Elle is standing near the entrance, holding a glass of champagne, talking to Mack, but she’s watching the door. I can tell by her how she tilts her head every few seconds.
She’s wearing a sleek black velvet jumpsuit, the only color is her heels, Wolves orange. Her hair is up, her jewelry are her traditional staples, her charm bracelets, her diamond studs and gold hoops, tying the look together is the necklace with my number I had gifted her before I left for California.
I walk toward her, and the noise of the room swirling around me. When she finally sees me her face lights up.
Handing her glass to Mack, who generously takes it, meets me halfway with a gentle, two-handed grip on my jacket lapels.
“You clean up nice,” she jokes, her voice low against the bass line.
“Well, it’s a special occasion.” I quip back. Planting a celebratory kiss on her soft lips.
I hold her hand up giving her a spin before leading her into the chaos of the victory party.
We’re at the bar enjoying a hard-earned drink when Elle’s smile transforms into an amused grin.
“Now, that’s an outfit worthy of Ty.” She muses.
I turn around to see my best friend in what I can only describe as high fashion. Ty has always been flashier than me, but this new look is a whole other level.
My best friend doesn’t walk into the venue, he floats, the crowd parting around him like smoke. He’s ditched the suit and opted to wear acharcoal gray leather aviator jacket with the most ridiculous orange shearling collar I have ever seen. It looks like something an action villain would wear to ski in. It’s loud, expensive, and utterly Ty. His crisp white shirt underneath though is the true canvas, setting a clean backdrop to a giant Wolves pendant. The pendant is gaudy in the most loving way. It’s encrusted with diamonds and surrounded by three thick chains.
Sadie glides next to him in an outfit that compliments Ty’s swagger. I peek over at Elle who looks like she’s about to cry seeing her best friend.
“She looks stunning.” Elle breathes. While Elle opted for the black velvet jumpsuit, Sadie stuns the crowd next to Ty in a shimmering gun-metal gray dress. I have to admit she looks phenomenal. Her dress perfectly complements Ty’s without competing with it.
We’re all seated on a plush bench. Elle and Sadie have wrangled Steph, who stunned the crowd by replacing her typical slacks for a little black dress, into taking pictures with them.
DJ and Mack saunter over, DJ’s massive arm wrapped around Mack’s slenderer frame. “I see I didn’t need to guard Elle’s previous glass all night.” Mack jokes sliding into the seat next to Cam. DJ, ever practical, is in a well-tailored suit that compliments Mack’s stylish three piece.
Ty waves a bartender over. “It’s toast time!” He signals the girls over.
Ty delivers a toast befitting of our victory tonight. “To our D: who held the line! Deej, Cam, you are thereason we won many games this season!” DJ, Mack, Cam and Steph all clink glasses. “And to you:” Ty says, facing me, his eyes locked on mine. “To Archer, our leader, the man who carried all the weight and still stood tall.”
Elle clinks her glass with mine, her eyes full of love.
He holds his glass up again. “To the wolf pack!”
“To the wolf pack!” We all bellow.
After our toasts, Ty slides up to me. “One last toast, just you and me.” He says, handing me a shot. “To my best friend, the man who conquered his ghosts and came out stronger than ever.” He holds my gaze. “I’m so proud of you man.” He clinks his shot glass with mine and we tip back the amber liquid. It’s smooth going down and warms my insides.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I say clapping him on the shoulder. Ty swallows back his emotions. Refusing to break the mood.
“Now! Enough of this mushy shit!” He yells. “Let’s party!”
The victory party is in full swing. The noise is deafening, but the initial frenzy of high-fives and congratulations has subsided into the steady rhythm of the dance floor.
I am standing with Elle near the edge of the crowd, the blurry lights of the party washing over her. I feel the buzz from the alcohol. It’s a light, pleasurable hum that dampens the acheof one too many hits.
I pull Elle away from the main throng of people, maneuvering us into a small pocket of space between a pillar and a massive speaker. The music shifts to a slower, heavy R&B track, forcing the pace down.
I turn to her, putting my hands on the sleek velvet of her jumpsuit, drawing her close. The air is warm and humid, and her scent, that lemon and vanilla mixture that smells like safety and home, cuts through the party atmosphere.
“They are playing our song, I think.”
Elle leans into me, her arms sliding around my neck. “They are playing a song.” She muses. We don’t really dance; we sway, until the beat picks up, drawing Elle and I back into the crowd. Her body is flushed against mine as the pulsing music directs our bodies in sync with the rhythm.
The room is louder now, and hotter. Or maybe I am just hot. The alcohol has stopped feeling fizzy and is now a dull, warm weight in my stomach. We dance until Elle complains her feet hurt.
