18. Gemma
18
Gemma
W e enter the bar to find it a little bigger and busier than either of us were expecting. It even has a live band playing and several people are out on the small dance floor having a blast. We exchange a quick “what the hell” glance and walk up to the bar. I have to stifle a giggle when we both order a mixed drink. He is definitely on the same wavelength as I am. A beer wouldn’t take the edge off fast enough and shots wouldn’t let us keep our wits about us.
We spend most of our time perched on wooden bar stools people watching and laughing together. But when I realize my drink only has a sip or two left and the band starts playing one of my favorite songs, I get brave. I decide to start small, puppy dog eyes.
“Not a chance,” Brooks says without me even asking.
“Pleeaassee,” I draw out as I stand up and tug at his hand like a child.
To my complete surprise, he huffs out a sigh and stands up. He laces his fingers in mine and lets me lead him onto the dance floor. He isn’t doing much dancing. In fact, he is standing there laughing at me while I act a fool but I’m so happy that he was willing to come out here with me that I don’t care.
The band switches gears and starts to play a slower song. Brooks does that thing where he silently asks me what I think by just raising an eyebrow. I melt every damn time. I beam and nod at him and he pulls me into his arms. The entire world stops, and I can see nothing but him. I am utterly intoxicated by his closeness. But as if he is not half as affected as I am, he glides us right into a two-step in time with the other couples. The couples all around us that I had forgot existed. With my head now back on my body and realizing that we are in fact not alone in this place, I take a moment to appreciate the fact that this man can dance. Seriously, is there anything he can’t do?
When we are both just about worn out, we leave the dance floor and walk back to the bar. We place the order for our second drink and Brooks excuses himself to the restroom. He is barely out of sight before I am rolling my eyes at some drunk loser hitting on me. I am used to this sort of thing; after all, I find myself alone at parties all the time. I turn away from him and dutifully begin to ignore him. I pull out my phone and text Liv to further the message that he isn’t worth my time.
Liv: how’s it going? Find a bar?
Gem: Good. Yeah, Brooks asked the lady at the front desk, and she gave us directions.
Liv: Good drink up