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“Are you sure?” I ask, leaning close to her ear so she can hear me over the music. “Last time we drank together we ended up married.”
“All the more reason to do it again,” she says, eyes shifting to my lips.
She slips out of my grasp and walks in front of me, taking my hand to pull me with her through the crowd. Every so often she tosses a grin back at me over her shoulder, and I doubt she realizeshow weak it makes me. How scared I am that this is all a dream and it’s going to slide through my fingers when I wake up.
When we get to the bar, she flags down the bartender and orders us a round of shots in Spanish. It’s not perfect but the bartender nods and in perfect English tells her he’ll be right back with the drinks. I put my card on file for our tab, and a minute later, she’s counting us down before we toss back the tequila.
Nora grimaces with a smile and then slaps her hand down on the bar. She’s all freckled and tannish-pink. It’s a great look on her. The faint tan line running over her sunburnt shoulder from her bikini strap snags my eye and suddenly it’s all I can focus on. I want to use it like a path to take across her body.
There’s no use trying to hide my desire at this point. And when her eyes meet mine, I make it perfectly clear. “You look edible in this pink.”
“And you…must be drunk already.”
“Not even close.”
She studies me and the solemnness of her expression is at war with the party raging around us. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything. Always.”
Her expression turns mischievous. “What’s in your bedside table, Pender?”
Any question but that one.“Something important to me—but that’s all I want to say about it for now.”
She looks sad but doesn’t press me on it. “Fair enough. I’ll try another one, then.” We’re both sitting on barstools side by side, and she angles herself a little more toward me, our outer thighs pressing together.
“Why two years?” she asks. I don’t understand immediately what she’s referring to, so she continues, “You told me you didn’t startdating again until two years after we broke up. What changed at two years?”
I look out over the pulsing club and back to Nora. “You weren’t the only one who saw something you weren’t supposed to.”
Her brows knit together.
“I saw you in the airport.”
She looks like the floor is falling out from under her. “You did? Why didn’t you say something?”
“I was going to. But then I realized you were with someone.”
“Oh.”
I lay my hand over hers on the bar, tracing my thumb over each of her knuckles. Mainly to remind myself that she’s not at that airport with that random guy anymore. She’s here. With me. In whatever messy-beautiful situationship this is.
“I was about to catch a flight for a game, and I looked across the way and there you were.” I smile, remembering how it felt to look at her again after two years. The way my stomach clenched, and it was like light had burst through the room. “You were rolling a bright pink suitcase, wearing tennis shoes, black leggings, and a white hoodie that saidSesame Street is my happy place.Your hair was darker then, and you wore it in a ponytail. I remember you smiling over your shoulder, and even from twenty yards away you stopped my heart.”
Tension gathers between us, and she doesn’t ask to hear more. She already knows what’s coming. I didn’t realize it at the time but seeing her at the airport that day was just penance for her having to witness me kissing someone outside my apartment the week after we brokeup.
“Then a guy walked up and took your hand and you two went to your gate together.” I breathe in, bracing against the memory. “I stood there for way too long watching you leave with him until Icouldn’t see you anymore.” What I don’t tell her is that Nathan found me like that and said I looked like I’d seen a ghost. I didn’t bother telling him that I had. “You looked so happy with that guy, though…Ben or Liam, I’m assuming. I didn’t want to mess that up by saying hi. And similar to how you felt—seeing you with him helped me realize it was time to finally let you go too.”
Except I never really truly did.
Before I can say anything else, Nora grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me to her. She kisses me—and it’s desperate. She pours all of her feelings into this kiss. The low bass of the music thumps through us as we simultaneously deepen the kiss. Nora slides off her stool to stand between my legs, and my hands glide up her back, over her warm shoulder blades. She tilts her head and with this better angle, I sweep my tongue through her hot mouth, devouring the sweet, tequila-soaked desperation of it.
Someone bumps into me accidentally and it pulls me back to life. I’m making out with Nora in the middle of a club—and enjoying the hell out of it. When we peel apart, she looks up at me smiling, maybe a little embarrassed. I wish she wasn’t. Everything about her is perfect.
Nora pulls out of my arms and takes my hand, tugging me up from the bar. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Most men my size are embarrassed to dance. There’s nothing discreet about it. I don’t give a shit, though—I’ve always had fun making a fool out of myself on the dance floor, and it’s good to be out here again with her reminding me of that fortunate night when I met her at the party.
I can’t say I’ve really missed all the partying I used to do that much, but now, laughing and intermittently kissing Nora out here under the colored lights with music vibrating through my chest, I realize I need more of this in my life. I’ve closed myself off to fun andfocused too much on holding as tightly to my career as possible. But not tonight—tonight, Nora pulls me onto the dance floor and reminds me to live.
