“OK, now Iknowsomething is on your mind, but I won’t pry anymore,” Lollie announces while she reads my face intently, then gives me a quick peck on the cheek.
I smile, grab the shot glass in front of me and down it. Is that number four? Trouble will brew at this bar if Lollie buys any more. She can drink like a fish, while I drink more like a manatee floating to the bottom of a dark void with every shot I put in my body.
I focus on Ashton. He follows us on most of our outings,playing the distant bodyguard in case any of us get any unwanted attention. His good-hearted nature is infectious, so I never mind when he tags along. Most people find his bright glow a beacon for positivity, which is why he’s currently surrounded by his own group of friends at the table across the bar with a drink in his large hand.
His positive attitude was nonexistent when he heard of my inheritance. I found him quick to tell me all the ways Louisiana is a terribly unsafe place to live. He is just worried, I know, but the seed of distrust he has of the place took root deeply.
Ashton throws a wink at us from across the room, and Lollie can barely hold her disdain as her eyes flip up to the ceiling and then back to me.
“Why is he always here?” Lollie gripes, annoyed, and for good reason. Lollie and Ashton have a history. The on and off type of history, and right now they areveryoff. I chuckle under my breath as they stare at each other with a look that seems it could open a wound.
Seeming to be in the middle of this standoff, I take the next best course of action. I grab Lollie’s hand and pull her toward the dance floor.Maggie Mayis playing on the jukebox. A favorite of both of ours. It’s the perfect song to forget to, and that is what I hope to do.
I let the music soothe me into a trance-like state while Lollie dances with her arms above her head, wearing the biggest grin on her face. My feet move of their own accord, stumbling every once in a while. A sure way to tell I’ve had one too many drinks, but I’m not worried about that now.
We dance for what seems like an hour. The sparkle of the disco ball lands in iridescent orbs on my face. I lift my face so the orbs are all I see, each speck looking like a moonflower I’ve seen somewhere in my past. The tequila is doing its job of loosening my muscles and my inhibitions. My thick hair falls down, just skimming my shoulders, and I’m aware of a shadow of a palm on the small of my back.
Slightly startled, I spin around to shove whoever it is away. My hands meeting mist from a man’s form, smelling of flowers that openunder the watch of the stars. And then, no one. My stomach relaxes as I realize it was just another hallucination of a moment that never was.
Recognizing I’m maybe in need of a break. I turn to Lollie, my mouth forming words to let her know I’m going to get some fresh air. She is consumed with the beautiful olive-skinned man next to her. Her arms linked around his neck as they sway to the music.
She moves through flattery as if it’s a language she herself invented. I’ve never learned that way of speaking. It breeds more complications than it’s worth. She gives me a quick wink of her eye, and mouths back that she’ll be right behind me. I laugh, because she looks anything but.
I stumble across the old, whiskey-stained carpet of the bar toward the main entrance to the street outside. The question of why a bar owner would pick carpet as its flooring of choice flows through my mind. I can always count on these deep, philosophical thoughts when liquor is involved.
I pass Ashton, who is shamelessly staring at Lollie, while pretending to listen to a pretty brunette sitting on his lap. My platform boots do nothing for my balance, and I all but fall out toward the entry. I just barely catch myself on the deep-colored doorframe, my palms thankful for the support. The thick wooden door takes a bit of effort to open, but I finally let the warm midsummer night air envelop me as I make my exit.
There isn’t a soul outside, which is odd for a Saturday night. I feel a little uneasy, but reach inside my purse for the one thing I need most when booze swirls through me. My fingers find the small pack of cloves at the bottom, and I instinctively fish one out. Shuffling through my purse again, I exhale in irritation at forgetting my lighter and lean up against the building in a defeat of my own doing.
I close my kohl-rimmed eyes, the unlit clove still hanging lazily between my fingers, and let my thoughts drift a bit,sobering me up. What the hell am I going to do with a house a thousand miles away from here? I can’t possibly wrap my head around what my future now holds. I take a deep breath with my eyes still not wanting to open. The smell of white midnight blossoms and smoky whiskey fills my senses.
“Don’t you look wildly out of place here,” a smooth voice rattles me out of my head. My eyes open to light acorn brown ones with a remarkable ring of silver around the iris, and messy moonlight blond hair attached to a very well dressed male in a dark blue fitted suit. Well, hewouldbe well dressed, but his tie is skewed to the side and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. There is but one thing a suit in this city usually means: a night at the overpriced hotel and a story that never makes it past the city sign.
He holds out a match, which I realize is meant for me. I quickly light my cigarette and thank him. Not putting it to my lips right away and letting the smoke linger up, as I take a deep inhale through my nostrils. The aromatic smell is what I really buy them for, anyway. The semi clean shaven man glances sideways at me like he is realizing this secret truth.
High above, his hand presses on the wall. His acorn eyes slowly look me up and down, which must have made a crimson blush crawl up my neck and appear on my cheeks. He is looking at me like a rose in bloom needing to be plucked. His pouty bottom lip and thick sharp eyebrows are a strong contrast to his almost white blond hair. It’s clear to anyone with eyes that his allure in this moment is undeniable, and I have a feeling he knows it.
He smirks a lopsided grin at me, studying my face to the point I think I may need to turn away. On any other day, I might indulge myself and take this further. He is just my type, and I will not deny how the streetlight hits the angles on his face in just the right way, leaving an almost shimmer along his jawline. He’s too pretty for his own good, a problem I’m seeing clear as the cloudless night sky. And that grin—crooked and smug and nothing I can move my eyes awayfrom—hooks me harder than I want to admit, making me wonder how he might use it against my skin.
But today has already been a lot for my mind to sort through. The events have brought my anxiety to its highest peak. I know I won’t be taking this anywhere tonight, but I linger longer on his lips for the sake of looking. Three heartbeats pass, and I finally find my boldness to address him.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I need to find my friend. Thank you for the light and the very unsettling stare-down.” I announce. Being that his arm is still braced against the wall, I have to squeeze in between it and him. He doesn’t show any sign of adjusting to let me by.
As I shimmy my way through, I keep my eyes pinned to his, biting my lip on instinct. He flicks his gaze from my eyes to my mouth and then back up. His pupils now growing to the size of acorns.
There is hunger in his stare, and it scares me. I’ve seen this look from the men Lollie unintentionally seduces, although she never reciprocates it. It’s an animalistic look that must link back to a time when primal urges were all we were. It’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone, and he seems like the best candidate in this situation—in any situation for that matter.
Our gazes don’t waver. He licks his lips, and for a moment I almost lean forward. My hands brace the brick wall of the bar behind me. The moon-colored rings around his irises shimmer. It’s a bewitching reaction, and it does the trick to pull me out of whatever is happening between me and this stranger. I manage to get my wits about me and put some space between us.
“What’s your name?” I ask. He brushes his knuckle to his nose, then flashes a smile that is full of secrecy, his eyes darting to the bar door. My eyes follow.
“What the hell are you doing out here, Jade? You’ve been gone forever.” Lollie asks and grabs my tense hand with her relaxed one.
“I thought you were following me out, and so I was justtalking to…” I look around, but there is no one. The man had just been right in front of me. A frustrated sigh escapes my mouth, realizing what has just happened. One of my overly imaginative daydreams—again.
I've been cursed with them since childhood. Most I can brush off, but some, like the one that just occurred, set me back quite a bit, and I have a hard time regrouping myself after. Never has one involved an actual face, though. A face that seemed to look right into my darkest desires and blur the lines of reality and dreams.
Most would think he ducked into the bar when they weren’t looking, but I know it wasn’t reality. A man has never shown me so much as an ounce of interest, not because of the way I look, but because of my fuck-off demeanor. Except, I have now found myself questioning that mindset twice today.
