What? Why?
Why not? It’s Saturday, and I don’t want to sit alone in my hotel room all night. Are you in?
I think about turning him down. This is a terrible idea—anyone could see us out, recognize my face, and report back to Dave. It’s risky enough to sneak out and see Riot for guitar lessons, but it’s another matter entirely to gooutwith him in public.
But then the other part of me—the hopeful one—wants to live, to be free. I remind myself that Dave is gone, and the chance of him finding out is slim to none as long as we go somewhere low-key.
Plus… who knows when I’ll get this opportunity again? The chance to feel young and alive?
Okay. I’m in.
Perfect. I’ll pick you up at 9.
Actually, I’ll meet you there.
You sure I can’t snag you?
Positive. It’ll be good for me to get some fresh air.
Whatever you say ;) You know the Coral Keg?
I do! I’ll see you there at 9!
See you tonight, sweet Eloise.
I stand on the cracked sidewalk outside of the Coral Keg, my phone clutched tightly in my palm and my heart racing in tune with the bass pounding from the speakers inside the dive bar. There’s a slight breeze out tonight, but it does little to cut through the humidity or to slick away the layer of sweat that’s covered my body in the thirty minutes it took to bike here.
I stare at my blank phone screen, then toward the neon signs hanging in the window, advertising Saturday Night Karaoke.I sure hope that’s not what Riot has planned for us tonight…
Just as I’m about to send him another text asking where he is, an arm drapes itself across my shoulders, and my knees buckle beneath the sudden added weight.
“Whoa. I got you. You’re alright.” The deep, rumbling voice pours into the air as a second arm wraps around my middle, working with the other to hold me aloft. There’s the smell of tobacco, plus something warm and earthy layered on top, and I instinctually lean into the embrace, breathing deep.
“Riot,” I whisper, tilting my chin up to meet his golden stare. Against the night sky, his eyes are even more intense than normal, moving over my face carefully as if searching for a sign of injury.
“What happened? You kind of just dropped on me there.” Still, he searches my face, reaching up to cup my cheek while the other stays wrapped around my waist. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I breathe. “More than fine. I just wasn’t expecting it, is all. Got caught off balance.”
He brushes his thumb lightly over my cheek. “I’m glad I was here to catch you, then. Even if I was the one who caused it.” He lets his hands drop back to his sides, but doesn’t step away. “You ready to go in?”
I nod, taking my lip between my teeth as Riot grabs my hand, tugging me toward the entrance. We push through a set of swinging wood doors—much like that of an old-timey saloon—and into a room filled with enough stimuli to make my head swim. There’s neon lighting dotted sparsely around the space, burning my eyes from the intensity while leaving the rest of the room impossibly dark. Music pounds from the speakers set up on a small wooden stage, struggling to rise above the sounds of the crowd and the drunken man in a cowboy hat screaming into the mic.
Karaoke night indeed.
I follow Riot up to the bar, my head swiveling back and forth as my senses are assaulted with a myriad of new sounds, sights, and smells. I’ve attended several upscale mixers and after-show cocktail hours in my lifetime, but those events werenothinglikethis. There was no life, no variety—just fake smiles, meaningless small talk, and the overarching need to prove you’re better than the suit or dress standing next to you.
Not here. Here, with Riot, I can be as I am. I don’t even have to worry about someone spotting me. Everyone is too busy with their own lives to care about me.I love it.
“What’s your drink?”
I flick my gaze to Riot, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. “I’m sorry, what?”
“What do you usually order?” he reiterates, a smirk tugging at his pierced mouth. “Or do you want me to pick something?”
“You can pick. Please.”
“Dark or light?”
