His fingers pressed into her thighs and he smiled. “Told you,” he said, nipping her lip with his teeth. “I have the ability to make them good girls go bad.”
She giggled. Tyler Evans. The combination of personality traits one would not ordinarily associate together. Serious yet funny. Drama queen yet domineering. Weird yet so charming. Good guy yet a self-proclaimed bad-ass.
He slid out of the booth, took her hand and led her through the mass until they found Matt and Gemma. She smiled when she saw them and leaned down to Matt’s ear so he could hear her over the music.
“Were you two making out?” she shouted.
He shook his head with a naughty smile. “No!”
“That’s odd, because when you guys left the table, lipstick was on her lips and now it’s on yours.”
He laughed. “I like the color.”
Andy Grammer’sHoney, I’m goodcame blaring through the speakers and Gemma shrieked her excitement. “Less talking, more dancing,” she yelled.
The rest of the night pretty much went like this:
Hands clapping. Feet stomping. Line dancing with very limited coordination. So many strangers dancing in unison.
Neil threw his arms up. “How does everyone know this dance except me?”
Heads bobbing. Arms waving in the air. Cowboy boots sliding across the floor.
“More shots!” Gemma screamed.
Hips swaying. Skirts twirling. Faces turning red from heat and alcohol.
“Next round’s on me!” Matt hollered from the bar.
Gemma dancing on the table. Matthew fist pumping to the beat. Neil taking off his shirt and swinging it around in the air.
“Why is Neil stripping?” Tyler shouted as he spun her on the dance floor.
“Who cares?” she shouted back.
Dance moves became more creative, no longer fitting the music or the western theme. The twist melded with the mash potato.
“This dance is making me hungry,” Gemma slurred. “Freddy, we need some chicken wings over here!”
The choo-choo train incorporating a weird combination of arm flips and ass wiggling. It may have resembled the Macarena.
“Who the fuck drank my beer?” Jordan screamed.
Tyler laughed and spun her around again. “You did!”
More clapping. More stomping. More laughing. More ridiculous dancing.
Neil was shit-faced. Gemma and Matt were wasted and Jordan was more than a little tipsy. The person holding his liquor the best was Tyler, but he was by no means sober.
“Tequila!”
They swallowed the bitter liquid and slammed their glasses on the bar. Gemma grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to the dance floor. They each put a hand on one ear and jerked their elbows to the beat.
“Is that supposed to be the sprinkler?” Matt asked.
Tyler nodded. “The cutest sprinkler I’ve ever seen.”
The shuffle. Attempting the running man in skirts and cowboy boots. Taking selfies, documenting every stage of drunkenness.
