CHAPTER 18
Dressed in shorts and a striped shirt, I twist my fingers around a few curls in my hair, getting them to lay exactly as I like. My stomach squeezes as if it’s trying to juice a lemon. Why am I doing this? Mom doesn’t know what’s best for me. I do.
My phone pings with a text. Picking it up from the counter, I read the message.
Henry: Hey. We’re in the car. Want to ride with us or meet there?
Me: I’ll meet you there.
There’s no way I want to be trapped at a club until midnight. Snatching my keys off the dresser, I head to the garage. I keep the radio silent on the way to the dance club. The noise is too much for my nerves. I’m clammy and my mouth is dry. Half an hour. That’s it. In and out.
I can do this.
Pulling into a parking spot, I immediately hop out of my SUV before I talk myself out of going inside. I open the door and am greeted by a line of people waiting to get inside. I text Henry.
Me: Where are you guys? I just got here.
Henry: We got a table in the back left corner. Ordering drinks in a minute. Want anything?
I’m afraid I’ll puke if I try to put anything in my body right now. Me: Nah, I’m good. See you in a sec.
I show the burly bouncer my driver’s license and he waves me in. Weaving around clusters of people in the dimmed room, I make my way toward the back. Usher’s “DJ Got Us Fallin’ in Love” plays at a decibel level my ears don’t appreciate. Drinks are served from the bar off to the right of the large space. I keep looking for my family and just when I think I’m at the wrong place (which isn’t possible since this is the only dance club in Stokesley), I spot Evie hugging some guy I’ve never seen before.
She sees me and shrieks, “Bennett! Yes, I’m so glad you came.” She grabs my arm, hauling me in front of the stranger. “Eric, this is my cousin Bennett. Bennett, this is Eric. We met a week and a half ago.”
Makes perfect sense Evie found someone to hang out with this summer the first few days here. She’s never lacked for company, especially those of my gender. “Hey, man. Nice to meet you.”
He tips his chin up in the standard bro hello. “Hey.”
Evie turns and introduces the rest of the guys. Wait… Where’s Millie? Acting as casual as can be, I ask, “Where’s Millie? I thought she said she was coming?”
Evie pouts. “Your mom has her all giddy with this new job. She wanted to stay home and do more research.”
My brows rise. I’m surprised, in a good way. I can’t believe a young twenty-year-old college student is willingly passing up an opportunity to party. I’m torn between staying and going home.
Emerson stands, clapping my shoulder as he does so. “I’m headed to the bar. Do you want to come with me?”
I shake my head. “I’m going to dance.”
Then go home. I can tell Mom I tried. It sucked. The end.
Turning around, I survey the dance floor. Though it’s only eight-thirty, there are at least a hundred people here. I take my time feeling out who appears to be single, who catches my eye (so far no one), and who I’m willing to approach.
My hands shake and a sheen of sweat coats the back of my neck. This is stupid. I turn to tell my family I’m not feeling well when someone taps on my shoulder.
Turning around, I stare at the newcomer. A woman with fiery red hair and a very tight, very short green dress smiles exuberantly at me. “Hi.” She waves. “Would you like to dance with me?”
I want to say no. Instead, I hold out my hand. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”
She slides her slender fingers across my palm. The move is meant to be seductive. But I feel… nothing. No heat. No sparks.
This feels like when I hold my elderly neighbor’s hand every Tuesday evening when she comes home from playing Bingo at the senior center and needs help up her front steps.
We move away from the table, closer to where people are dancing. It’s a fast song, one I’m not used to moving my body to. Purposely keeping a foot between us, I’m awkward as I move my feet and hips. My grandpa has better moves than me. Ignoring the heat scorching my chest and neck over my terrible shuffling I’m calling dancing, I peruse the woman brave enough to approach me.
She’s cute. There’s a smattering of freckles covering her cheeks and nose. Her dress hugs every inch of her curves, accentuating her slender figure. Her makeup isn’t heavy or messily applied. Objectively, she’s someone I may have flirted with before Jen. But right now? There’s nothing here. Maybe I need to touch her?
As if I had telepathy, the DJ changes the music to a slow song. Bravely, I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her waist. I don’t pull her into me, keeping a lengthwise three-Bible distance between us.
She takes the opportunity of the languid pace to speak. “I’m Faith. What’s your name?”
“I’m Bennett.”
Her hand moves from my shoulder to behind my neck. “Are you here for the summer?”
That one small move is like her grasping my throat and squeezing. I can’t breathe. This is painful. I choke out, “Yes. You?”
Her fingers play with the strands of my hair at the base of my neck. Ants are crawling on me. This sensation is having the opposite effect of what she’s intending.
Breathe, man. Just breathe.
“I’m only here for a week,” she purrs. “No time for strings.” She blinks coyly at me.
She’s forward, I’ll give her that.
Dropping my hands from her waist, I step back. “I’m still getting over a relationship. It was nice to meet you, Faith. I hope you enjoy your time in Stokesley.” I walk back to the table Evie and Eric are sitting at. Plopping onto the bench, I grab someone’s drink and take a deep swig.
“That bad?” Eric asks.
I set the cup down. Has Evie told him about Jen? “I’m rusty is all.”
Evie gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m proud of you for trying.”
I rub my forehead, willing the blossoming headache to go away. “Thanks.” Two more women. If I can push through two more, I can go home and spend the rest of the night on my rock.
I steal another sip of liquid courage. “I’m going to try again.”
“I’m here if you need me,” Evie says.
As much as she wants me to date and not just dance, I know if I tell her I’m done, she’ll stop. Evie’s a pusher, but not controlling.
Across the dance floor is a blonde woman who looks closer to my age than Faith. Taking a few minutes to study her without flat-out staring, I conclude that she’s not here with a man.
Shaking out my hands under the table, I stand and cross the dance floor. Concentrating on my breathing, I snake around couples until I reach her table. “Hey,” I say, standing in front of her. “Would you like to dance?”
Before Jen, my moves were smoother. I’d compliment a woman, flirt a little, then ask her to join me on the dance floor. This bluntness is new. Heck, everything I’m doing is new.
“No pick-up lines?” she asks.
I shrug. “I’m all out of those.”
She laughs. It’s pleasant, but doesn’t strike a desire to do whatever I can to hear it again.
“I can’t tell you how refreshing that is.” She stands, following me.
We face one another. Dancing isn’t my thing. It’s ridiculous I’m doing this. Everyone is probably watching, laughing at the old guy trying to be young. Another scorching round of heat burns my neck and chest. It’s a good thing it’s hot in here and the sweat beading down my back can be blamed on the temperature. “I’m Bennett,” I say, trying to take my mind off what I’m doing for a second time.
“Vivian.”
Her navy dress is tight at the top, but flares out around her thighs. It sways as she moves. “Where are you from?” I ask.
“Pennsylvania. This is my first time at Lake Lloyd. A friend of mine came here last year with her husband and told me how charming it was. My sister and I came to check it out.”
I like how she keeps her distance and speaks in a normal tone, unlike Faith who clearly was interested in a different kind of dance. This is nice, but I’m not experiencing any urgency to be around her again.
I’m zero for two. “My grandparents own a house here. I’ve come every summer since I was born.”
“Oh, I love that! I wish I had someplace to go every year.”
“I can’t imagine not being here.” Even growing up with sports and camps, the majority of my summers were on Lake Lloyd.
“I’m loving it so far.”
The song changes to another slow dance. I’m not enjoying myself, but I’m also not as panicked as I was with Faith. My arms go to her waist, but I barely rest (rather graze) my palms on her sides. I don’t want to give Vivian any ideas. “What have you done while you’ve been here?”
Vivian doesn’t inch closer, touch my hair, or do anything else but answer my question. “I went hiking and kayaking, but that’s it. What hidden treasures should we go see?”
“Make sure you stop by Scoop’s and Linda’s downtown. If you like waterfalls, about half an hour north of here is a hike that will end at a waterfall with a pool you can swim in.”
She readjusts her fingers resting on my shoulder. “I’ll look into that. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
We make small talk as we finish up the song. Knowing this isn’t going anywhere, I wish her a fun rest of her stay and safe travels home. At the table with my family, I stay seated for a while, listening to them talk about activities they want to do in the upcoming days, life back at home, and what drinks to get next.
Evie’s so caught up in Eric, she doesn’t talk to me either. Sitting here, seeing how fun and carefree my brothers and cousins are, I wish I were still like them. That I could let loose and live in the moment.
Once upon a time, I was just like them.
More than ever, I’m feeling my age. Our life experiences separate us. I’ve changed.
Ready to get this last dance over with, I choose the closest woman I can find. There’s nothing physically about her that puts me off, but there’s also nothing that stands out. For the sake of the experiment, I should find a partner I find attractive. But I’m ready to leave, so she’s who I’m working with.
I tap on the shoulder of the brunette. She’s wearing denim cut-offs and an oversized shirt that hangs off one shoulder. Though I’m not in the mood for smooth talk or flirting, I try with her. I’m going all in with my effort so when I tell Mom and Evie it’s a no-go, my conscience is clear. “Hey.”
She jumps, whipping around to face me. “Oh. Hi.”
“I like your outfit.”
She fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Thanks.”
I smile seductively. “But do you want to know what you’d look really beautiful in?”
She puts a hand on her hip at the same time her brows rise and her head cocks to the side. I’m obviously not doing a great job of flirting.
“What?” she asks.
“My arms.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Wow. I’ve heard a lot of awful pick-up lines before. I think that was one of the worst.”
I hold back a wince, refusing to let her words affect me. This whole experience is like wrecking a motorcycle, skidding on asphalt, then having to pluck rocks from my skin without pain meds. “Are you saying you don’t want to find out then?” I’m using a teasing, flirty voice that sounds like me from ten years ago.
“I don’t need a man to make me feel beautiful.”
I’m kicking myself for not being pickier. Just dance with me, woman, so I can go home! “What if I need you to make me feel better?”
“Now, that I can believe.” She takes my hand, pulling me to the dance floor.
After spending a minute in her company, she’s moved from the “I’m indifferent” to “I could find her cute” category.
But since this is happening after I met the love of my life, this relationship is D.O.A. As cliché as it is, it’s not because of her. It’s me.
My hand stays in hers as we dance, but there’s no physical reaction. I’m dead inside. I do my best to keep up with the conversation, but all I really care about is leaving.
Tonight’s proven I’m not ready to move on.