I wanther again, slow and deep, until the sun rises.
She pulls back. “You alright there?”
“Yeah, you just look good,” I say, opening the truck and lifting her in. “You want to get a drink with me before we go home?”
I get in the truck. I’m close enough now to see her blush.
“Yeah,” she says, voice shaky. “I’d like that.”
My heart is pounding all the way to the little honky-tonk place on Main Street. There’s no way I’m showing up at Jack’s bar tonight.I want privacy after his attitude.She looks up at the lights,and I swervea bitoff the road staring at her. She gasps, hand clamping on my forearm. I right the truck and pull into the city parking lot.
“Sorry,” I say. “You just look so damn good.”
She rolls her eyes. I take her by the back of the neck and kiss her again. My nerve endings tingle. There’s a feeling of coming home with her that I haven’t felt in a long time. Or maybe I’ve never felt it beforetonight.
We break apart. Her eyes are huge.
“Let’s go dancing, baby,” I say.
She smiles, hesitantly. “You’re gonna dance with me?”
I nod, pushing open the door. “I can dance alright.”
“Alright,” she says. “Let’s get to it.”
We walk across the street and enter the bar. It’s pretty full, and there’s a band playing in the corner. I check my phone.It’s gettinglate. The music is slow and syrupy. The lights are low, and the space feels intimate. Keeping my arm around her waist, I guide her to the bar.
“What can I get you?” I ask, turning to her.
She studies the drinks, her nose wrinkling. “How about white wine?”
“So you’re not a beer drinker?”
“It’s alright, depends on the brand.” She shrugs, smiling. “I was trying to fit in.”
I laugh, leaning on the counter. “You don’t seem like the type to care.”
She leans in, sobering. We’re so close,I can count the freckles on her skin. Her lashes are soft like a dark feather. When she smiles, she has laughter lines on one side, but not the other. There’s a tiny overlap between her front teeth. The little details of her are what make her so familiar, I think, but I don’t know why.
She lifts her fingers, touching the indent on my cheek. I have one dimple,and I see her looking at it when I smile.
She’s noticing the little details too.
“You’re so pretty,” she says wistfully.
My brain goes in two directions at once. The first side makes me think of Miss Holly and her calling me pretty that day in her kitchen. How I felt kind of embarrassed, like I wanted to rub the back of my neck and look at the ground. The other side tells me it’s alright when Della says it.
The room melts away. There’s only her, looking at me with soft eyes.
She feels like grace, a break in the clouds.
Relief.
“Sorry, did I say that wrong?” she whispers.
“No,” I say, leaning in. “You couldn’t say anything wrong.”
I’m tripping, falling, sliding all the way down to the bottom of a place I can’t crawl out of. But this time, I don’t want to get out. No,I’m staying here all night,and in the morning, I’m asking her to stay with me for a while longer.
