Chapter 38 – Tanner
THIRTY-EIGHT
TANNER
As soon as we step foot inside the Dusty Armadillo, the unmistakable thump of boots hitting the wooden floor and the twang of country music sweeps over us. The dance floor is a sea of cowboy boots and hats, swirling and moving to the lively beat. The thick smell of beer and sweat mingles in the air, transporting me to a honky-tonk time warp. The dimly lit walls are embellished with vintage signs and neon lights, adding to the rustic atmosphere.
I’ve been here a handful of times over the years, but most of my experiences in this bar were at the hands of Jenna and Kat dragging us out for college night, despite both Marcus and I having early classes on Thursday mornings. However, tonight isn’t college night, and while the line-dancing bar is significantly less crowded than usual, it’s still chaotic.
We all had midterms this week. They were hard—really hard—but being prepared definitely paid off. I got a 92% on my physics exam, which has easily been the hardest class this semester. It’s not to say that I don’t understand physics, but Professor Stanton is older than dirt and can’t stay awake for half the class, yet expects us to know all the material anyway. In all honesty, I’m not even sure he knows how to upload our grades into the portal; his TA handles most of that shit.
Gotta love tenure.
My hand rests against the small of Kat’s back as we get pushed closer to the bar by a group of people who apparently haven’t ever heard of personal space or manners.
My fingers trace the delicate curve of her spine below her crop top before I quickly pull my hand away. She blushes, and I can’t help but admire the subtle flush that sweeps across her cheeks. I mutter an apology even though I would do just about anything to keep that rosy hue on her face.
We haven’t hooked up since that first night, and while I would like nothing more than to do it again, I also don’t want to push her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. The sex was incredible—so incredible that I’m a bit embarrassed by how often it comes to mind when I’m jerking off.
When Jenna came barreling into my bedroom earlier to inform me that we were all going out to the Dusty to celebrate the end of midterms, I was admittedly…apprehensive. With what happened between Kat and me well over a month ago, I’ve been avoiding Elijah like the plague. Not because I give a shit what that prick thinks of me, but because I don’t want to say something that puts Kat in a weird position.
Elijah is a fucking dick who never deserved her, and I stand by that. However, her decision to stop caring what he thinks needs to be hers and hers alone.
To my delight, however, the dickhead isn’t here. He was invited, but he has some campaign dinner for his dad’s reelection tonight and I say good riddance. If I’m being totally honest, I doubt Jenna really wanted him here anyway. Dude’s an absolute buzzkill, and after everything he did to Kat last year, I’m pretty sure Jenna would love nothing more than to dump him in Lake Erie and watch him sink to the bottom.
Actually, I’m not sure anyone particularly likes him outside of Marcus, and even then I think they’ve just been friends for so long that it’s a friendship of obligation. That’s fine with me, though; it’s Marcus’s obligation, not mine.
Jenna squeals as some old Shania Twain song comes on and instantly yanks on Kat’s arm. The upbeat country song reverberates through my body as I lean in close to Kat. The smell of her floral perfume carries on the warm air and I can’t help but brush my lips against her ear as I ask, “Do you want a drink? I can order it for you while you’re out there.” A small smile creeps across my face as I feel her shiver in response.
Kat hasn’t been drinking much, so I’ve been cutting back too. Honestly, I kind of wish I had eased off years ago because I feel like a million bucks. That, and the idea of having a beer gut by twenty-five makes me want to throw up.
Kat glances at Jenna—who is growing noticeably more irritated as her favorite song’s precious few minutes waste away—before she looks at me. “Yeah, can you order me a vodka cranberry, please?”
“For sure.” I smile before she disappears onto the crowded dance floor.
Leaning against the bar, I order us both drinks, setting my ID and credit card down on the epoxy-covered wood. My eyes follow Kat as she moves on the dance floor in tandem with the crowd.
How these girls know every single one of these dances, I will never know .
As the sound of a fiddle and Shania Twain’s signature voice fill the room, Kat twirls and stomps in perfect synchronization with Jenna. Every step is fluid and precise, as if their bodies are made for this beat. She beams at me from across the dance floor, her dark brown hair bouncing with every step.
I’ll get out there with them soon. I always struggle to keep up with the basic line dance moves, but I do it anyway just to make Kat happy. Dancing might not be my forte, but seeing her smile is worth it all.
Kat continues to dance and I am completely transfixed as the soft white cotton of her cropped T-shirt rides up slightly, revealing what I can only assume is the black lace of her bra underneath. When she turns around—as I presume the choreography dictates—it is somehow an even better sight.
When Kat left the house earlier in a pair of denim cutoff shorts, I admittedly thought she was nuts, seeing as it’s mid-October. However, I can’t help but appreciate how her toned ass cheeks peek out from the frayed hem of her shorts with her every step.
Thank you, universe, for Kat’s bold—if not mildly unconventional—fashion choices.
Brendan’s bellowing laughter forces me to pry my eyes away from the intoxicating woman on the dance floor, but the moment I see him looking at me, I want to smack him upside the head. I glare at him as I grab my drinks from the bartender and drop a five-dollar tip on the bar.
“What?” I snip.
Brendan chuckles. “Oh, nothing…except you clearly want Kat.”
He is fully aware of what happened between Kat and me. We never agreed to not tell people, and I would bet money she most definitely told Jenna.
“Of course I like Kat—other than you, she’s my best friend, you ass hat,” I say as I smack the top of his brown suede cowboy hat that he insisted he had to buy for tonight.
“That isn’t what I meant and you know it. If you want to fuck Kat again so bad, just tell her. By the way, she was just looking at you. I imagine she’d happily oblige.”
It’s not about obliging, and he should know that. The entire reason we had sex in the first place was to help her get over Elijah. While I don’t know the inner workings of her mind, especially not when it comes to why she would ever care about that douche, she seems to be doing well. So, why would I choose to fuck that up by making things any more complicated for her?
“Nah, man, we’re just friends,” I say, though we both know it’s a boldfaced lie.
Regina and Aaron weave through the energetic dancers, their cowboy boots tapping out a rhythm on the wooden floor. They reach Kat and Jenna, who are still laughing and twirling in the center of the crowd. Regina says something to them and they all turn to look at us, then start heading toward the bar. I hand Kat her drink and she grins gratefully before taking a sip.
“Hey, Katie?” Aaron leans over the bar to wave down the bartender. He holds up seven fingers and mouths “ Fireball .”
“No shot for me,” Kat says awkwardly, causing Aaron to look at her funny.
“Are you pregnant or something?” he scoffs.
“Aaron, I am literally holding a drink right now.”
He furrows his brow and nods, the corners of his mouth turned down in a deep frown. His eyes flicker with confusion and he scratches at his head, ruffling up his already messy hair.
Since Aaron appears to be shorting out, I say to the bartender, “He’ll have five shots of fireball.”
“You too?” Aaron groans. “You guys are no fun—it’s our senior year, for God’s sake.”
“I’m not feelin’ shots tonight, man, stomach is off.” I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t believe me. Whatever—he doesn’t have to believe me. All that matters is that Kat doesn’t feel singled out.
She leans against my side with her straw between her lips and whispers, “Thank you.”
“Of course.” I smile.
As the night wears on, Aaron and Marcus down more drinks, their movements becoming increasingly unsteady. Jenna and Regina proceed to do three more rounds of shots and I don’t know where Brendan is for most of the night. By 1:00 AM, I know it’s time to call it a night. Our group stumbles out of the bar, and I feel grateful that I only had two drinks all night as everyone clumsily piles into my SUV, Aaron slurring his words and laughing uncontrollably in the back seat.
By the time we pull into the driveway, everyone but me and Kat in the front seat are passed out cold. Luckily, unlike that time Jenna passed out in my back seat, I feel much more comfortable being an asshole tonight.
“Hey, fuck face, we’re home.” I reach behind me and smack what feels like a male head—I’m unsure whose, but also don’t really care.
“What the fuck, man? That hurt!” Brendan groans. His loud response stirs the rest of the drunken idiots and, to my delight and relief, they start climbing out of my car.