8. Party of Two
CHAPTER 8
PARTY OF TWO
COLIN
“ W ere the unicorns necessary?” I ask Stuart as he straightens an inflatable one in the corner of the small ballroom he rented for the anniversary party. A large banner spans the space with the words, “Here’s to Another Five Years!”
“I think they add a bit of class,” he says with a grin.
We’re just outside of Wavecrest at the Cliffside Resort and Spa, a hotel that’s been part of the local landscape for at least forty years. Rumor has it that this is the place Zane was supposed to get married but didn’t.
Stuart asked me to get here early to help him with a little setup. “I can’t get over the suit, man. You clean up nice.” Stuart claps me on the shoulder.
“Thanks. You, too.” He’s wearing suspenders of course, but with a bow tie and pink tuxedo shirt. “When’s Meredith getting here?” Stuart melts at my question. I’ve watched those two fall harder and harder for each other over the last few months, and honestly, I’m a little jealous.
Not that I have a thing for Meredith. I don’t, even though I appreciate the audio engineer’s spiky personality. She’s like Gonzo—takes a while to warm up to strangers. Except Joanie...Gonzo loves Joanie because my cat is smarter than most humans.
“People should start arriving soon. I hope Sylvie and Will like it.” Sylvie owns The Base, and her husband Will is an active member. I’d bet good money that they’ve had sex in every room at some point. I’ve seen him stumble out of Sylvie’s office with a dopey grin more times than I’d like to remember.
The doors to the ballroom open, and people start streaming in. I recognize a ton of colleagues and Wavecrest locals. Servers in neat black shirts begin passing around trays of champagne and tiny bites of food, but my attention stays on the door.
Stuart walks off to mingle, but not before elbowing me. “She’ll be here.” I don’t even bother responding or denying who I’m waiting for. I smooth a shaking hand over my tie.
We’ve hung out almost every day for the last few weeks. Why would this evening be any different? It’s just like Foggy’s but with nicer clothes and no karaoke. The anniversary party isn’t black tie...far from it...there’s someone here in a baseball jersey and Crocs. But most people are dressed up in cocktail dresses and suits.
I make my way to a group of people surrounding Sylvie and Will but keep an eye on the door. Where is she? I try to pay attention to the conversation. Carla cracks a joke about Mars always breaking the coffee maker, which makes the poor guy dip his head and smile. Ivy lays a quick hand on his forearm as she giggles, and I watch a fierce blush race up his face.
Mars and I should form a Men Who Crush On Their Coworkers support group. Stuart can be our inspiration.
I’m listening to Sylvie talk about how she decided to leave her job in San Francisco before she opened The Base when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. They’ve been doing that whenever I’m within fifty feet of Joanie, so I turn.
And there she is. Standing in the doorway, smiling at the people close by, like it’s no big deal that my ability to breathe has failed me. Her hair’s out of its usual bun, a riot of waves and curls around her shoulders. Her bare shoulders, heaven help me. Her emerald green dress hits just past her knees and looks to be held up with thoughts and prayers. Women’s clothing is nothing short of a miracle.
I want to touch the textured fabric. I want my hand around her waist all evening. But friends don’t do that. Friends don’t swallow their tongues at the sight of their friend in a stunning dress.
Joanie spots me staring, and I don’t have it in me to act cool. My cool left the moment she entered the room. I feel an elbow in my ribs and wince. Carla serves me a wicked little smile. Considering she sits near Joanie and I during the work week she’s probably not surprised at my reaction. “If you don’t go talk to her right this moment, I will drag you over there myself.” Carla’s using her mom voice and frankly it’s terrifying.
I stumble over my feet as I make my way over. Joanie takes a couple of steps in my direction, a beaming smile on her face. “Colin, look at you. You’re so...gah, so...” She waves her hand up and down my body.
“Thanks?” She shakes her head and lets loose a disbelieving laugh. I pull up a pant leg to show her the new pair of Chuck’s I’m wearing. I gave up dress shoes a long time ago.
She rolls her eyes at me and smacks my shoulder, and I feel some of the tension leave me. This is still Joanie, just wrapped in a fancy package.
“You look gorgeous, Shark. Does the dress have pockets?” My cheeks hurt from how wide my smile is.
She gasps. “You stole my line. I wanted to do that whole little curtsy people do when they say, ‘Thanks, it has pockets.’ Now I feel robbed.”
I extend my arm to her. “Let me make it up to you then. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“A free drink?” She’s done some pencil wizardry to her eyebrows, which I notice as she lifts a sardonic one at me.
“The best kind.”
And now I have the beautiful, talented, funny Joanie Ferrell on my arm, and I feel like I could take on the world. Stand tall and face any demons that come my way. I feel invincible.
Her hand stays tucked in my elbow as we make our way to the group still hovering around Sylvie and Will. Joanie grabs a glass of champagne off a passing tray and takes a long sip. I’m so distracted by the way her throat moves when she swallows that I almost run into an inflatable unicorn at the edge of the dance floor.
She giggles, giving the unicorn a little shove like she’s protecting my honor. Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out the theme of this party. It’s like the interior of Stuart’s brain exploded inside Cliffside’s ballroom. There are unicorns and a photo booth, the food is a mix of Hawaiian luau and Spanish tapas, and the music goes from ragtime jazz to hip hop to seventies yacht rock. Every detail is exuberant, and the guests are eating it up.
I give Stuart a fist bump when we reach the group. He’s got his arm around Meredith’s waist as she leans into him. She spots Joanie’s hand tucked in my elbow and gives me a look that says I’ll be getting shit for this later.
And I can’t seem to make myself care.
Throughout the evening Joanie and I separate to mingle and chat with our favorite Wavecrest people, but somehow we keep ending up in each other’s orbit, her hand on my arm each time.
With every person we talk to, I want to shout, “Are you seeing this?” Like I can’t believe she’s standing next to me, touching me, and I need other people to confirm it’s not a dream. Even if it’s only friendly affection, I can’t believe my luck.
The DJ plays a series of pop songs from the last four decades and the dance floor floods with people shaking their money makers. I look around for Joanie and spot her at a table chatting with Rocky, the owner of Coastline Books.
Stuart and Sylvie drag me out to the middle of the crowd. Stuart shouts, “I’ve seen your moves at karaoke. Don’t claim you can’t dance.”
Oh, I can dance. The music turns even more upbeat, and I end up tossing my suit jacket onto a random chair and getting in the middle of what’s become a mass of dancing, jumping, bumping bodies.
I close my eyes and dance. The music and champagne flowing through me, everybody’s collective joy lifting me. I move my body in ways it hasn’t moved in years. I’ll feel it tomorrow, but right now is perfect magic.
And then I feel the hand on my arm, and I open my eyes. Joanie . She’s beaming up at me, dancing and jumping along to the music, laughing with her whole body. Fuck, she’s perfect. This moment is perfect. I want to kiss her more than I want to breathe. And she sees it. Her eyes flicker to my lips, and mine do the same, and the music fades. Or maybe it doesn’t. I couldn’t tell you either way.
She moves closer, pressing herself to me, and my arms wrap around her waist, pulling her into me. I feel her suck in a breath and the hair on the back of my neck stands up at the sound. Other things do too, but I’ll think about that later.
Right now I want to dance with Joanie and kiss her and then dance some more. The tiny logical part of my brain that’s still in command reminds me that we’re surrounded by friends and colleagues on a dance floor at a party. Not alone, not in a place where we can explore what’s happening, what’s going to happen.
The music shifts to something slightly slower. A groan goes up from the crowd and half the dance floor clears. But I’m still here, holding her. And then the best thing happens. She wraps her arms around my neck, brushes her lips across my cheek in the softest, sweetest way, and lays her head on my chest. And then we sway. I wonder if she can hear my heart hammering in my chest. I can certainly feel it everywhere.
I keep my lips pressed to the top of her head, breathing her in. I tighten my hold and hope this song goes on forever. But it doesn’t, and when it ends, I feel a little lost until Joanie grabs my hand and drags me towards the large photo booth set up in the corner of the ballroom.
Inside, we’re breathless, hidden behind a half curtain. She pushes a button that starts a countdown timer, and before I can think about what it means to have my picture taken and have Joanie see me on film, she gently pushes me to the seat and sits on my lap.
All thought leaves my head when she kisses my cheek again as the flash goes off. I’ll probably look like I’ve been struck by lightning. I turn towards her, and there’s a split second where everything stops. And then she touches the tip of her nose to mine, making my heart knock against my ribs. Flash. I suck in a breath because these sweet touches are destroying me in the best way. The slow build of something makes my body tight with anticipation. I have to keep myself from sealing my lips to hers and never coming up for air.
But my bold Joanie jumps right in and presses her lips to mine. Flash. A jolt of desire shoots from my head to my feet and I wrap my hand around the back of her neck. She sighs into the kiss, and I want more of her little noises. More of the feel of her in my arms. More of everything.
Before we can take it further, her warm breath ghosts across my lips as she pulls back, brushing her nose against mine one more time. The kiss is over before I’m ready, but this isn’t the place or time to explore her the way I want.
My chest cracks open at the sweet smile that spreads across her face.
There’s another flash and the moment is over before I have a chance to kiss her again. She brushes my hair out of my face, her eyes taking me in. I’m considering telling her everything. I want to tell her about my past, about how I feel about her now. How we could be perfect together if she doesn’t mind loving an old guy who worships her.
In the last two pictures, all I do is stare at her. She makes a funny face in one of them, but I don’t think I have control over my facial muscles anymore. I’d rather sit here with my arms around her middle, her soft curves pressed into me like they’ve always been there.
While waiting for the photos to print she ducks her head, her cheeks reddening. Almost like what happened in the photo booth stays in the photo booth. But that won’t do because once she brushed her lips against mine all bets were off.
The photos drop into the dispenser, and she grabs them. “Huh,” she says, then looks at me with her eyebrows drawn together. She glances back down at them. I know what she sees, and I panic a little.
I’m probably making a bigger deal out of this than I need to, but at this point I have no idea how she’ll react. And because I’m a coward, I decide tonight’s not the night for revelations.
“That bad?” I pull the pictures from her hand and study them. She of course looks stunning, and it’s difficult to look away from her smiling face or the way you can almost see the sparks between us. But when I look at myself, I see what she probably sees. Not only a guy who’s fully besotted, but someone familiar. Someone hidden behind a thick beard, long hair, and a few added pounds.
I grab her hand and tuck the pictures in my pocket. “We’ll sort out picture custody later,” I say as I drag her back out to the dance floor.