What's better than sex? To Naomi, it's going out with friends for delicious food, winning softball games, and having a whirlwind romance with her close friend. The only problem: despite a decade of friendship, she has yet to come out to him as asexu...
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Tonight was the night everything would change. The sensation lingered like the overwhelming scents of floral perfume, strong cologne, cigarettes, and weed. Naomi's throat tingled with a cough in the hot basement of the historic bank-turned-club she longed to flee.
She focused on Greg and the dark stubble uncharacteristically lining his strong jaw. Her hands longed to caress it and feel the tantalizing tickle against her skin like she had earlier when his cheek had brushed hers as he whispered, "I'd be lost without you, Nomi."
Everything about that moment had screamed, "Close that gap." But in true Naomi fashion, she'd frozen like her tongue was stuck to a pole in the dead of winter. A curvy blonde had elbowed her away from the bar and Greg. But with another shot in her system, Naomi would override her romantic shyness and get her long-overdue dream man.
His stormy gray-green eyes scanned the crowd trapped between the limestone brick walls and low mirrored ceiling. None of it made this place seem any bigger, especially as yet another person knocked into her shoulder as they passed. Throngs of people gathered on the dance floor, pulsing to the top 40 music like dogs in heat.
Naomi fought the churning in her stomach to turn to her downturn-lipped friend and ask, "Do you want to dance?"
He released a single dry laugh as he steadied his swaying stance. "You hate dancing."
"More accurately, I hate dance floors. Dancing's okay." Or with Greg, it would be. She'd block out everyone else and focus on him.
Greg raised an eyebrow and leaned toward her, the scent of rum wafting off his breath. "At my brother's wedding, I asked you to dance, and you responded over my cold, dead, mutilated body."
She would have said that. But twenty-year-old Naomi had too much pride and naïve optimism to seize an opportunity. Five years later, she wouldn't let this one slip away. "None of your family is around to tease me."
He smiled, sending her heart racing. "No, but I am."
"You get a pass."
She hoped he'd have other ideas while dancing with her in this uncomfortable dress that refused to stay a decent length no matter how many times she tugged it down her thighs. Contrary to what her best friend, Shivanna, had speculated, it did not affect Greg, which both reassured and concerned her. While she wasn't comfortable sleeping with him so soon, she longed for romance to finally spark between them.
He stared at the dance floor and sighed. "I'm not in the mood."
He must have been thinking of his ex. At socials or pubs, Tara had jumped up and dragged Greg with her. Despite his protests, it had made him grin for most of the night. Naomi's shoulders slumped. Dancing with his reluctant, rhythmically challenged friend wouldn't compare to the woman he loved. No matter how much Naomi wished and had imagined that could be her one day.
