I order one for her and ask the bartender for a non-alcoholic one for myself. If she notices, she doesn’t point it out, which I’m glad for. I wasn’t an alcoholic, but I don’t like the feeling of being impaired anymore. The worst I’m comfortable with now is an over the counter sleeping pill or a cup of coffee. It’s nice that she doesn’t bring it up.
“You been down here before?”
I shake my head. “No, haven’t had much time to get out since I got back.”
“Me and some friends in high school broke in one night and played pool,” she says. “We were too scared to drink anything, which was good, because I’d probably be banned forever if I stole their shit.”
I lean on the bar, close to her but not close enough. “You were kinda wild in high school, huh?” I press.
She shrugs, smiling. “Not really. We dabbled, but Dad was pretty strict back then. He’s loosened up a lot since.”
“Seems pretty strict now.”
“Is he making you work for it?”
“Nah, we’re good,” I say, shrugging. “I like working for Andy. And I’m glad your mom is around for Freya. She’s been a big support for her.”
She nods, sobering. “My mom’s great, probably better than I deserve.”
“Doubt that. Freya needs it. She didn’t have a mother growing up.”
She turns in the seat, and one boot touches the side of my leg. “I heard a little bit about how things were back home.”
I’m not sure if I want to get into my past tonight. There must be something on my face that says that out loud, because she clears her throat, taking a drink of her beer and setting it aside.
“You want to dance with me?” she says.
I set my bottle down, holding out my hand. The band in the corner has just started on a slow dance with an upbeat undertone. I’ve never really danced much before, and my heart's thumping a steady drum in my ears, but I lead her into the crowd of swaying couples like I know what I’m doing. My hand falls on her waist, acutely aware of her warm skin beneath her dress. My other hand interlaces with hers, and she starts moving us gently.
“You’re real tall,” she says.
“Thanks, I think.”
“I mean, it’s a good thing. I like tall men. I just didn’t notice until you were right up on me.”
The corner of my mouth curls. “I’m right up on you?”
Her face flushes. “I mean, like, beside me.”
“I know what you meant.”
She rolls her eyes and, to my shock, moves in close and puts her cheek against my chest. My body is on fire as I slide my arm a little closer around her body. I’m so fucking glad the rusty romantic side of me is taking over right now, because if I get hard, she’s gonna feel every inch, and I don’t know if I can live that down right now.
“You feel good,” she whispers.
“So do you.”
We dance for a while without talking. The song ends and another begins, this one slow and a little haunting. It kind of reminds me of back home, of coal country, where we’ve got a few too many sad songs woven into the mountains. But tonight, with her in my arms, it doesn’t get me down. It’s more like looking back at the end of a long road and seeing how far I made it.
“You alright?” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” I say. “Are you?”
“Yeah. Your heart’s beating real slow.”
Gently, I touch her hair. It’s so soft, I barely feel it on my work-roughened fingers. I was nervous for tonight because I’m not much of a talker, and I know going on dates is all about conversation. But I like the way she’s just letting us be together, to feel the rhythm of my heart when my body is against hers. There’s something real intimate about it.
“When do you reckon we should head back?”
