The Pursuit of Felicity

Chapter 2

"Tell me about yourself," he insists with a bright gaze. He nibbles lightly at the edge of his cup and I want to ask if he's joking.

I gaze up at him in a state of pure shock. Tell him about me? What is there to say? I want to dance with him and then sleep with him. Isn't that all there is to care about? Am I not giving enough signs? "Like what?" I inquire as I search his face for some kind of hint.

"Your name, for one," he answers with a large grin lining his full lips.

"That doesn't really matter," I wave off dismissively. The less he knows about me, the better. He may be hot but all I want is a night with him.

"It does," he corrects me. When he sees me purse my lips, he chuckles. "My name is Cameron."

"You don't look like a Cameron," I note as I take in his attractive features once more. I contemplate skipping the dancing and talking and just heading back to his place. Hell, maybe my place if it comes down to it.

"What do I look like then?" he asks as he brings the red cup to his lips and takes a slow sip. I fight the urge to say 'my next conquest' when I lock eyes with him. It takes me a second to regain my voice after the intense stare down. He chuckles at my reaction and I shoot him a slightly threatening look. His laughter turns to him clearing his throat with a very delighted look on his face. I'm happy one of us is getting a kick out of this.

"I'm not sure," I answer him with a weak shrug. "Just not a Cameron." I'd rather be talking about, and doing, so many other things right now.

"So..." he encourages after a few seconds of us simply gazing at each other.

"So?" I reiterate in confusion.

"Tell me about yourself," he requests yet again as he makes a rolling motion with his free hand.

"Why?" I complain as I cross my arms. It's not like I'm ever going to talk to him again. We're going to dance and then go back to his place, where I'll sneak out of at about two in the morning. Then, if we ever see each other on campus, we'll pretend we have no idea who we are. In fact, we may not really remember. Or we'll force ourselves to forget.

"I want to get to know you," he elaborates as if it's an obvious answer. Obviously, every guy at this party wants to get to know the girls they're dancing with. They want to know their favorite colors and their grandmother's name. Except they don't. Why'd I have to choose the only guy here that cares enough to ask my name?

"Why?" I ask again, now growing frustrated.

"Why not?" he challenges with a small shrug.

I huff loudly. "Okay, so what do you want to know?" I repeat in a slightly flustered state. He's making things a lot harder than they have to be. You'd think a guy like him would be used to girls throwing themselves at him. With arms like his, you'd also think he knows how to catch.

"Your name, for one," he recites yet again.

"Something else," I wave off.

"Okay...then tell me why you won't tell me your name," he sidetracks, and I want to groan. Instead, I keep my cool and tilt my head.

"What do I look like?" I wonder and he decides to play along.

"Maybe a..." he starts as he analyzes my face. His eyes take in my dark brown tresses and my hazel eyes, which are scrutinizing him curiously. His gaze never falls below my face, which strikes me as odd. I kind of expected him to use this as an opportunity to blatantly check me out. "Jackie."

I shake my head and laugh. "No," I decline without a second thought.

"So what is it?" he redirects the conversation, and it's my turn to laugh.

"I'm not telling you," I announce once more, which gets a defeated sigh from him.

"So, Nameless, why'd you come over here?" he asks as he finishes off his drink and places the cup on the floor next to us.

I want to roll my eyes. Would it be too forward to tell him that he's hot and I want someone to spend the night with? I go for an answer that's a little less bold. "I'm going to be honest with you. I came here to dance with cute boys. But you're making that pretty difficult," I confess, bringing back my flirtatious style.

"There goes that word again," he playfully cringes. "Cute."

"You don't like it?" I query with a tilted head.

"I know I'm more than cute," he teases, which gets a chuckle from me. Boy, don't I know? Though flirting with him is fun, I didn't come here for that. I decide to stop beating around the bush and go in for the kill.

"Look, I know you didn't come all the way off campus to this party to talk," I theorize with my arms crossed tightly across my chest. He assesses me with a small grin on his face. "So come on and dance." When I see his indecisiveness, I pointedly extend my hand once more and he reaches out and slaps his palm into mine. Score.

I dance with him and on him for a longer time than I intend to. He's a much better dancer than he let on, which only makes him more attractive. The way he grips my hips only gets me more and more excited for what's to come later on tonight. Not to mention, he smells amazing. Every so often, I find myself smiling at him whenever I turn around to face him on the dance floor and he only rolls his eyes but continues to lead me. Once I'm convinced I can snag him, I slowly make my way back to our old spot against the wall and he is quick to follow.

"Where are you going after this?" I ask, prompting him to pop the question. At this point, I'd usually already be in a car on the way there.

"I have to be up for work at 7 in the morning so bed," he informs me with a knowing grin. I want to groan when I realize it's almost midnight. Thank you for wasting my time, I want to say. He seems to notice my irritation because his smile only widens. "Why?"

"I was just wondering," I respond with a shrug. How much more forward can I be without being shamed for my sexuality?

Before I can think of a reason to ditch him and find someone else to spend the night with, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I take it out and find texts from Genesis telling me that they're getting ready to leave. They want to know if I'm going back home or out. "Before you leave, I have a question," he proposes, which gains my attention again.

"Yes?" I ask, feeling slightly hopeful.

"What's your name?" he inquires yet again, which throws me off a bit. It takes me a second to fix my irritated facial expression. I was hoping he'd ask if I'd join him in his bed tonight. "I know you had fun with me. I think I've earned the right to know what to call you."

Letting my irritation and impatience get the best of me, I offer him a slightly bitter smile and shake my head. "Don't worry about it, pretty boy." Without another word, I turn in the direction of the front door, grumbling at the turnout of tonight.

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