Chapter 5

One Dance Two Mistakes

My heart is practically in my throat as I wait for Thomas to speak. The eye contact he's making has small beads of sweat rolling down my back, and I'm trying like crazy to keep it together but I'm failing.

My fight or flight instincts have me mentally searching for all of the exits in this bar, and yet I don't think I could move if I tried.

Finally, his eyes soften, and his mouth slowly parts as he's about to respond. "Yes, well normally I'd love to throw myself into my work, but since it hasn‘t quite begun yet whiskey will have to do." I feel a smile pulling at my lips and my chest relaxes.

Maybe I just overreacted.

"I assume you've got the curriculum all planned for next semester then? I‘m looking forward to it, Professor." The word professor rolls off of my tongue and tastes foreign to me. He's Thomas to me. My Thomas, but he doesn't know that.

"So you're taking one of my classes again this semester? I‘m very..." Thomas pauses mid-sentence at about the moment his eyes leave mine, traveling downwards. I can see it was involuntary, and he is rendered just as shocked as I am.

"Pleased to hear that." He finally iinishes and I'm one more provocative gesture away from needing a new pair of panties.

He's eyeing my body up and down. Suddenly this dress feels even tighter.

I see something oddly animalistic spring to life in his eyes and shivers erupt throughout my body. He's never looked at me this way before, but in his defense, he's never seen me quite so exposed.

I try to recover, aiding the conversation along as best as I can. "I would never miss an opportunity to learn from you Professor, you just make everything so much easier to understand than say, Professor Galahad or Marsh." At my words, a big genuine smile appears on Thomas's face. He's so beautiful it hurts.

"Your words mean a lot to me but please, Sophia. At least until Monday, call me Thomas." He looks up at me once more with glossy eyes, and I can't help but think for a moment that one drink doesn't do that to a person. No, he was drinking before he got here.

What's gotten into you, Thomas?

My face involuntarily scrunches up a little as I look on at my dear professor with pained curiosity. "Sorry if I'm overstepping my bounds, but whats got you drinking whiskey alone in a bar on a Friday night... Thomas?"

Just saying his actual name sounds so intimate, but I try not to let my mind wander too far down that path.

Thomas seems to take a moment to think over his response, but eventually, he just shrugs, obviously hack peddling what he was originally going to say. "I suppose I've just got no one to drink with." He offers up as an excuse.

I know he doesn't want to actually tell me, why would he? I'm just a student. Maybe later he will be willing to consider in LiteraryLane21, but I can‘t wait till then to know he's going to be okay.

I desperately try to think of something to lighten the mood. I have no experience here, but Fiona does. I quickly racked my brain for what Fiona would do, and then it hits me.

"This is my favorite song." I blurt out, drawing Toms gaze back to me instead of his glass.

"What was that?" He asks, confused by my outburst.

"This is my favorite song, and you seem to be free so," I pause to lock my eyes with his "dance with me. Please?"

The amount of courage that sentence took will probably render me bedridden for the next two days, but it was worth it. I offer my hand out to Thomas and after a brief hesitation, I feel a ravenous heat ignite from my palm and spread to every inch of my body.

He grabbed my hand and now he's on his feet, towering over me. I can see the struggle on his face. He knows he shouldn't, hell I know know that he shouldn't. This has bad idea written all over it, but that doesn‘t seem to be enough to stop either of us.

"I suppose one dance couldn't hurt," Thomas says in an attempt to convince himself that it's true.

I start pulling him away from the bar and towards the open area where many other couples have already taken to contorting each other to the music. On my way to the dance floor, I pass by Fiona who looks like she just saw a ghost. She looks between Thomas and I clasped hands and my face in a quick double take. She mouths oh my god! And I have to bite my lips shut to keep from screeching like a deranged person.

I know right?!

I may internally scream, but on the outside, I'm as calm as can be.

I should get a freaking Oscar for this.

I weave us around couples that seem to be taking up more room than they really need and stop once I find an open area. I turn and face my dance partner who's already looking down on me with a look of nervous anticipation.

My right hand slowly rises and comes to rest on his chest, and I can swear I feel both of our breathng hitch at the same time. Thomas places his right hand on my hip and squeezes firmly, his touch a welcome burn against my body. The feeling of his strong fingers encasing my side makes me want to fall to pieces right here.

I can't believe this is happening. Is this a dream? Did I black out from being drunk, and this is just a lovely but cruel fantasy? Am I actually dancing with a mop right now?

I'm quickly pulled out of my paranoia by Thomas who has used his grip on my side to pull us so close a sheet of paper couldn't slip in between. His left hand has me by the back of my neck snugly and his head is resting on my shoulder.

"Calm down, Sophia, it's just a dance," He whisperers against my ear, and I feel my hand on his shirt spring shut, grabbing a handful of the white fabric. My other hand slowly comes up and grasps his waist just above his belt. If he didn't have such a tight hold on me I'd crumble to the floor.

I try to take deep breaths to calm my sporadic heart rate, but it's no use.

I've waited so long to feel his hard body against mine, and now that it's happening I'm in sensory overload. I'm drowning in his presence, but oh please don't let anyone rescue me.

Just a few seconds later I feel our hips swaying in perfect unison to the melodic beat that fills the drafty bar air. Thomas pulls me back slightly to peer down at me, our eyes instantly locking. His are pleading for something that I can't quite understand, but I stare back relentlessly, trying to read them.

Our gaze only stops when he takes a moment to slowly spin me, his hand coming to rest back on my hip only lower this time.

He's in ass territory now.

Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I have to stifle a breath of surprise as his hand slowly drifts lower, all the while he's staring a path through my soul.

I can faintly hear the song coming to an end over the sound of blood thumping in my ears, however, I'm completely oblivious to the fact that we've stopped moving and are now just as frozen as statues.

Seconds or hours pass by in complete rictus until like someone slowly Winding up an old toy car, Thomas starts leaning in.

Usually, red lights would be flashing in my head, and I'd be putting on the brakes but through rose tinted glasses the lights look like stars, and I'm about to make a wish on the brightest one.

My high heel clad feet move on their own as I roll up onto my toes to meet Thomas in the middle. His lips linger so close to mine that I can smell the savory liquor on his lips.

He jolts back an inch or so as though he's not quite sure but recovers the distance quickly, his strong fingers becoming lost in my long wispy hair.

Thomas squeezes both hands tight, my ass now trapped snugly between his tingers, and my hair tugging me slightly backward.

He licks his lips and lets our eyes speak to each other before using his possessive grasp to suddenly slam our lips together.

I practically moan against the feeling of his lips against mine, and I quiver as electricity courses through my bones.

Thomas groans from deep within his throat as his tongue parts my lips. I'm holding onto his shirt for dear life, hoping he never let's go.

The feeling between my thighs is complete nirvana, and I'm about to scream take me right here, but before my erotic fantasy is realized Thomas pushes us apart so hard that I almost lose my balance.

"Fuck me, what have I done?" Thomas cries as he runs two nervous hands through his hair. I feel like I've just gone skydiving and my parachute didn't open before I splattered on the ground. He sees the look of a shock and horror on my face and starts back peddling.

"No no, it's not you!" He defends "lord knows it isn't you Sophia, but not only is this illegal but I'm also seeing someone." Thomas's face screws up slightly "well more like I'm talking to someone but still, I'm so sorry this was a mistake."

I watch in complete bewilderment as Thomas rushes to the bar to pay his tab then shoots me one fleeting glance before he runs out of the building entirely.

Fiona, who has been watching the Whole thing unravel, is now sprinting over to me in her three-inch leather heels.

"Holy shit, Sophia what was that?! Who are you!? What have you done to my nervous little librarian?!" Shes practically out of breath by the time she's done screaming.

"It doesn't matter," I say bitterly, and Fiona's face falls.

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"I mean he regrets it that's what. And you know what's even more messed up? He thinks he just cheated on me."

"Wait, why?" She thinks for a few moments before realization strikes. "Ohh honey wow. Let's get you home." Fiona offers as a quick solution.

Yeah, let's.

***

Fiona is passed out on my couch with a Dorito hanging halfway out of her mouth. I check to make sure she's completely asleep before sneaking over to her bag and pulling my computer out. I tap on the keys as quietly as I can to bring up bookishespcapes.com.

Instantly, a half a dozen messages or so pop into view.

IchabodTom

8:30: Good evening, sweetheart how are you?

8:50: Is everything okay? You don't usually miss our talking times.

9:20: I really don't want to seem like an overbearing jerk so I'll say goodnight, darling. I hope all is well.

10:00: I've been thinking about somethings. I really wish we could talk.

I roll my eyes at the screen, still a bit sore from our encounter at the bar. There's the proof he had been drinking way before I ran into him. No self-respecting literature teacher would make so many errors.

IchabodTom

10:15: I think I need some air. :

12:32: We need to talk...

Suddenly my heart screeches to a halt. How is it even though I already know what Thomas wants to talk about that sentence still scares the hell out of me?

I look over at my clock and notice that it's almost two in the morning. I don't know if he's even still awake, but I type my message anyways.

LiteraryLane21

I'm so sorry, my friend dragged me out tonight. I wanted to tell you first, but she insisted I take a break from my computer. What did you want to talk about?

Part of me really wanted Thomas to be asleep, but it doesn't seem I will be so lucky tonight.

IchabodTom

You don't have to apologize to me. You have every right to live your life outside of this website. I'm happy you were able to have some fun. What I really need to say is honestly, Lane. I don't know what we are. I know that I'm obsessed with talking to you and that there's no one in this world who I want to meet more, but other than that I don't know what to call this relationship. That being said, I went out tonight myself and had a bit too much to drink. I kissed someone. Someone I had absolutely no business kissing for many reasons, but I'm so sorry. I know this isn't a typical relationship, but I wanted you to know because I feel guilty. I'm sorry.

I sit and ponder Thomas's long message for several minutes, practically biting off all of my fingernails. If he claims to like me so much how could he kiss me? Not that we're dating so what does it matter if he kissed me? At least he told me that he kissed me instead of hiding it from me...

My head starts hurting something fierce, and I rub my temples in anguish.

Oh for heaven's sake, what the hell am I even talking about?!

I press my fingers to the keys and quickly type out my response.

LiteraryLane21

Thomas, you don't owe me any explanation. We're not technically together, and what really matters is that you felt guilty and you told me about it. Don't beat yourself up over this. It doesn't change anything between us.

Send. He responds almost instantly.

IchabodTom

I promise you on my life, Lane. I will never keep anything from you, and I will never lie to you.

My eyes stare blankly at my screen for some time before I softly whisper out loud to myself.

"I believe you."

***