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“Is Ben an asshole?” I ask, remembering his friend, Ben, from earlier. He seemed kind of like an asshole but in a very charming way.
“My Ben? Like from my band?” He questions.
I nod my head.
“He is all right.” He pauses. “Why? Do you have a crush on him?”
I shake my head. “But, he was thrilled to hear we are just friends.”
“I bet he was.” He laughs. “You feel like dancing?” He nods to the dance floor, where people are dancing.
“Sure.”
He gets out of the booth, holding his hand out for me. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet, pulling me against him.
“God, you are beautiful.” He says, looking into my eyes.
“Who’s going to have to carry who back?” I laugh but can’t look away from his eyes.
“Another ten pounds, and I think you’ll be absolutely stunning.”
“What?” I’m stunned by his statement.
“A little more meat on your bones, and you’ll be absolutely stunning. Right now, you look almost breakable. Like a porcelain statue.” He moves a strand of hair from my face and softly strokes my cheek.
It’s the first time anyone ever said I’d look better with more meat on my bones. I’m used to the tabloids talking about me gaining weight and looking pregnant or when I’m too skinny, just talking about me having an eating disorder. No one says I’d look better if I weighed more.
“Shall we?” He says after a moment and pulls away from me.
I blink back tears and nod.
We danced through a few songs. Well, Wes stands still, just swaying to the beat of the music as I dance around him, jumping to the beat.
I glance around after a few songs and see people looking our way. I know they know who we are. They are bound to tell stories about us being here together, dancing together. We will be a couple in the headlines come morning. But none of that mattersright now. Right now, I’m enjoying myself for the first time in months.
He drags me to the bar after a while.
“A double of black label.” He says and looks at me.
“A double of vodka.” I retort.
“Dangerous game.” He says and pokes me on the nose.
The bartender pours both our drinks, and Wes pays him before he wanders away to attend to other people.
“To being young, dumb, and free.” Wes says over the music and lifts his glass.
“Yes.” I tap my glass against him, and we both throw back our drinks. “Another?” I ask. My words are heavy, and I know I’m dangerously close to being drunk.
He eyes me, his eyes glossy from the liquor.
“No.” He says with a laugh. “I should try to get you backnotan absolute wreck.”
“Chicken.” I tease, waving to the bartender. They see me and skip over the other patrons waiting to come over to me. “Another shot of vodka, please.”
Wes doesn’t add anything to the order but reaches into his pocket to pay. The bartender pours me a shot and takes Wes’s money before returning to the crowd of other people waiting.
I throw back my shot, and Wes laughs.
