I unlock it and hand it to her, curious as to what she’s going to do, and she eagerly keys something in. A few seconds later, I hear the beginning ofTribute, and she holds up her phone. “We both have Tenacious D ringtones!”
The wicked, wonderfully broad smile she gives me makes me keenly aware that my hormone replacement treatmentsworked. Boy, did they bloody well work. I can feel my cock start to twitch, and my breath quickens.Arousal. Alien and heady and as intoxicating as the beer she’s been drinking. Thank goodness my state won’t be obvious.Tributecontinues to play, until she seems to remember she’s still calling herself with my phone, and she shuts it off. “I tell you what else we have, too,” she murmurs, wandering closer to me.
“Yeah?” I ask, my tone accidentally matching hers.
“We both have each other’s numbers now.” She’s drawn close enough that I can feel the warmth from her body shimmering over mine, and I can feel her breath tickling my chin as she looks up at me. We’re in a crowd of our colleagues, surrounded by fairy lights and lanterns, and an old Jennifer Lopez song playing on the sound system, and I’m in heaven because I never envisioned having a connection like this with someone, and I’m in hell becauseI don’t know what I’m doing. This is so far out of my wheelhouse. And even if it wasn’t, I’ve got practically nothing to offer her.
In any sense.
But I let myself enjoy the moment. “I guess we do,” I say, at a loss as to what to say. Shouldn’t continue down this path with her. But can’tnot.
“One, two, three, UH!” Out of nowhere,Hey Yaby Outkast starts playing loudly, and the dance floor floods with people clapping along.
“Awesome! Come with me,” Faith says, grabbing my hand and locking her fingers with mine. Just like if I was her boyfriend. For one awful moment I think she’s going to lead me to the dancefloor, which will mean I need to think of an excuse fast because I have two left feet. Instead, she guides us both back to the drinks table, where she quickly opens two bottles of Kopparberg with a bottle opener and hands one to me. “Right, now, Drinking game, so you can catch up with the rest of us, Mister Latey Laterson.”
“OK, what’s the game?”
“Whenever you hear ‘Hey Ya’, take a drink.” She clinks her bottle against mine. “Good luck, handsome.”
“Whoah,” I chuckle, “That’s—I mean, thewhole songis—”
“Nope.” She wags her finger from side to side in thenaughty naughtygesture. “None of that. Just go for it.”
Holy shit, I’m about to get loaded. I don’t drink much, because of my fucked up genes, so I’m a lightweight, and drinking this fast is going to get me there quicker.
You know what? Fuck it. I’ve missed out on so much, and this is making me happy.
Faith
Honestly and seriously, I don’t think Damon could get any yummier even if I slathered him with chocolate fudge brownie ice cream.
The firsthey yaplays, and we take a sip with every single one, maintaining eye contact the entire time, even when we start giggling after we open our second bottles, even when we can’t swallow for laughing. His laugh is delicious, husky and rough, and he’s a world away from the Clark Kent unassuming office persona we’ve all seen until now. Superman is here.
Or Wonderboy.
And just like that, a fantastic idea hits me. It’s so wonderful that I squawk…except my mouth is full of beer and I struggle to gulp it down instead of spluttering it all over the place. “Hold my beer,” I gasp, and then see it’s almost empty. “Actually, don’t bother—” I hear a glassy thud behind me as I totter away, having to concentrate a little more on putting one foot in front of the other. The world is a little spinnier than it was earlier. But it’s all good. I head to the DJ deck, and he’s not at all my type, but my superhero is, and this one’s just for him.
Fortunately the DJ has what I need, and he agrees to play it next, giving me a nod of approval, because duh, it’s Tenacious D.
I strut back to Damon, triumphant, until I nearly trip over my own foot when I’m within arm’s reach of him. He holds an arm out, but unfortunately, I manage to right myself without assistance, so then it’s too late to take the opportunity to fall into his arms. Balls. Maybe next time. Though if I keep tripping, he’ll think I have some kind of balance problem, or an inner ear infection.
“You OK?” he asks. His eyes are a bit brighter and sparklier than they were when he first got here. He looks…happy. It suits him. And I resolve to keep him that way for as long as possible, becausedamn…
“Yup, I just spoke to my lovely friend Mister DJ,” I say, giggling as I catch my breath, “and this next song is for you.”
Right on cue,Hey Yaends, and a guitar riff begins, soon supported by a string quartet and mighty drumming. His eyes light up even further.
“This isn’t…?”
I nod and grab his wrist, pulling him to the dance floor. Jack Black sings about the mucky muck asWonderboybegins, and Damon throws his head back and laughs.
I pull his wrist until his hand is resting on my hip, and his fingers tighten briefly, like a claiming.Mine.His grip loosens quickly, but it feels like his fingertips have branded me for life.
I’m so drunk I’m getting poetic.
I put my arms around his neck, but to make damn sure we’re definitelynotslow dancing, I do comedic side to side swaying and bending while yelling out the lyrics. He watches me, but then, little by little, he joins in around the time the song turns to murdering yaks with mind bullets, really giving it a burst of power.
He’s so effing bloody cute.
