The Sidewalk Incident

15. The Sushi Incident

I feel the brush of finger tips against the small of my back. I don't even have the need to turn around to register who this hand belongs to as it snakes around my waist, pulling my body towards his.

The whiff of cologne, an earthy, powdery tone, that I've become acclimatised to thanks to his car smelling like it, filters through my nose amidst the smell of alcohol and cigarettes in the club.

His hips move seductively against mine, while  my hands slip behind his neck and our bodies start moving along to the sultry smooth latin and hip hop beat.

The brush of his facial hair against my cheek sends shivers down my spine as our hands connect. I caught it briefly the other night, while we were PDA'ing at the bar in front of our colleagues: the boy's got moves.

I turn to face him, keeping my hand behind his neck, as our foreheads touch, eyes blazing and boring into the others as we resume our seductive dance. He pulls my body closer and his hand flutters from my lower back, onto my butt.

I can't help but smirk as I see the flash of desire spread across his face: the subtle nostril flare, the dilated pupils and the tug to his lip. Fuck those lips up close are all the more fluffy and inviting. I desperately want to taste them.

Hold on! Wait... What is going on? It's the weed, right? I'm high and hallucinating.

The dance becomes a tease, neither of us wanting to give away too much or too little. Lips only brushing against the others neck, cheek or shoulder, a subtle butt touch here or there, hands sampling the others hair.

We don't speak. Just move. Getting lost in the moment.

This went from zero to one eighty faster than I could say New York, New York. Has this been a culmination of built up frustrations by two seemingly incompatible people now forcibly thrust together by an unfortunate sidewalk incident and forced proximity?

The intensity is getting too much as I feel him grind against me, the hardness brushing against my lower back and I start contemplating whether we should get a room or a bathroom cubicle, my jest about the bathroom hookup looking like an overwhelming possibility.

"My my my, Dr. Li!" Grace squeaks and breaks us out of whatever trance this was fast becoming.

Thank fuck for Grace!!

"Grace!" He smiles his smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. God, it annoys me how good looking he is. And he just so happens to have a good sense of style too, wearing a black bomber and hoodie combo, loose fitting black jeans and white sneakers.

I need to leave New York! ASAP.

Grace returns the warm smile and since she's not a lover of personal space, she jumps into his arms and gives him the biggest of bear hugs.

"Glad you finally grew a pair and asked this one out," she laughs as she shoves my shoulder dramatically.

"It was more of a gentle persuasion," he confesses, wrapping his arm around my shoulders casually, planting a subtle kiss onto the side of my head.

"Sure." Grace smirks. "This was supposed to be a girls night out. And yet, here you are." She raises her eyebrows in dramatic succession.

"Pussywhipped!" She sneezes and we all laugh.

She doesn't look annoyed. If anything she appears highly entertained at my awkwardness.

"My sister is here. She's upstairs." James says.

"Oooh!! VIP??" Grace claps her hands and before I know what's happening, she instructs James to lead the way, which he does.

"I'm not ready to meet family." I loud-whisper to Grace.