“As you shouldn’t.”
“Oh my God, there you are!” a woman yelled as she wrapped her arms around the woman I just kissed yet didn’t know her name. “Ciara! Don’t do that to me!”
Ciara.
That’s her name?
Beautiful. Just like her.
“I’m sorry! This guy nabbed me on the dance floor.” Ciara shot me a wink, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I asked him to take me home, but he said I’m too drunk!” Ciara whined and a pout crossed her lips.
The other woman looked at me and smiled. “I mean, he’s got a good point. C’mon, let’s get you home. Thanks for looking for her.”
“Byeeeeee!” Ciara slurred as she waved wildly at me from over her friend’s shoulder. She was too damn cute.Anddrunk.
“You’re welcome. Have a good night, ladies.”
As I watched them walk off, a huge part of me screamed to go after them. To find out more about her. To ask to see her again.
Anything.
But I didn’t move, afraid I was overstepping, afraid I was being too pushy, coming on too strong.
But I also knew not to mix work with pleasure.
So why did every part of me want to break all the rules and run after her?
A week passed,and I couldn’t stop thinking about Ciara.
I nailed together boards at work and framed a house, Ciara’s face on my mind. I drilled screws into drywall, putting up walls, Ciara’s face on my mind.
I cooked dinner, did laundry, and worked on my parents’ farmhouse, all with Ciara on my mind.
I worked three shifts at the club, one the following night after meeting her, and two more nights, with no signs of her, yet not once did she leave my mind.
Social media searches came up empty, especially without a last name, and between the city and the towns of Appleridge and Apple Falls, it would be hard to search blindly.
The following weekend rolled around, and I finished cooking dinner, now cleaning up before I left for my shift at the club. I scooped out two portions for my parents, wrapping their bowls in tin foil before placing them in the warm oven. I divided up the rest of the casserole into multiple portions, freezing half and refrigerating the rest.
My father watched TV in the living room, the local channel news in the background, as he worked on a word search book.
“Dinner’s in the oven, Pops.” I said as I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Mom’s still upstairs resting.”
“Thank you, my boy. You headed in to work now?” He placed his hand on top of mine.
“Yep. I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up.” I said like I always did, living for his chuckle that always followed behind.
“I know, I know. Have a good night.”
“You too, Pops. Kiss Mom for me.” I shot him a wink and headed out the door to my truck.
It was probably better off I hadn’t seen Ciara again. It’s not like I had time for a relationship. Between working my two jobs, helping my parents, and the endless task list here, I had no time. What happened that night was a fantasy. Nothing more. I’d chalk it up to that and move on.
Yet, deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
And a few hours later, when she strolled into the club somehow looking more beautiful than she did before, my heart leaped from my chest and landed splat on the floor in front of me.
She stood across from me, her on the other side of the dance floor, me next to the bar.
