I glance up from my phone with a grin. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. But we need to get up there now, before the floor fills up and they start turning people away.” Jen tilts her head toward my hand, where I’m clutching my phone. “Texting Hunkalicious?”
Why does everyone call Drew nicknames? Owen and Lover Boy. Jen and Hunkalicious. I should call him something like Drew Bear or Drew-bee. Something silly and dumb and just for me. He’d probably die of mortification if I tried.
“Maybe,” I say with a shrug.
She smiles. “You should have him come pick you up.”
“But what about you?”
Jen shrugs. “I’m going to swing by the restaurant before I go home. Colin just messaged me and asked me if I would.”
Ah, I get it. Colin snaps his fingers and Jen comes running. I can sort of relate.
Focusing all my attention on my phone again, I type out a quick message to my hunkalicious boyfriend.
You should come and watch me dance.
Where are you?
I tell him, ending it with,Want me to tell you what I’m wearing so you can find me?
Baby, I could find you anywhereis his immediate reply.
Smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, I tuck my phone into the front pocket of my jeans and smile at Jen. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Chapter 16
The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space.
—Marilyn Monroe
Fable
The room is small and dark, jam-packed with people. I can hardly move, it’s so crowded, but I don’t care. I’ve got my arms above my head and my hands in the air, the lights that hang over us flashing in time to the beat of the music. I’m dancing my ass off, my hair sweaty, my legs aching.
Such a great night, I’m overwhelmed with how much fun I’m having. I feel fucking fantastic.
Jen is dancing with me and she’s surprisingly good, full of an innate rhythm that encourages me to step up my game. A group of guys crowded around us earlier, trying to get us to dance with them, but we turned in to each other, like we were on some sort of date. I wanted to discourage them and she did, too, so thankfully we were on the same page.
We danced together, bumping and grinding against each other a little bit because she’s buzzed and so am I, though noton alcohol. For once in my life, everything feels right on track. Like nothing is standing in my way.
I’ve turned into a total cliché again. But this time I’m a positive one. I might start singing cheesy eighties anthems because I feel like nothing’s gonna stop me now and all that crap.
The guys step back and form a semicircle around Jen and me as we dance, hooting and hollering and generally acting like perverts. We encourage them, swaying our hips, thrusting out our chests. I’m not even dressed that sexily. I went for casual with my jeans and a cute plaid shirt I found on clearance at Target, leaving it open with a white tank underneath.
Casually cute, I guess, because who am I trying to impress? Originally, my guy wasn’t supposed to be here.
He still isn’t here.
Another song comes on, this one slow, and everyone on the floor seems to vacate all at once. Jen and I send each other a silent message and we exit the dance floor as well, heading toward the bar. Jen scoots her skinny ass in between a crowd of people and somehow garners the bartender’s immediate attention, ordering us both a glass of ice water.
When she finally hands me the drink I chug it, the cold water soothing my parched throat. The lights have gone completely dim as a few couples slow dance together, most of them hardly moving, their feet shuffling as they focus on groping each other instead.
I’m thankful for the break, but I also miss Drew. Seeing the dancing couples lights a deep yearning within me. We’ve been dancing for over an hour. I thought he would be here by now, so where is he?
“I need to get going soon.” Jen pushes her damp hair away from her forehead. “Is your boyfriend coming to get you or what?”
