She blinks, eyes locked with mine and moving from one to the other, but doesn’t say anything.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m sorry. One, you’re doing that thing again where you speak like an old book and in my head that just doesn’t compute. Second, my best friend hasn’t even been on a date since college and now she’s telling me she wants a one-night romp fest with a bearded man bun named Dexter. Who are you?!”
I shake my head and laugh. “Right now, I honestly have no idea. I was Alis in the booth, Alis at the bar, and then somehow I channeled my inner Skye and started flirting with the gorgeous man who sat down next to me.”
Skye smiles wider than she has all night. “I dare you to go home with him.”
“What are we, twelve? You aren’t daring me to do anything.” I shrug and let loose another smile. “I want to keep talking to him, and we’ll see where it goes. Besides, I already told him I won’t be going home with him tonight and he was fine with that. Said he just wanted to talk.”
She snort-laughs again. “Yeah, okay. He’s fine with that as long as the conversation ends with you naked and spread out across his bed.”
I swat her stomach and nod toward the mob of dancing people. “Go dance, hussy. You’re the one who wanted to go to a club tonight and I’m pretty sure the grease twins you’ve been dry-humping all night miss you.”
Twiddling her fingers, Skye spins and saunters back to the dance floor. She disappears into the crowd of bodies before I see whether or not she found her two slices of bread. Nothing like a Skye sandwich to make her night magical. I’ve never been into the two-guys-at-once thing. Not that I’ve ever tried it, but considering my sexual roster is a mere two guys deep and hasn’t been added to since age twenty-one, I can’t even think of attempting anything close to that right now.Ew. No. I’ll leave the crazy sexcapades to Skye.
And crazy sexcapades include one-night stands in Alis’s world. Dexter is gorgeous, no doubt, but I’ve been talking to him for what, five minutes? I don’t know if I’d forgive myself for ending a nine-year dry spell with a man I’ve literally just met. Nope. Not happening.
I’m shaken out of my runaway thought train when the smell of cedarwood and spruce reappears next to me. “Here; these should work better than that three-by-three-inch excuse for a napkin,” Dexter says as he slides back onto his bar stool.
“Thanks,” I breathe out, taking the paper towels and dabbing them on my chest and dress. “That was my more exciting and adventurous half. She has trouble balancing on two feet.”
“Well, don’t the two of you make a cute couple,” Dexter says through a smile.
“Pfft,” I shake my head in exasperation. “Friends is as far as I’ll ever go with that tornado. Or any woman, for that matter.”
“I see,” he laughs. “So, where were we? I believe you were thanking me for staying.” That half smile has officially turned into a smirk. So he is a bit cocky. Or confident. Either way, that smile/smirk is driving me insane.
“I don’t know that I was thanking you, per se. But I am glad you’re here.” I smile at him and rest my chin on my hand.
“So, Alis —” My phone goes off, Stewy from Family Guy yelling, “Mom! Mommy! Mommy! Mama! Mom!” on repeat until I answer the damn thing. I open my clutch, pulling out the phone to silence the ridiculous ringtone, and read the text from my mom.
I exhale. “I’m so sorry; I’d typically ignore my phone but I need to check this.”
“No worries,” he smiles, motioning for the bartender to get him another beer and replace my spilled vodka soda.
Mom: Sunny woke up running a fever of 101.2. I can take care of her, but she’s crying and asking for you.
Me: Did you give her anything for the fever?
Mom: Some cold water and a cool washcloth. I’m not sure where to find her medicine in all these boxes.
Me: Ugh. I have no idea either. I’ll swing by a drugstore on my way home. Be home in 30.
“I swear that wasn’t a ‘save me’ text, but I do have to leave,” I say, looking up at Dexter as he takes a swig of his new beer.
“That’s a shame; I was enjoying learning about Alis and wanted to hear more about her adventures in Wonderland.”
“Like I said,” I point to myself and let out a breathy chuckle, “boring. I was enjoying getting to know you, too,” I say, looking down at my crossed legs. “Would you —”
“Could I have your number?” he asks, right as I was about to ask if he wanted that very same thing.
“Sure,” I squeak, my face lighting up at his request. Seriously, I have lost all cool. I’m like a puppy — giving my affection freely and looking like I want to hump his leg.Oh God, now I’m thinking about rubbing up against his leg.
Shaking myself out of my ridiculous and perverted thoughts, I ask, “Do you have a pen?”
“You could just plug it into my phone.”
