Chapter 18: The Ride Over
The phone clattered onto the vanity, skittering next to a tube of lip gloss. Andi’s breath hitched, a sharp, stifled gasp as Matt’s hands tightened on her hips, his own rhythm faltering for just a second. The world, which had narrowed to the heat between them and the sight of her flushed face in the mirror, rushed back in with the tinny sound of Chloe’s voice still chirping from the speaker.
“Yeah… yeah, sounds amazing,” Andi managed, her voice strained as she pressed her palms flat against the cool wood of the dresser. “We’ll… we’ll definitely be there.”
Matt leaned forward, his mouth close to her ear, his breath a hot whisper. “Hang up.”
“Okay, cool! Can’t wait to see you guys!” Chloe’s voice was bright and oblivious. “Wear something you can dance in!”
“Will do. Bye, Chlo.” Andi’s finger stabbed at the screen, ending the call. The second the line went dead, a ragged moan tore from her throat, the sound she’d been holding back. The tension broke, and Matt drove into her, a deep, claiming thrust that made her knuckles turn white against the dresser. Her head fell forward, her hair a curtain around her face as the last waves of sensation crashed over her, leaving her trembling and spent.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing, slowly settling back into a normal rhythm. Matt rested his forehead between her shoulder blades, his hands smoothing over the bunched fabric of her short black skirt. He gently tugged her lace panties back into place, the intimate gesture sending a final, pleasant shiver through her.
“Well,” Andi panted, a slow, dazed smile spreading across her face as she caught his eye in the mirror. “That’s one way to get ready for a party.”
He straightened up, a smirk playing on his lips as he fastened his jeans. “Efficient.”
She turned, leaning back against the dresser, her body still humming. She reached for him, pulling him down for a kiss that was soft and lingering, a world away from the frantic energy of moments before. “You’re a terrible influence, Matthias Johnson. I was putting on mascara.”
“You look better like this,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “All flushed and disheveled.”
The Uber smelled faintly of pine air freshener and old vinyl. The city slid past the windows, a blur of neon signs and late-night traffic, the quiet hum of the engine a stark contrast to the pulse still echoing in Andi’s veins. She had her head on Matt’s shoulder, her fingers laced with his. The party felt like a destination they were hurtling toward, a separate reality waiting to swallow them.
“You good?” he asked, his voice low.
“Mmm. Just thinking.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “About cribs.”
He smiled, a private, quiet thing in the semi-darkness. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I like the idea of you building one. It’s… solid.”
The car turned a corner, the lights of the industrial Southside district coming into view. The warehouses loomed, massive and anonymous, but one of them had a pulsing beat you could feel through the car doors and a crowd spilling out onto the pavement.
The music hit them first, a physical force of bass that vibrated up through the concrete floor into their bones. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, cheap beer, and fog machine juice. Strobing lights cut through the hazy darkness, illuminating a sea of moving bodies, their faces flashing in and out of view.
“Told you,” Matt said into her ear, his hand a firm anchor on the small of her back as they pushed through the crowd. “Sticky floors.”
“And you were right!” Andi shouted back, her eyes already bright with the energy of the place. “But look at this!” She gestured at the vast, converted space, the laser lights cutting patterns in the fog high above. It was chaos, but it was a vibrant, living chaos.
They found Chloe and a few others from their circle near a makeshift bar constructed from plywood and cinder blocks. Chloe, all glitter and kinetic energy, engulfed Andi in a hug. “You made it! And you brought the strong, silent type!” She winked at Matt over Andi’s shoulder.
He gave a nod, a small smile playing on his lips as he accepted a beer from a guy he vaguely recognized from the graduation party. The music was too loud for real conversation, which suited him fine. He was content to stand with his back to the bar, one hand resting on Andi’s hip, and watch her. She was in her element, laughing, dancing in place, her head thrown back as she shouted something to Chloe.
He saw the way other men looked at her—the quick, appreciative glances at her legs in the short skirt, the way her body moved. A familiar, low-grade protectiveness stirred in him. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. It was more primal. A sense of possession, solidified by the memory of her breathless in his arms just an hour before.
Andi felt his gaze and turned, her smile softening when she saw his expression. She leaned into him, her mouth close to his ear. Her breath was warm. “Stop looking at me like you’re thinking about cribs in the middle of a rave.”
“I’m not thinking about cribs,” he said, his voice a low rumble that she felt more than heard.
“Then what?”
He didn’t answer with words. He just looked at her, his dark eyes intense and unblinking in the strobing light, and let his hand slide from her hip down to the curve of her thigh. The message was clear. He was thinking about the vanity. The phone call. The way she’d said his name.
Her playful expression melted into something hotter, more direct. The noise of the party faded into a dull roar around their little bubble. She pressed closer, her intention clear.
The moment shattered as a large, unsteady man stumbled backward, sloshing his drink and bumping hard into Andi. She lurched forward with a surprised yelp, saved from falling only by Matt’s quick reflex. He caught her, his body tensing as he turned toward the man.
“Hey, watch it,” Matt said, his voice cutting through the bass line, low and sharp as broken glass.
The man, his eyes glazed, held up his hands in a sloppy apology before turning back to his friends.
Andi straightened up, brushing at the damp spot on her arm. “I’m okay.”
He shakes his head, anger almost boiling over, as he looks her over. She seems to be okay but he suggests they move to another part of the party.
Matt’s jaw was still tight, his body coiled from the sudden intrusion. “Let’s get away from this mess,” he said, his voice low and close to her ear over the thumping bass. He kept a firm hand on her back, guiding her deeper into the crowd.
She nodded, her fingers lacing with his as she let him lead. The press of bodies was a welcome buffer now, a chaotic shield from the outside world. “Yeah, somewhere we can actually breathe.”
They pushed through a group of laughing strangers, the sticky floor tugging at their shoes. The air grew thicker, heavy with the scent of perfume and perspiration. Andi squeezed his hand, pulling him toward the epicenter of the sound where the dance floor pulsed like a living heart.
She stopped suddenly, turning to face him with a look that erased the last of his tension. “You know, you never did dance with me,” she said, a challenge in her eyes.
He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile finally breaking through. “You never asked.”
“I’m asking now.” Andi agreed, taking Matt to the dance floor and she starts to grind on him to the beat of the music.
The beat was a physical thing, a throbbing pulse that moved through the floor and up into their bones. Andi pressed back against him, her body a fluid answer to the rhythm, her head tilting back until it rested on his shoulder. His hands settled on her hips, his grip firm, anchoring them together in the swirling chaos.
“See?” she said, her voice a vibration against his chest. “You can move.”
“I’m following your lead,” he murmured into her hair, catching the scent of her shampoo beneath the sweat and fog machine. His thumbs traced small circles on the thin fabric of her dress. Every shift of her body was a reminder of the vanity, of the phone call, of the quiet promise in her eyes just moments ago.
The crowd pressed in, a tide of heat and sound. A stranger’s elbow jostled Matt’s arm, but he barely noticed. His world had condensed to the space where their bodies connected. He dipped his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “This is a terrible dance.”
She laughed, a bright, unguarded sound that cut through the music. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m not dancing,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’m just holding on.”
She turned in his arms then, facing him. The lights strobed across her face, illuminating the sweat on her temple, the dark intensity in her eyes. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders. “So hold on tighter.”
The song bled into another, the bass dropping into something deeper, slower, even as the tempo increased. They weren’t really dancing anymore, just swaying, a stationary island in a moving river. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. His fingers tightened on her waist.
“We could just…” she started, then hesitated, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.
“We could what?”
“Blow this off.” The words were a rush, almost lost in the synth crash. “Go back to your place. Right now.”
The proposition hung between them, simple and seismic. He looked at her—really looked—at the faint tremble in her hands on his shoulders, at the boldness in her eyes that was undercut by a sliver of nervousness. She was giving him an out, a chance to retreat from the complication they were speeding toward.
He didn’t want an out.
“Yeah,” he said, the single word feeling like a vow. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He just took her hand and started moving, cutting a path through the gyrating bodies with a newfound urgency. They didn’t stop to say goodbye to Chloe, didn’t look back. The cool night air hit them like a physical shock as they pushed through the heavy doors, the sudden silence ringing in their ears.
He fumbled for his phone, his thumb clumsy on the screen. “Five minutes,” he said, reading the ride-share estimate. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and looked at her, her chest rising and falling with their shared, rapid breath. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders against the chill.
She pulled the collar up around her face, her eyes never leaving his. “Five minutes is a long time.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He stepped into her space, backing her against the rough brick wall of the warehouse, away from the light and the stragglers by the door. “Then we’ll have to find a way to pass it.”
He caged her in, his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head. The distant city sounds—a siren, a barking dog—felt like they were from another planet. Here, there was only the sound of their breathing and the electric space between their bodies.
“Matt,” she whispered, her voice husky.
He lowered his head, stopping just before their lips met. “Yeah?”
Her answer was to close the distance herself, her kiss not soft or questioning, but full of the same desperate need that was coiling in his gut. It was all tongue and teeth and shared breath, a raw continuation of what had started on the dance floor, in his bathroom, maybe years ago.
A car horn blared, sharp and insistent. They broke apart, gasping. Their ride, a battered sedan, idled at the curb, its hazards blinking. Matt took her hand, his grip sure and final. “Time’s up.”
The Uber’s interior was a capsule of stale air and silence after the warehouse’s sonic assault. Matt barely had the door closed before Andi was on him, her mouth finding his in the dim, passing streetlight-illuminated backseat. The seatbelt warning chimed a weak protest, ignored.
“You two good?” the driver asked, his eyes a quick glance in the mirror.
“Perfect,” Matt managed, the word muffled against Andi’s skin as her fingers tangled in his hair. He felt her smile against his lips.
The car pulled away from the curb, joining the river of late-night traffic. The world outside was a smear of neon and shadow, utterly irrelevant. Andi shifted, straddling his lap in the confined space, her knees pressing into the worn upholstery. The jacket he’d given her slipped from her shoulders.
“This is a terrible idea,” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck, her hips making a slow, deliberate circle.
“The worst,” he agreed, his hands sliding up her thighs, finding the hem of her short dress. His thumb traced the lace edge of her panties, a callback to the vanity, and she shuddered.
A sudden brake light from the car ahead jolted them. The driver muttered something under his breath. They froze, a tangled statue of held breath and suspended motion, until the traffic flowed again.
“Five minutes,” she breathed, echoing his words from the curb, but now it felt like a taunt. Her eyes were dark pools in the intermittent light, full of a daring that made his chest tight.
He kissed her again, deeper this time, a conversation without words. It was all the confirmation he needed. The party, Chloe, the stumbling man—it all fell away, leaving only the pressing reality of her weight on him and the city rolling past like a forgotten dream.
The Uber finally slowed, turning onto his familiar, quieter street. They broke apart, their breathing ragged and loud in the sudden stillness. Matt fumbled for his wallet, thrust a bill at the driver. “Keep it.”
They tumbled out of the car onto the cracked pavement, hands already reaching for each other again. The humid night air clung to their skin. He guided her toward the building’s entrance, his arm a solid band around her waist, their footsteps a hurried syncopation in the quiet.
He fumbled with his keys at the outer door, his usual coordination gone. The metal clattered loudly against the lock.
“Need a hand there, Mr. Efficient?” Andi teased, her voice husky as she pressed against his back, her lips on his shoulder blade.
The lock finally gave. He pushed the door open, pulling her inside with him. The lobby was empty, the fluorescent light humming overhead. They didn’t wait for the elevator, turning instead toward the stairwell, a more direct path to his apartment, to the continuation of everything that had started hours ago on a rooftop under different stars.