“Thanks, man, but I didn’t do anything. It was all of them,” I say, turning my attention of where Danny is watching. The girls are standing there swaying their hips to the beat. “It’s time to dance,” I say, rising from my chair and pulling him with me. “Ladies, let’s take this party to the dance floor.”
The suggestion is met by cheers from the ladies. Jase, Danny, Dex and I follow them to the dance floor. All of them have someone to dance with, expect for me. Hendrix and I are the only two that are not attached in this little group that we have created. Sometimes, it makes it awkward, like right now. I’d loveto go over to her and pull her close to me. Let our bodies sway to the music just like the others.
But I don’t. I can’t.
She would have my balls hanging off a silver platter because she is so angry at me. Every once in a while, I get a glimpse of my Hendrix, the girl that I dated back at UNC. But it’s almost like she realizes and slams a steely wall up so high that I can’t even begin to scale it.
I attempt to dance with no one. It’s what I normally do. Hendrix does the same thing. We’re used to this little routine that we have to do. Dancing when we are the only two that don’t have a partner but refuse to partner up. I move a bit to the beat, standing near the couples that are lost in the music. But I can’t do it tonight. I don’t want to be dancing alone, and the icy stare that Hendrix gives me when I take a step in her direction has me backing off.
I leave the dance floor and head back to the bar, where I camp out for a bit. I can still see everyone dancing, but the one person that I left without a partner is not there anymore. I decide to let her go for a little while. Let her be by herself before I seek her out. And when I do, if she’s still alone, then I’ll try to join her. Something I long to do more than I’d like to admit.
An hour later, I order two shots of tequila and decide to go in search of her.
The music pulses low, the kind that makes conversation feel like a secret. The team has taken over the whole bar and dance floor area. I make my way to the patio that is out back. We rarely hang out there. The Tampa heat makes it feel unbearable out there, but that’s where I find her.
Hendrix is nursing a beer, legs stretched out on a lounge chair as she stares out into the darkness behind the bar.
I place a shot down on the table where her beer rests. I lower myself to the lounge chair, sliding her legs over a bit so that I can perch on it.
“What do you want?” she asks me. There’s not the usual malice in her voice, so I decide to take that as a win for the night.
“You looked good tonight,” I tell her as I slowly spin my shot in my hand.
Hendrix picks her shot up and clinks her glass against mine. “We won. That’s what matters.”
We both take our shots and let the tequila burn our throats.
“You made three impossible saves. That last one—Jesus.” I shake my head and look at her in awe.
She shrugs. “Reflex.”
I study her for a moment. “You always downplay your brilliance, or is it just when I’m around?”
She turns to me. Her eyes are sharp. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not.” I hold up a hand, as if I’m surrendering. “I’m just… proud of you.”
I can tell that remark hit her harder than she wanted it to. I watch her throat bob as she swallows slowly. Hendrix picks up her beer and takes a long swig of it. “You don’t get to be proud. You left.”
“I know,” I say, avoiding her eyes.
Silence stretches between us, thick with everything that is left unsaid.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” I admit. “More when I drink. Which is probably why I’m here.”
She laughs, bitter and tired. “That’s healthy.”
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Then why did you come?” Hendrix sits up so that we are inches away from each other.
I look at her, studying her face, like I’m trying to see what has changed since the last time I was this close. “Because I miss you. And because I’m drunk enough to say it.”
Hendrix sighs. But she doesn’t walk away or throw her beer in my face. The tequila is warm in my veins and it’s making me bold.
I brush a stray strand of hair that slipped out of her ponytail off her face, “You’re still so beautiful.”
“And being alone with you is still so dangerous,” she says.
