He has a great smile, but there’s no dimple accompanying it.
He’s just not him.
But the entire group of girls I’m here with are all busy dancing and flirting and I am sick of sitting by myself, so I smile at the man. If nothing else, at least I’ll have someone to talk to tonight.
“There, I think I got it all. I’m so sorry,” he shouts again.
“It’s alright,” I say, shaking out my still damp and now sticky hand. “Bar hazard, right?”
His smile widens at the seeming acceptance and he gestures to the bartender. “Can I get another one for the lady?”
Thebartender nods and gets to work remaking my margarita.
“I’m Adam,” he says, extending a hand to me. I stare at it for a moment before putting my own in his. It feels wrong—his hand is sweaty and mine is sticky and his grip is too tight. I hate it.
“Jane.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I offer a polite smile and drop his hand. As I wait on my new drink, I hoist myself on the black leather bar chair, crossing my leg over the other. His eyes catch on my legs, traveling unabashedly down them to the pink heels on my feet then slowly back up. I prickle slightly under his attention. It doesn’t fill me with warmth and pride and excitement like it does when Reid looks at me.
A new margarita appears in front of me and I grab it, immediately taking several gulps.
“So what are you doing out here tonight?”
“Bachelorette party,” I shout over the music.
“Where’s the bride-to-be?”
I point wordlessly to my sister who is, as predicted, grabbing the man’s arm and laughing at something he said.
“She must be very in love with her fiancé,” he says sarcastically as he watches her flirt. I bristle slightly at the comment. Kate may have hurt my feelings and made me mad, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand for anyone talking badly about her. Especially not a stranger at the bar.
“She is, she’s just also very in love with getting attention.”
“And what about you?” he says, turning to me.
“What about me?”
“Is there a fiancé you’re in love with somewhere out there?”
I shake my head, taking another long pull of my margarita. “Nope.”
Hissmile widens. My foot starts bobbing under his stare, but he must mistake it for tapping to the beat.
“Do you want to dance?”
I don’t. I really don’t. But I also don’t want to sit at this bar all night chugging margaritas and thinking about Reid, so I toss back the rest of my drink, letting the tequila give me some courage to hop off the stool and walk to the dance floor with him. I find a spot near my sisters and turn around, just to nearly slam into Adam.
“Oh!” I say. “I didn’t realize you were so close.”
“All good,” he murmurs before wrapping his arms around my waist. I move to the beat of the music, my hips swaying in time to the beat, but something feels off. He grabs my hand and twirls me so that I’m facing forward, then presses his chest against my back. It feels wrong too. His arms aren’t the ones I keep thinking about encircling me in a hug. His smell isn’t the sharp citrus of lemon.
He’s just not him. I hate that it bothers me. I hate that I keep comparing him. And I hate that Reid has somehow taken such a hold of my mind already that I can’t even entertain the idea of anyone else. He’s going to ruin my desire to date anyone else ever again. I can’t have that. I need to move on. If he doesn’t date or commit, then I can’t stay hung up on him, even if he does make me smile and make me feel seen and heard.
I throw myself into the dance, only focusing on the beat of the music and the feeling of warm hands on my hips. The song ends and fades into a new one, a faster one. The tequila has me feeling confident and carefree. Adam tightens his fingers on my hips and it doesn’t feel right, but I’m just tipsy enough that it doesn't bother me anymore.
“Mind if I cut in?” The deep voice alone makes my heart pick up a notch.
