The thought is a tempting one, but the knot in my chest pulls tighter. “We can’t. If she does find out, I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me. I just can’t, okay?”
“Fine,” is all he says before adjusting himself in his pants. “Let’s go.”
We pull into the SixtyForty parking lot after an awkward and stiff car ride over, and head inside. It’s a Wednesday so it’s not packed, but there’s a decent sized crowd on the dance floor. Only about half of the tables are claimed. Behind me, Will leans down, whispering in my ear, “I’m going to get us drinks.” He says it in a way too familiar fashion, hands on my hips, lips bruising against my ear, reigniting my conflicting roil of guilt and arousal.
I find an empty table and wait for Will to return, feeling nervous and out of place here by myself. Miranda and I used to go dancing at SixtyForty every weekend. We used to be here nearly every Friday and Saturday, dancing with each other, with random guys. It's actually where Carter and I first met. I already knew of him because of him being on the hockey team with Will, but we had never actually talked. The night he approached me, he was so charming and sexy. He told me how I was the hottest girl in the entire bar, how he couldn't keep his eyes off me. He charmed me with his easy flirting and casual compliments and we were making out in the back of his car before the night was over.
I compulsively search the bar and the dancefloor for Carter, hoping to God he’s not here tonight. This is a popular hockey player hang out, and I’m already feeling out of sorts as it is. Thankfully, I don’t see him, easing the tension in my shoulders just a little.
“What’s your name?”
I whip my head to the side to find an extremely hot guy standing a few feet away from me. “What’s your name?”
I whip my head to the side to find an extremely hot guy standing a few feet away from me. I look him up and down before answering. “Kennedy. Yours?”
“Tyler.” He looks like a Tyler. Black hair and blue eyes, tall, handsome, perfectly straight teeth. He must take my asking his name as an invitation, because he pulls out the chair next to me and sits down. “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing here by herself tonight, Kennedy?”
“I’m not by myself, Tyler, I’m here with my friend.”
He leans in a little closer, smiling, “And where is this friend?”
I lift my chin toward the bar, “Getting us drinks.”
“Well that’s too bad, because I was going to buy you a drink.”
He really is handsome. I glance at the bar, at the back of Will’s head feeling even worse now. We kissed. I don’t owe Will anything, but at the same time I feel like I do. The guy in front of me is hot, but he’s not Will. And the way he’s making eyes at me has me paranoid that he might recognize me from my leaked pictures. He’s hot, but he’s not making my heart pound and my stomach clench with arousal. If anything, he’s making my chest tight with anxiety.
I’ve never been good at rejecting men. I don’t really know how to do it in a way that doesn’t make me feel guilty. So I placate him. “Maybe you can buy me the next one.”
“How about I take you out instead?”
My cheeks heat up at his direct question. I haven’t been asked out in such a forward manner. Ever. The guy next to me places his phone on the table, face up, open to a new contact page and smiles at me. All handsome and cocky. For one fraction of a second I think about how if Will wasn’t at the bar right now buying me a drink and if we didn’t just make out at my apartment, maybe, maybe, we would go on a date and click.But Will is at the bar and we did kiss and my stomach is still all fluttery when I think about it. The truth of the matter is I don’t really want this guy to have my number. If Miranda were here she’d know how to flip it so that he was the one giving me his number and then I could walk away and never call him again. But it’s just me, and I'm inputting my number when Will returns, a drink in each of his hands.
Will looks downright mean as he sets his beer down a little too hard on the table next to the guy I’m giving my number to as he holds my vodka cranberry in front of me. “Your drink.”
I whisper out my thanks as I take the cup from him, feeling like my dad just caught me talking to a cute boy after school. I look at Will and flash him a wide eyed look that he seems to completely miss. Miranda would know what I’m trying to communicate.
Instead, the two of them seem to be caught in some weird macho pissing contest. Tyler looks at Will, then back to me. “I thought you said you were here with a friend.”
“I am.”
He looks at Will, then stands up from the table to his full height. Will is just a little bit taller. I know it shouldn’t make me blush, and that realistically Will and Tyler are not sizing each other up over me, but nonetheless, a wild thrill shoots through all my limbs. “So she’s not your girl?”
A vein is popping out on the side of Will’s neck as he answers with a brusque, “No. She’s not.”
A cocky smirk flashes over the other guy’s face as he backs away. “Then I’ll call you. Bye gorgeous,” he says with a wink before retreating back to wherever he came from.
Will takes a seat at the table across from me, instead of next to me, and lifts his beer bottle to his lips. I feel really awkward.
“You like that guy?” He says, lip curled in irritation, eyes narrowed.
My stomach clenches and a tiny knot of defensiveness in my chest starts to form. “I don’t know, maybe. Why do you care?”
“I don’t. He just seems like a tool. I didn’t realize you were into guys like that is all.”
Hot defensiveness bubbles in my gut. “What are you even talking about? You met him for three seconds.”
He shoves a hand through his hair. “Okay fine.” He takes another long pull of his beer and then stands up. “Let’s go.”
