19

caleb

I can’t shake the feeling that his eyes are all over me.

Between the lights, the energy pulsating in the room, and the way the music booms throughout my body, I feel like I’m going to combust.

Either the drink is hitting me more than usual, or being here with Nathaniel is putting me on another level.

We’ve been walking around the club for what feels like an hour. Losing hope, it’s becoming clear that finding Sarah is going to be nearly impossible.

Are we missing her, or are we just not trying hard enough?

All I know is, after that phone call with my dad, something deep inside me is resisting the urge to keep looking.

I stop in my tracks and turn to speak directly into Nathaniel’s ear. “Dude, I don’t think she’s here,” I say loud enough to cut through the music. I place a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, though honestly, I wouldn’t mind if I bumped into him. Something about that backward hat he’s wearing tonight is driving me crazy.

I’ve got serious arm candy tonight. The number of people watching us is wild. Maybe it’s our height and how much we tower over the crowd—or maybe it’s just him. I’m betting on the latter.

“We should grab another drink and do another round,” he shouts to me.

“I like the way you think,” I answer, following him through the crowd. It's impossible not to sway to the beat with everyone else dancing around us. The energy in here is contagious.

We finally make it to the bar, and it’s like coming up for air. It’s scorching hot, and I’m wearing way less material than Nathaniel. I can only imagine how he feels in that long-sleeve shirt.

Maybe I should tell him to take it off…

“I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

I glance to the right and immediately recognize the guy from the stand earlier today—the one who gave us the pins. He’s got his oogly eyes all over Nathaniel.

I roll my eyes and refocus on ordering our drinks.

“Oh… right. Yeah. How’s it going?” Nathaniel stammers.

I bite my lip to stop from laughing. He has no idea how hot he is, and watching him get flustered when someone hits on him is pure entertainment.

“I’ve been here over an hour and haven’t seen anyone as good-looking as you,” he says in Nathaniels ear, loud enough for me to hear him.

Nathaniel’s face turns beet red, as he looks at me panicked. He clearly has no clue what to do or how to answer that.

The bartender hands me our drinks, and I pay. Nathaniel's too caught up to remember he offered to cover this round—but that’s okay. Like I told him, I like taking care of him.

I really like it.

Weird. That fact still surprises me.

“How about you come dance with me? Show me some of those moves,” the guy offers, doing a little shimmy. Is this guy for real?