5. Lyra
What are the odds? Gina was insistent on bringing me here to have a drink and enjoy the live music. She loves it. Her husband Wayne”s family owns it. Taran comes here, though? It seems like he”s everywhere since the day I met him. Gina elbows me, because I”m just standing here staring at him dumbfounded. Taran”s mouth is barely holding back a smile before he asks, “What are you doing here, Lyra?” Gina jumps in with undisguised pride. “My in-laws own this place. I brought her here to cheer her up. I heard you hugged it out with her when you saw her upset.” Taran”s eyes flit between us, clearly unsure whether he is in trouble or not. Finally I find my voice. “Thank you for that, Taran. It meant a lot.” Gina, going for her usual subtlety, backs away saying, “I’m going to see if my brother-in-law is here to say hello, you two have fun.” Then she freaking winks at me before she turns away. I look over to Taran, who is staring at me with both amusement and wariness.
“Sorry, she”s as discreet as a bulldozer,” I tell him to try to bring some levity. He chuckles. It”s a little worrying how much I like the sound. I”m trying to be subtle in taking him in without his uniform. The shirt he is wearing has short sleeves, giving me more of a view of his well muscled arms than I’ve seen before. A little bit of ink peaks out from the sleeve on his right arm, and I’m intrigued. Tattoos are my absolute weakness. I don”t feel right asking about such a personal thing yet, though. The way his jeans mold to his legs should be illegal. Fuck, I need to stop panting over this man like a horny teenager, it”s insane.
“I don”t mind being alone with you, Lyra. Not at all.”
My heart thrums wildly at that, but the stupid inner voice that is always there is telling me to not believe him. I”m not quite sure how to respond, but I know I didn”t like the feeling when he left earlier. So I go with some honesty to smooth things over.
“Listen, I”m sorry if I came off as nasty when you left my house earlier.” This is so not easy, but he deserves this. I”m looking anywhere but at him. “I was pretty raw and upset when you came to the door, and I went cold by the time you left.” When I finally look at him for a response, he gives me a soft smile. “I’m sorry too, if I overstepped. I just didn”t like seeing you that upset.”
Who is this guy? I was bitchy and he is actually worried he overstepped? Women can have boundaries? Not only that, but he’s handsome, kind, charming, and loves dogs. If someone hasn’t already pulled his DNA from a hairbrush or something to start cloning him, I want to be the first. “You didn”t overstep. You”ve been nothing but nice to me, not to mention my dog.” It is getting more and more embarrassing to talk about this. I feel myself going a little red in the cheeks, staring at my shifting feet on the floor.
In a way that makes me feel like he actually sees me starting to spiral, he abruptly asks, “Do you like to dance?”
That snaps my head up to look at him, searching his face for a joke or insincerity. I don”t find anything of the kind. His face is open and almost hopeful. “I love dancing. You like to dance?” My tone is somewhere between incredulous and dubious. He gives me one of his blinding smiles. “It”s one of my favorite things. How about we leave whatever made you so upset out on the dance floor?”
He offers me his hand, and before my mind can catch up with my body, I”m taking it. My breath catches a little as he brings me into a hold, the heat and hard lines of his body making mine light up like a Christmas tree. One hand is firmly on the small of my back, while the other holds mine as we begin the steps. The band is still playing a faster cumbia. I”ve hung around Wayne”s family enough to be able to hold my own, but Taran is a whole new revelation. We”re not completely pressed together, but he”s holding me close enough to easily lead me. Feeling his shoulder and arm muscles rippling underneath my palms, and the strong way they hold me is dangerously amazing. Our hips and feet fall into an easy rhythm, and I find myself melting into him. This. This is exactly what I need. It feels so incredibly good to get out of my loud thoughts, and let the music completely take over my body. This is why I love dancing. It was therapy for me growing up, and the perfect way to express myself.
I look at Taran, and he”s looking at me with this pure joy on his face. He leans in close so I can hear him over the band.
“You”re an incredible dancer, Lyra!” I can”t help but give him a smile at the obviously genuine compliment.
“Not as good as you.”
He shakes his head in denial. “Have you taken lessons?”
“From when I was 5 up through college,” I tell him. “I did all kinds. Tap, jazz, ballet, modern, lyrical, hula, Maori, flamenco, you name it.”
“Of course you did,” he says with that gorgeous smile, shaking his head like he”s somehow amazed by me.
“What about you?” I need to know how he moves so well. We”re inching even closer together now to talk. It”s close enough that the most tantalizing combination of warm spice and clean linen fills my nose. He smells way too good.
“I grew up doing Irish dancing, and joined the dance team in High School. Carlo and his family taught me cumbia.” I mirror his amazed head shake back at him.
The band switches to a softer, slower song, and Taran raises an eyebrow at me in question. I hesitate, then just tell myself, “fuck it,” and nod. I let him pull me closer, and we start swaying to the slow, sensual rhythm. We fit together so perfectly, even though he”s almost a foot taller than me. I pull back just a little to look up at Taran, and he”s watching me intently. He opens his mouth, closes it, seems to weigh his words, and then opens it again as he leans in close, his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear. “Lyra, I know you said I”d have better luck elsewhere, so if I”m being pushy you have every right to kick my ass. I”m also not sure what your situation is. What I am sure of is that I like talking to you, and want to get to know you better. I”d love to take you out some time if you”d be interested.”
My body shivers a little of its own accord with his breath tickling my ear. I try and take a beat to gather my muddled thoughts, without making him wait forever and feeling rejected. Because I don”t want to reject him, I just can”t do anything romantic with another man at this moment in my life.
“I like you too, Taran. So my situation is this: My ex-husband and I separated over a month ago, and we”re working through our divorce.” I search his face for judgment or disgust, or anything at the fact that I”ll be divorced soon. He”s only studying me though, and listening, so I go on. “I’m not really emotionally ready to be romantic with anyone right now, honestly. It would also not be right for me to start anything until the divorce is final.” I”m not mentioning yet that Derek went ahead and started a couple of major things before the ink was dry; I want to be the better person here. He”s still simply watching me, waiting for me to continue like he can hear the “but” in my last statement. There”s no hint of anger, or exasperation that I don”t want to date yet. “If it would be ok with you, could we start slow? Hang out a little and get to know each other? Become friends?”
“I’d like that,” he replies earnestly.
“You don”t care that I”m about to be divorced? Or that I must be significantly older than you?”
He shrugs. “Not at all. As long as you don”t care that I”m younger and have never been in a serious relationship, since we”re going for transparency.”
“How old are you anyway, Taran?”
“28. That”s not too young, I hope?”
8 years younger, and he”s never been in a serious relationship at 28. This should be red flag central, but if he”s not going to judge me, then it”s a bit early and unfair to judge him. Hopefully I can get to the bottom of why this seemingly perfect, charming, gorgeous man hasn”t been in a serious relationship as I get to know him. The walls are standing firm until then. I am not going to misjudge a situation as badly as I did with Derek ever again, so help me. As we continue to dance close, slowly swaying, I mirror his shrug and words back to him.
“Not at all, as long as 36 isn”t too old for you.” He smiles and shakes his head in answer. Then I add for emphasis, “Too old for a friend, I should say.”
“Obviously,” he returns, but his expression is knowing. Mischievous. He leans in a little closer, breath warm on my ear, and adds, “Let”s not forget who checked out who first though, yeah?”
“No getting cocky on me, or this friendship is revoked,” I tell him sternly.
“I wouldn”t dream of it. I won”t get cocky with you until you say so,” his innuendo blatant as he grins.
“I’m immediately regretting my word choice and this friendship,” I grouse, but there”s not much behind it, because I”m trying not to laugh at his dirty mind.
“In all seriousness, Lyra, friendship and nothing else until you say so. I want to get to know you first,” he says, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know you must be going through it right now, and I”m happy to just be a friend to you if you need it.” I search his face closely, and it”s pure earnestness. The mischief is gone, he”s being entirely solemn and serious in this moment.
This feels like a dance within a dance, a call and answer as we start the process of feeling each other out. I”m not going to lie, I feel rusty and old after 9 years of being done with this dance. Do I even remember how to do this anymore? The music picks up pace again, and he reluctantly releases me from our swaying.
“Want a drink, since you never got one after that guy got in your face?”
“Sure, Gina drove here, so I can have a drink or two.”
We make our way over to the bar, where Gina is talking to her brother-in-law Gage. She sees us and waves, giving me the goofiest smile and thumbs up. Taran catches it and chuckles.
“I like her. How long have you been friends?”
“Over 25 years. We went to school together and she has always had my back. Every rough patch in my life, she”s been there for me. I”d be lost without her.”
“That”s like Carlo for me. We met in High School, and he helped me through the worst time of my entire life.”
I look at him, getting more and more curious about who he is behind his gorgeous smiles and effortless charm. Everyone has a story and hidden depths, and the pain in his voice when he says that has me brought up short.
“Since we”re becoming friends, I hope sometime you”ll trust me enough to tell me about that worst time in your life. You said you want to be there for me, to get to know me, and that goes both ways. I’ve already been a crying mess in front of you, for goodness sake,” I tell him quietly as I bump his shoulder. I”m going to be direct though. If he wants to get to know me, he has to reveal just as much about himself. Fair is fair, after all.
“It”s not easy for me to talk about, but I don”t mind talking about it with you soon. Let”s just have fun tonight, though. We left our worries out on the dance floor and we should keep it that way for now. I won”t bug you to tell me about what made you cry today either yet,” he replies, placing his hand on my shoulder with a soft smile.
The bartender comes over at that point and says, “Gage wants me to get you anything you”d like, on the house.” I look over at Gina and Gage, shaking my head at them. They both shrug, making identical goofy and hopeful faces. I”ve only met Gage a few times at family dinners, but he’s a fantastic guy. Apparently Gina has brought him up to speed, and he”s going to meddle too. Fantastic. I mouth “thank you” to them, and order a margarita. Taran orders a water, no doubt because he needs to drive home soon. Not that I would question anyone who didn”t want to drink alcohol.
“How did my favorite dog like daycare today?” he asks, switching to lighter subjects. My smile is involuntary at how invested Taran is in Brody. It”s a huge box ticked in his favor that he”s a fellow animal lover. I can”t help teasing him a little, though.
“You only want to be friends with me because of my dog, don”t you?”
He winks. That goddamn wink is going to be the death of me. “How did you figure me out?” he teases back.
I laugh. “He seriously did great, he was so exhausted from running around when I picked him up. I fed him dinner, and he was passed out when Gina and I left. You seem to love dogs, do you have one at home that”s your actual favorite?”
He shakes his head. “With how long my days are, and not having a yard, it wouldn”t be right. Hopefully I”ll be in a position to have one at some point in the near future, I”d love to adopt a rescue or two.”
I nod in understanding, and then we lapse into companionable silence for a minute while we sip our drinks. I slide a glance over the other way, and Gina is still sitting with Gage, sipping water and watching us like a hawk. She shoots me an encouraging smile again, then turns to say something to Gage. He looks at us and smiles too before turning his attention back to the paperwork in front of him.
“They”re still watching us aren”t they?” Taran asks, breaking our brief silence.
“Yep. They”re shameless, but I love them,” I reply. “Gina also has always been a bit of a momma bear about me even though I”m two months older than her, so I”d watch your back.”
“Noted,” he chuckles. “I’m glad she has your back, everyone needs that.”
“I don”t have much family, and none nearby, so she, her husband, and their two kids are my family here. I adore her in-laws too.”
“I just have my mom around here, so I get it. Carlo and his family basically adopted me.”
That brings me up short once again. The curiosity in me about him keeps growing. I don”t want to push him further though, partly because I”m too stunned at how well we already understand each other”s family situations. So I just nod again in acknowledgement and echo his words. “I’m really glad they have your back, too.”
We go on like that for another hour, talking about simple things like work and pets. Amongst the dancing, music, and general noise, it feels like we’re in a private bubble. Our legs are touching, we brush hands reaching for our glasses, and nothing can tear our attention away from each other. I normally can”t stand sitting at a bar and socializing with someone I barely know. With him though, it”s easy. He”s so effortlessly charming and funny, and he doesn”t make me feel like I”m abnormal or difficult. Does he even pick up on my differences, or is he one of the few that sees past them? My normally ever present social anxiety is laying low. It”s still there, but I”m much more able to be present and not get lost in my head about whether this is going well, whether he likes me, agonizing over being awkward or saying the wrong things, and the hundred other loud thoughts. I”m actually able to converse like a real human being. Maybe it’s because he”s already seen me upset and angry, and still seems to like me? He”s already cracked the mask I always feel like I need to put up, and he”s still here flirting with me and shooting his shot. I might already be completely fucked when it comes to him. It”s scary as anything how easily he has brought some of my walls down, and I”m not sure I”ll be able to handle it if I”m once again left in the rubble. I need to be so much more careful this time around. After that hour of talking, we are both stifling yawns after our long days. Taran holds out his phone to me unlocked.
“Want to exchange numbers? I”ll text you this week, especially if I have a delivery of work to give you, so you have some warning.”
“A warning about incoming work will always be welcome,” I tell him, as I take his phone and plug my number in with a small smile. I don”t tell him that marketing usually gives me a heads up that materials are coming for review. We both know it”s just an excuse to text, anyway. He”s grinning as I give him his phone back, then I see him quickly type in something. A second later, my phone pings with a text from him.
I’m really glad you ended up on my route, Lyra
So I shoot back:
I am too, Taran
We smile at each other before a quick hug goodbye, an exchange of goodnights, and asking each other to text that we got home ok. As soon as he leaves, Gina is at my side demanding I repeat every word spoken. She is giddy listening to it, like we”re back in high school over analyzing every conversation with boys we like. When she keeps looking at me with her ridiculously hopeful smile the entire time she drives me home, I tell her to quit it or I”m sending her all of the pizza with extra olives.