Page 14 of Embracing the Beat
WEST: I can head home, pick you up?
That’s not me getting butterflies from reading the word “home” in his text messages. Nope. It’s another Michaela. But I don’t want him to think I can’t do anything on my own.
MICHAELA: That’s okay.
MICHAELA: I’ll find it.
WEST: You sure?
MICHAELA: Yep. 8:30. Roaring Revolution.
MICHAELA: See you then.
?? ?? ??
My Uber drops me off next to the all-night diner on 18th Street at eight twenty-five. An old weathered door is under a single old-fashioned lamp. This must be the place.
Rolling my shoulders back, I put on my confidence the same way I donned the rest of my clothes before I left the house. And finding an outfit had been a research project all on its own. Google didn’t give me much to work with since I don’t need a costume and can’t afford anything new. My closet is in a sad state—I didn’t leave much behind when I relocated to LA. But I managed to find a white floral mini-wrap dress hiding between the prom dresses in the back corner. It doesn’t scream 1920s, but it was nicer than a tank top and cut-off shorts.
The door opens as I reach for the handle, and a bouncer dressed all in black and wearing white suspenders stares at me.
“Can I help you?”
I clear my throat. “I’m…um…I’m looking for Roaring Revolution?”
Maybe this isn’t the right door.
Then why is he dressed like a mobster from the twenties?
“Password,” is all he says.
Password? West didn’t give me a password.
“I’m, um, meeting a friend here. He didn’t give me a password—”
“Velvet.” The word is breathed behind me, so close I shiver as West’s breath caresses the back of my neck.
I want to lean into the arm West wraps around my waist with a squeeze. Nerves jump in my belly at the innocent brush of his fingers.
No, not nerves. Butterflies.
Calm down, this isn’t a date.
“Sorry, forgot about the password,” he whispers.
“N-no problem,” I stutter, dragging my tongue across lips that suddenly feel like they’ve been baking in the sun all day.
The bouncer motions for us to walk past him, and West grabs my hand, yanking me toward a dark-stained wooden banister leading down. I’m so focused on watching the way his pants cup his ass, I nearly run into him when he stops and turns to face me, a grin stretching across his face and lighting up his eyes.
“Ready for this?” He’s like a kid on Christmas Eve, practically bouncing in place, and I can’t fight the laugh bubbling up at his expression.
“Excited?”
“To enjoy history while I have a drink? Absolutely.” He grins, his eyes traveling from the top of my head down to my wedge sandals, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “You look nice.”
The warmth of my body settles in my cheeks at the combination of his compliment and the fire banked in his eyes.
“Thanks. You do too.”
His white shirt is tucked into gray slacks, and the top few buttons are undone.
“Parent night. Sorry, but I ditched the tie in my car.”
“How could you?” I tease.
He laughs and reaches out to lace his fingers with mine. “Let’s have a drink.”
