We drink. It is very cold and sweet, meaning it goes down too easily. I have had three sips when something thumping blares through the speakers and Carla shrieks.
“This is my song.” Her eyes widen. “We have to dance.”
“Carla, no! I agreed to drinks. I?—”
“This is my song, Robyn, this is absolutely my song. Put your drink down right now, we’re going.”
“I don’t like dancing. We?—”
She already has my wrist. She puts both our drinks on the bar, gives the bartender a look that promises she will personally hunt him down if either glass moves, and drags me onto the dance floor.
Carla can dance, so I do my best to keep up, and to my surprise, I’m laughing before the chorus hits. It has been a long time since I went out.
When the song ends, she tows me back to the bar. Our drinks are still there. The bartender winks at me when I catch his eye.
“See?” Carla’s eyes glint. “That was fun, wasn’t it? Are you still mad at me?”
“I was never mad at you.”
“You were bordering on mad.”
“I was bordering on tired. There’s a difference.”
I glance over her shoulder. There’s a guy a few feet down the other side of the bar, leaning on his elbow. His gaze is firmly on Carla. I don’t blame him. She looks gorgeous in her tight, black dress. It’s short too, showing off her long, toned legs.
I hate her almost as much as I love her.
I, on the other hand, am in a plain black top and a pair of black jeans. Nothing special.
It’s not like I came out to pick anyone up. I don’t have much time for dating. Maybe in a year or two. Once I have my new position knuckled down.
The guy keeps staring.
“What is it?” Carla asks.
“Don’t turn now—” I say.
She turns.
“Carla!”
“You should never say that to someone because it’s what they always end up doing.”
“That’s stupid,” I whisper.
“It may be stupid, but it’s also true.”
“Whatever. There’s a guy staring you down like you’re a tasty treat and he hasn’t eaten in a week.”
She starts to turn again.
“Don’t! You idiot.” I laugh.
She grins, then lowers her voice. “I didn’t get a good enough look. Which one is it? White shirt or the one in the gray?”
“Gray. By the pillar.”
She takes her time over a sip of her drink before letting her eyes drift. Whatever passes between her and the guy at the pillar,it happens in under a second. She turns back to me with her cheeks a fraction pinker than they were.
