“Mmmhmm,” I say to his back.
“I’m serious, Ava.”
“You’re always serious, James.”
His fists clench at his sides, but he doesn’t turn around.
My brain starts to rattle and I know we are close. The opening chords of “Juicy” hit my ear, and the music feels a little less invasive at this distance and a little more inviting. The bar is entirely madeof the old stone that comprises most of the town, but instead of one single entrance, there are three huge semicircular drop-down garage doors. James squats and lifts one high enough for me to duck under, and the moment I do it’s like I’ve stepped into an underground club.
The garage door drops behind me and I barely hear it over Biggie’s chorus. The inside of the bar is broken into two rooms—the bar room where a dozen red leather booths line the back wall, and what appears to be the dance room where a small platform peeks out above the cluster of gyrating students with their drinks held aloft like torches. Torches that are spilling all over their heads and clothes, but they don’t seem to mind.
I see a handsome older gentleman climb over the bar and push his way through the crowd. He looks stressed. Or distressed. Both, really.
“Gi!” he yells.
James puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me toward him.
“Gli Americani,” the man gestures to the bar. “They will not get out from behind the bar.”
I lift onto my toes and take in the four girls who are mixing drinks while they dance and shake. They are all in our class. And they are working that bar like they’ve been trained at Coyote Ugly. I try not to smile when the one named Jennifer sprays a guy reaching for her friend Sam’s ass across the bar. Looks like they’ve got shit under control.
Tommaso gestures toward the other room, where everyone is singing the lyrics as they sway. My rib cage suddenly feels too tight as I watch their happy faces laughing without a care in the world. This would have been me at twenty-one if I hadn’t canceled my study abroad summer. The thought sends an unfamiliar yearning through me, and I force my gaze away to focus on Tommaso.
“And they have taken over la musica,” he yells, his bushy eyebrows disappearing into his thick hair.
I squint and find a student named Jessica on the platform with a pair of headphones on, dancing above the singing crowd. There’s a dark-haired, olive-skinned man behind her that might be the only one in the bar who isn’t dancing—including me. James’s hand stills me by the shoulder and I look up at him, pressing my lips together so hard they might bruise.
“Alright, Tommaso,” James yells. “We will handle them.”
I widen my eyes at James. Is there really something to handle here? A couple of girls helping out behind the bar and another who appears to be working the crowd with her music doesn’t seem like a problem for the dynamic duo. I start to move my hips again and James shakes his head and lowers his mouth near my ear and says, “You deal with the music. I’ll handle the bar.”
“If I’m not back in ten, save yourself,” I say, trying my hardest to be serious. James ignores me and heads for the bar, leaving me to shimmy my way through the drunk crowd. I stay along the wall, trying not to draw any attention to myself, and I’m doing a damn good job when chaos breaks out at the bar.
“Shot! Shot! Shot!”
Everyone is pounding on the bar top and I make out James shaking his head while Samantha pours a shot in front of him. I can tell he’s working hard not to smile; his dimple does the pop-and-hide thing as he leans in and says something to the students behind the bar. They all nod in unison and James lifts the shot and throws it back. The cheers are deafening.
My partner has gone rogue, it seems, but then the four girls make their way out from behind the bar and James turns in my direction, scanning the dance floor for me. I slide and sway to the platform so he doesn’t catch me watching him with this stupidsmile on my face. When I’m close enough, I tap Jessica’s foot until she looks down and sees me. Her face breaks out into a huge smile and she pulls me up as she grabs the microphone and emcees over the music.
“Special guest everyone! Miss G is out tonight!”
Everyone’s hands go up in the air and I shake my head, trying not to laugh. They are chanting my name like I might do a solo performance of “Lose Yourself” on the platform. I feel like I’m about to deflate a bouncehouse with twenty toddlers in it.
“Jessica!” I yell, but there’s no way in hell she can hear me with the headphones she’s stolen from this poor schmuck behind her. He makes a hand signal toward her that can only meanwhat the actual fuck.
I tap the side of my head and signal for her to take them off. She leans in.
“You have to give this man his job back,” I tell her in her ear.
She pulls back and looks at my face, shaking her head with a horrified look. Then she leans back in and says, “Miss Graham, I can’t. It’s bad. He only has like five songs and they are from the nineties.”
I swallow my laugh and try not to be offended at her calling out my birth decade, then lean in to tell her the song she’s playing is from the dreaded nineties, but I can tell it’s a lost cause. My eyes find James sitting at the bar, his arms folded across his chest, one brow lifted as he watches me as if he knows exactly what I’m about to do. I hear Jessica repeating the wordpleaseover and over beside me, and I mouth the words to James over the sea of heads. “Abort mission.”
He shakes his head and lifts his camera, aiming it at me. I shrug and smile, then lean into Jessica and tell her, “If Tommaso signals you, cut the music and help him. Deal?”
She nods and I wink at her. She holds up her hands in victory. Everyone cheers, and the song blends into Lizzo as I make my way down the platform steps and back toward the bar, where James is grinding his teeth so hard that I see the muscle along his jaw twitch with the effort.
“Am I kicked out of the Justice League?” I yell at him.
