paxton states, and it’s me this time who lets out a growl.

“What the hell, we’ll all take one,” Miranda says as she answers for Brooke, who shrugs her shoulders.

Once our drinks arrive, we all place our orders before the three of them talk about everything that’s been going on in the last few months. Paxton tries to keep in contact with Brooke and Miranda while he’s gone, but there are times where I’m the middleman. Somewhere between the first drink, dinner, and the third drink, Miranda orders a round of shots. Even with all the food, the liquor is starting to take its effect. I know this because the moment Paxton excuses himself from the table, I lean toward to the girls and blurt out, “Paxton kissed me on the lips, and before we left, he kissed my neck.”

Leaning back in my chair, I glance around for him to see if he’s snuck back without me noticing him. “What!” Brooke blurts while Miranda laughs and says, “About flipping time.”

“No, not flipping time, and not what but—yes… what!”

“We told you,” Miranda says with a half-ass smirk.

“Miranda, we aren’t in college anymore or even Kansas with a man behind the curtain. This is real, and I’m flipping the hell out.”

Brooke places her napkin down on the table, picks up her drink and sips it while I stare at her like she’s grown two heads. She’s the sensible one of the two and always gives the best advice.

“Annabelle, I need you to listen to me and listen well. Paxton loves you and you love him, so stop fighting this. You’re both older and it’s time to start thinking about the future.”

“What future? The one where I’ll be sitting at home alone waiting for him to come home? The one where I’ll always question if he’s in another person’s arms when he’s not in mine? I don’t think so. You know I’m not doing a long-distance relationship. Paxton’s a traveler—he can’t stay in one place for longer than a weekend, much less a lifetime.”

“People change, so can he. But you do know he won’t change unless you tell him you feel the same.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then you’re only lying to yourself,” Brooke says. Before I can rebuttal, I notice Paxton headed our way.

“What did I miss?” he says as he sits down, placing an arm behind me. The tips of his fingers draw small circles against the bare section of my back, sending chills down my spine. I try to focus on what Miranda is explaining, but I’m doing a terrible job at it. The waitress brings us our check which Paxton quickly swipes it up and gives her his card. I turn and glare at him as he always does this. With a wink, he leans in and whispers, “It’s okay to let other people do nice things for you. Remember to let yourself go tonight.”

With a snarl, I respond, “Pretty sure I have, and our night is coming to an end.”

“It’s only just begun,” he whispers back.

“Where to next?” Miranda asks.

“What about that bar on the corner? We can hang out there for a little while longer, but I can’t stay out late tonight,” Brooke suggests.

“Perfect, let’s go, ladies.”

We all follow Paxton’s lead as we head out of the restaurant. It might not be apparent to anyone else around us, but I’m sure Brooke and Miranda haven’t missed the fact that he’s leading me—and only me—down the crowded sidewalk.

They don’t waste any time ordering up another round of shots as I secure us a high-top table off to the side. The music blares around us as I take my jacket back off as it feels like they’ve turned the heater on. I know it’s only because of the number of bodies that are shoved inside, and the way Paxton keeps looking at me. Twelve shot glasses land before me on the dingy table that’s a little wobbly. Miranda, being the leader of the pack, begins to count. One, two, three, and down the hatch goes the first shot before we toss a lime in our mouths to counteract the burn. A few minutes go by before the second round flies down each of our throats. The last one hits the bottom of my stomach, causing my head to feel fuzzier than it was. I know at this moment that I need a glass of water. Instead of announcing that I’m headed over to the bar, I push off the table and slide through the mass of people. Leaning against the bar, I wave down the bartender who quickly approaches.

“What can I get the pretty lady this evening,” and all I can hear is Paxton’s voice in my head telling me to let loose.

“A water and twelve shots of tequila.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender says before turning away.

A light tap on my shoulder causes me to turn around to see who it is.

“Jace, what are you doing here?”

“Hanging with some friends, you?”

“Same. Want to join us?” I ask before thinking.

“Sure. Let me help you with these,” he says, taking the small tray from the bar top. He follows me over to my group, places the tray down, and explains he’ll be right back. It doesn’t take long before he returns with four of his buddies and for Paxton to slide me closer to his side. I blame the tequila for the laugh that escapes me. I turn and look at Paxton. “Are you guarding me?”

“Not at all, just keeping what’s mine close.”

I don’t respond… I laugh at his statement like he just told the best joke in the whole wide world…

It doesn’t take Brooke and Miranda long to make friends with the guys that Jace brought over. It also doesn’t take long for Jace to saddle up next to me.

He’s trying to make small talk, but I can’t focus on the words coming from his mouth. Why, you wonder? Well, it’s because Paxton is so close to me that it’s like he’s inside me. Not to mention, the feel of his hands on my bare skin is driving me insane. Just as they all announce they want to go to another club, I quickly turn to Paxton. “Take me home, I’m tired.”

“Oh, I’m going to take you home, and we’re going to talk about this.”

With my face scrunched up, I can’t fathom what the problem is. I did what Paxton said to do, and for some reason, there’s a slow ache that’s building down under from the way he said he’d take me home.