Chapter 31 – Kat
THIRTY-ONE
KAT
As we approach the Dusty Armadillo, an eerie sense of déjà vu washes over me. It feels unusually similar to when we came here around this time last year for our first night of line dancing of the semester, except this time it’s just me and Jenna. She tried to get Marcus to come, but he and Tanner already got slammed with a ton of homework for one of their architecture classes, so they’re both stuck at home.
I’m weirdly happy about it—not that Marcus and Tanner couldn’t come, but because there is something about it just being me and Jenna that brings me calm. We haven’t had a night like this in a while, and it used to be what all our nights were like. The two of us going to parties and campus events, just us.
Darren, manning the door to the Dusty, smiles at us. “There’s my favorite girls,” he says before looking around. “What, no boyfriends tonight?”
“Nope, just us tonight!” Jenna responds with a grin as she loops her arm through mine. “Girls’ night. ”
Darren nods and grins. “Like the old days.” He opens the door, and instantly we’re embraced by the sound of a familiar George Strait song and boots stomping on the dance floor.
The rustic wooden floors creak under our boots as we twirl and kick to the beat of the music. The smell of leather and sweat mingles with hints of whiskey and beer in the air. I’ve lost count of how many times I have come here to dance without even touching a drop of alcohol. It has been a place where we can let loose and have fun without being pressured to drink or conform to the typical college party culture. This country line-dancing bar has become our sanctuary, our escape from the chaos of college life.
However, tonight is not the night that we choose to abstain. Tonight, we are drinking.
Jenna and I decided that, since neither of us have morning classes on Thursdays, we’re all in. So naturally, the moment the song comes to an end, we beeline straight for the bar.
“Two shots of Jack Honey, please!” Jenna says with a grin, and the bartender slides two small glasses filled with amber liquid toward us across the smooth, polished wood of the bar. We each grab one and raise them in unison. The fiery burn of the alcohol as it travels down my throat causes me to wince, but I quickly recover and let out a satisfying exhale.
“Jeez—” Jenna breaks into a coughing fit. She’s never been great at taking shots, and yet she always insists on them. Once her breathing is back to normal, she reaches for the tall glass of water the bartender swiftly set in front of her.
Once we’re back on the dance floor, the music shifts to “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain and we both squeal in delight. Everyone on the dance floor flows together in an all-too-familiar dance, Jenna and I among them, each move like muscle memory.
After the third song, we decide to take a break from dancing and grab another drink, at which point Jenna insists we each order another shot alongside our mixed drinks. I still wince as I swallow the fiery liquid, but it’s nowhere as bad as the first shot.
By the fifth shot an hour and a half later, I barely feel it coating my throat, and by the looks of Jenna, she’s just as drunk as I am.
“Should we call an Uber?” Jenna yells over the loud music as the clock on my phone reads 1:30 AM.
“Probably,” I respond. I pull up the app, but there are no Ubers available. Our pick-up estimate is over forty-five minutes out and I might actually keel over from exhaustion if we wait that long.
Jenna groans as she looks down at my phone, then says, “You should text Tanner.”
“Why?”
“So he can pick us up?” she responds.
“What about Marcus?” I ask.
“Marcus has an early class, and Tanner is always up late.”
She’s not wrong, and I realize with startling clarity there are a few things I’d like to do beyond just seeing Tanner. Ever since he suggested I get over Elijah by quite literally getting under him, it’s all I can think about.
It makes it rather inconvenient when I’m trying to get my footing with a new schedule of classes.
“Fine,” I mutter, attempting to appear more irritated than I am.
Kat
Tannnnerrrrrr :)
Tanner
What do you want? Lol
Any chance you can come get us from the dusty?
I watch with bated breath as three dots appear, then disappear, then reappear again.
Pleeeeeease
Im grabbing my keys, I will be there in ten
A sigh of relief falls past my lips as I turn to Jenna. “He’s on his way.”
Ten minutes later, Tanner’s black SUV pulls up to the Dusty Armadillo, its tires crunching over gravel. He parks in the first available spot and jumps out of the driver’s seat, his black T-shirt hugging his muscular frame. His dark gray basketball shorts are wrinkled and his tousled hair suggests he was sleeping. I feel a pang of guilt for inconveniencing him as he approaches us with a yawn.
“Thank you!” Jenna yells. She darts toward the vehicle, then all but throws herself into the back seat face-first.
“Heyyyy,” I say, grinning and stumbling slightly as I approach him.
Tanner smiles down at me, not a hint of irritation in his expression. “Hey, you. Did you have fun?”
“Loads.”
“Good.”
I lean toward him and my fingers tingle as they trace the defined ridges of his abs through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. I can’t resist the urge to wrap my arms around his waist. It’s like I’m noticing his muscles for the first time, even though I’ve always known deep down that he’s attractive. But now, he’s more than just hot—he’s James Lafferty as Nathan Scott in One Tree Hill hot.
He doesn’t recoil as I squeeze him tightly; he simply wraps his arms around me and hugs me back. “Kat…”
“Yes?” I say, sated and bordering on sleepy as I rest my head against his chest.
Tanner seems to fight off a laugh as he asks, “How much did you drink?”
“A few, why?”
“You smell like you bathed in whiskey. Let me guess, Jenna wanted to take shots?”
“Biiiingo.”
Tanner just chuckles as he releases my waist and begins pushing me toward his SUV. I climb into the passenger seat and buckle myself in before turning my head to find Jenna not just lying in the back seat face-down, but sleeping. Full-on, not a care in the world, snoring with her face pressed up against the leather interior.
When we arrive at the house, Jenna is still out cold, so much so that Tanner has to carry her inside. I knock on her and Marcus’s bedroom door twice before he appears in the doorway, wiping sleep from his eyes.
“Sorry, man, your girl had a little too much to drink,” Tanner whispers.
Marcus nods before hoisting Jenna into his arms and kicking the door shut behind him.
As Tanner and I walk down the hallway, our footsteps are the only sound echoing through the quiet house. I glance at him, noticing the tension in his jaw and the way his fingers flex by his side. The air feels heavy with unspoken words as we reach the end of the hall and stand outside our separate bedrooms, which are positioned directly across from each other.
Neither of us moves or breaks the silence until suddenly we both speak at the same time, causing an awkward overlap of words.
Tanner says, “Do you need anything?” right as I say, “I think we should.”
“What?” Tanner asks.
“Huh?”
“What did you just say?”
“I…what did you say?”
“What I said doesn’t matter. What did you say?”
I swallow hard as I look down at the hardwood floor, my socks tattered and mangled from the night of dancing. When I finally muster the nerve to say it again, it comes out in a single breath. “Ithinkweshouldhookup.”
One corner of Tanner’s lips tips upward, but he doesn’t say anything. He just moves toward me, encroaching on the little space that remains between us. I tip my head back to meet his eyes, and the moment I do, it all feels abundantly obvious. He’s glad I said what I said and I’m just realizing now that I don’t know if I’ve ever felt one-hundred-percent sure that a guy was being honest—ever.
I desperately search for a way to express how much I want him, and my body takes the lead. I rise onto my tiptoes and brush my lips against his. He leans into the kiss, then suddenly pulls back as I try to deepen it with my tongue. His hesitation only fuels my desire and I reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair and pulling him closer.
“Kat, no.” His voice sounds pained and I don’t think I’ve ever been so confused.
“But I thought you wanted?—”
“I do,” he reassures me. “But you’re drunk and I’m not that guy.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“I don’t care.”
Stepping backward, I fix my eyes on the floorboards between us again, attempting but failing to keep the tears at bay as the humiliation of rejection washes over me.
“Hey, hey,” he soothes, his voice pleading and tender as he steps toward me, tipping my chin up so my eyes meet his. “I don’t want you to take me saying no to you tonight as me saying no. Trust me, it’s taking everything in me right now not to give you exactly what you’re asking for. But you’re drunk, and I would never ever want to take advantage.”
I try to interject and reassure him that it wouldn’t be taking advantage—that I want this—but he presses his pointer finger against my lips to shush me. He actually shushes me, and I know that I should be bothered by it, but something about the motion turns my insides to water.
He continues, “I don’t care if you don’t think it would be taking advantage. I don’t want there to be even the tiniest part of you that regrets it when we have sex for the first time. So we can talk about it tomorrow…when you’re sober and don’t reek of whiskey.”
“I do not reek!”
“Oh, you definitely reek. You smell like you’ve been bathing in the barrel.”
“Asshole,” I giggle as I push his shoulder. He grins from ear to ear as my eyes meet his. “I understand. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he repeats. “But in the meantime, go to bed. I’ll grab you some water…and a bucket.”
“I don’t need a bu?—”
“Katarina. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink where you didn’t throw up at least once the next morning.”
Ugh, I hate it when he’s right. I fight back the urge to argue more, to tell him I have both water in my mini fridge and a trash can in my room, and instead say the only reasonable thing left to say.
“Thank you.”