“Perfect.”
“Do you know what you want to order?” she asks. “Because it might take me a minute to get back over here if you wait.”
“Sure, I’ll take a basket of chicken tenders with fries and the largest margarita you make with top shelf tequila please.”
“Any particular brand?”
“No, just nothing that will give me a headache in the morning.”
The server smiles. “No problem. I’ll go put in your order and bring you your drink.”
I stand up, walk over to the jukebox and smile to myself. They haven’t changed the music selection on this thing in years, if ever. Most people are watching the flat screen televisions hung high in strategic corners of the bar, but I want to listen to music, so I press the button for “I’ve Had The Time Of My Life” from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.
I sway my hips to the beginning of the song but become self-conscious as the song apparently increases in volume with each verse. A few people turn around to stare, probably wondering who the nerd is who’s chosen this corny old song, so I smile awkwardly but am relieved when they all seem to turn back to their respective conversations.
Everyone except for one very tall human being.
Extraordinarily tall.
He’s towering above everyone in the room at one of the high-top tables in a baseball cap pulled down low, jeans that fit his ass like a glove, and a nondescript midnight blue hoodie. Standing perched over a beer and a shot of some sort of clear liquor, I can’t see much of his face under the brim of his hat, but he’s staring right at me with a huge grin on his face.
I’m momentarily distracted by my gawker because of a flash of light from my cell phone. A text has just come in.
Troy: You ready to talk now?
Unbelievable.
Me: Never
Troy: Please, Adrienne.
I suck my teeth, annoyed that he has the audacity to text me after what he’s done. I guess my asshole fiancé’s actions are finally sinking in his pea-sized brain. Now that the dust has settled, I bet he’s realized exactly what he just destroyed between the two of us. I bet if I really wanted to, I could get him to do just about anything to get back into my good graces.
I’ve had the time of my life
No, I never felt this way before
Yes, I swear it’s the truth
And I owe it all to you
This part of the song reminds me of Patrick Swayze holding Baby ever so possessively in their famous dance scene, and suddenly I have an aha moment. I love that movie because not only does Patrick Swayze’s character desire Baby, but he respects her, and so the lesson I learned tonight is that there’s nothing sexier than respect. Something Troy is incapable of giving.
I can’t help but reread the asshole’s text message, imagining a variety of sarcastic responses I should send back. Maybe I should send him another one-liner or something intelligent but mean as hell, if that combination is even possible. I want him to be in agony. I want him in pain. I want him to feel exactly how I feel.
I type a few lame words into the chat box, pause, then tap the delete button. I type again, but end up doing the same thing. I can’t seem to think straight this sober.None of my texts are mean enough without sounding completely like a heartbroken sixteen-year-old girl.
I need alcohol.
Where’s the server with my drink?
“Is this seat taken?”
My head pops up at the resonant voice directing a question my way. It’s the same long-legged man who was staring at me a moment ago, but now he’s standing by my table and already headed for the chair in the corner before I can even respond.
I catch a glimpse of his entire face under the brim of his hat andwhoa. WhileTroy is attractive when he shaves and tries really hard, this man is ruggedly handsome in a very easy and understated way. Even under his sweats, I can see that his chest is broad and probably tapers down to a firm set of abs. His jaw is firm and chiseled and covered in a 5 o’clock shadow of facial hair, and his body language exudes swagger and confidence. Without even trying he has the rapt attention of half the women in the bar and I guarantee you he knows it. He probably revels in it.
“Sorry,” I say to stop him, “but yes, this seat’s taken.”
