Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Liaden
He’d here.
H e’s sitting right next to me.
And that’s where he stays while we all drink and talk and cheer on strangers singing Spandau Ballet and The Human League.
He contributes to the conversation here and there, and sips his beer slowly instead of chugging it.
In fact, all his movements are careful, almost economical, as though he’s under rigid control.
But the way he looks at me, warm and intent and focused, is wilder.
It tears into me and pulls out great handfuls of new feelings, knowing he’s pushing through his anxieties to be here.
I’m not unaware of how momentous that is.
And if I was in any doubt, the looks the Wishbone gang are giving each other when they think I’m not looking speak volumes.
And, as exciting and immensely flattering his presence is, it’s also somehow very grounding to have him sitting within touching distance from me. A missing piece of this evening’s puzzle is back in place, and now I fit, too. Now I belong.
I feel like everyone else has been white noise throughout my life, but Dean is tuned into a frequency I can hear .
Sadie has to pull on my arm to get me to join her and Emily so the three of us can perform The Edge of Seventeen in honour of Queen Stevie, but even then, during girl time, my eyes keep wandering back to him.
To his rumpled clothes and untidy mop of hair and hesitant smile.
I turn it on a little but as I sing, wanting to impress him without obnoxiously outshining the girls.
Emily unabashedly can’t sing, hardly a note hitting the right key, but simply enjoys herself in a way that can’t be anything but endearing.
Sadie has a husky come-to-bed voice, and - hello - draws soft looks from Leo.
Makes total sense. They fit. I wonder if she’s aware of his feelings for her? In fairness, I’ve only just noticed myself, and he is remarkably adept at smothering his expressions.
Once my first ever Squad Goals Moment is over, I sit next to Dean again, wishing I could think of a valid reason to take his hand in mine without pushing things too far.
He has the long, nimble fingers of a guitar player or pianist, and I shift in my seat as thoughts of those fingers on my skin - trailing lightly, clutching, scratching, smoothing - tear through my head, making me hot and flushed.
I bite my lip as I feel the gentle electric shocks of arousal thrum through me.
My daydream is mercifully interrupted by Leo getting up and having a word with the host, whose name escapes me. In a few seconds the unmistakable intro bars of Man in Motion by John Parr fills the bar. Leo has an excellent singing voice, rich and deep and ninety nine percent note perfect.
But that makes up only half of his performance.
I suddenly understand why the host was so reluctant to let Leo take part, and why Leo gave him a fistful of cash upfront to offset against any damages.
He doesn’t just sing the song. He gives it everything he has, standing on chairs until they tip, dancing like he’s the bastard son of Joey Tribbiani and Johnny Castle, lying on tables and slithering up them on his back, making everyone hurry to move their drinks.
Sadie films his escapades on her mobile, heckling him and cheering him on along with most of the other punters.
He kisses Emily’s cheek as he passes her, and she can’t stop laughing.
The whole scene is so funny that even Dean is laughing next to me…
and oh, my, that’s a wonderful sight indeed.
So wonderful that when Leo passes me, I crook my finger at him until we can share the mic and I can sing a few lines with him, making us both laugh.
Dean suddenly stands next to me and air guitars like Hendrix, nimble fingers dancing as his face contorts in mock concentration.
He’s joining in , as best he can, and he grins like a man with no worries in the world.
Leo points at him, announcing in the mic that “The air guitar champion of the world has arrived”, and applauds him, a smattering of other punters joining in.
Leo and I high five, and then he’s continuing the song himself, standing on another table…
…which collapses under him with a loud splintering noise, sending him clattering to the floor.
There are some gasps of alarm, and Eli rushes over to check on him, but he quickly rolls his eyes as Leo sits up like Michael Myers, resuming the song without so much as a wince of pain. The host counts out the bank notes he was given earlier with a forlorn sigh.
Leo is given a rolling thunder of applause for his efforts, which he receives with a bow and a happy grin. He doesn’t need much persuasion from us and the other punters to pick up the mic again a few songs later, after some singers of varying qualities have had their turn.
We all burst out laughing when I’m Your Man by Wham!
starts up, and Leo feeds off the amusement of the crowd, nabbing an empty plate from a stranger’s table and using it like a tambourine.
His George Michael impersonation is on point.
The first time he sings the words, I’m your man , he points at Sadie, who’s got tears of laughter pouring down her face.
The second time, he points at Emily. When he looks away and starts serenading another table, we all exchange looks much like the ones they were giving each other about me and Dean when they thought I wasn’t looking.
Sadie remains oblivious, filming Leo attentively and cheering him on.
I glance at Dean again, expecting to see him chuckling like me, but he’s not.
There’s sweat trickling down his face, and he has a death grip on his glass and the table, his knuckles white.
His right leg, the one furthest from me, is jiggling up and down, and he has a very fixed smile as he watches Leo sing to a pretty woman a few tables away, and then to the disgruntled looking man with her.
It’s OK, though; he sits in the guy’s lap and cajoles a laugh from him by pulling some Frank-n-Furter dance moves.
I reach over and touch Dean’s arm as gently as I can, but he still jumps, jerking his head to face me and visibly forcing himself to calm down.
Are you OK? I sign. He nods his head once and offers me a weak smile. I’m not fooled. He’s trembling, and trying to suppress it. It hurts to see him so anxious, and I feel a strong need to pull him back into the headspace he was in a few minutes ago, when he was relaxed and having fun.
I can do this. I can be fun and engaging enough to distract him from whatever is bothering him.
Watch me , I tell him.
As Leo finishes WHAM!, I hold my hand out for the mic and head to the tracks folder. Thankfully, the song I want is available. I’ve sung it a lot in pub gigs, so I know it back to front and inside out. My version is a little more hard rock, but I can work this.
As Listen To Your Heart by Roxette starts up, I smile. “This is an old favourite for one of my new favourites,” I quip, winking at Dean. He looks marginally less pale, and he chuckles as Leo and Sadie whoop. I have his attention. Good. I need to keep it.
So, as I belt Roxette out, I take a leaf out of Leo’s book, albeit without dancing on tables until they collapse.
I dance, I toss my hair, I sing my heart out to make him think of something better than whatever is making him jittery.
For the second verse, I drag an all too willing Leo to the front and get him to join in because he’s such a crowd pleaser.
He kicks it up a notch, his growly voice making it more like my usual rock cover, and we make a good duo.
Our voices suit each other, and we have everyone’s undivided attention.
But all I care about is Dean’s.
Leo and I get a standing ovation, and obviously that’s flattering, but the part that means the most to me is that Dean is no longer shaking. He’s been watching me with total focus, and I can’t look away as I walk back to my seat next to him.
Under the table, where no-one can see, I feel something touch my fingertips, startling me.
I look down, and his fingers are gently travelling up mine, slowly lacing them together until our palms are pressed together and he squeezes lightly.
The warmth from his hand travels through my arm, right to my heart, and I feel like I just won a Nobel Prize.
Nothing else exists to me right now. Not my new friends, not the applause, not the complimentary Cosmopolitan the host placed in front of me that I’ve neglected.
Just him. Just his touch, outside of the parlour, simply because he chooses to and not because he has to.
This is more than mere attraction, certainly for me.
This could be everything .
Even though he took my hand out of everyone’s line of sight, he keeps hold of it as we leave once our drinks are finished.
Eli had suggested making tracks, with a conspiratorial nod to me, by pointing out the time and suggesting we quit while we’re ahead.
Everyone got the hint, and agreed readily.
I have a feeling he was keeping an eye on Dean from the moment he arrived, and it looks like I might have gone a long way towards winning Eli over while he watched over him.
He’s got his hands full with Leo right now, anyway. While the Karaoke King isn’t drunk, he’s definitely merry enough to make him a little more rambunctious than I’ve seen him before.
“You’re not getting out of this,” Leo says, one arm slung around Sadie and one around me. Everyone seems to be carefully ignoring that my fingers are discreetly intertwined with Dean’s behind our backs. “Not taking a ‘no’ from you. We’re celebrating your engagement, end of discussion.”
Eli makes a growling sound. “I don’t want a bachelor party,” he mutters.
“Correction: you don’t want a sleazy bachelor party with coke and hookers.
But a meal out with your buddies? Come on .
There’s no reason to say no.” He clicks his fingers.
“Better yet, a proper N’awlins barbecue at Casa de Leo.
You, me, Dean, whoever else you want to celebrate getting the whole marriage thing right this time with Embo. It’s happening. Accept it.”
Eli sighs with amused irritation. “Fine, fine, fine, FINE. But no - ”
“Leo style shenanigans,” Leo says in unison with him. “Got it. No-one will burst out of your cake, no celebrity lookalikes, no naked waitresses, no gorillagrams.”
I peer around him. “Split a cab with you?” I offer Sadie.
She glances at Dean. “Sure.”
My hand is squeezed lightly, and he looks down at me with a softness that makes me squirm in the best way. Thank you, he mouths at me. I rest my head against his shoulder, wondering how he’ll respond, and can’t stop smiling when his head rests against mine.
We’re getting there.
“So, while the boys are having a very grown up and mature barbecue, how about the three of us have a girl’s night in?” Sadie suggests. “Low key hen night, I’ll bring the bolly?”
“Yay!” Emily claps her hands quietly. Both agree that’s a good plan, and I’m relieved. “I’ve never been to a sleepover before, so shall we make a night of it? I have plenty of room.”
“ Never?! ” Sadie asks incredulously, and I shake my head. “Right, that’s happening. Facepacks, chick flicks, hair braiding, talking about boys…”
“And pillow fights, right?” Leo pipes up, and she swats his arm.
“Men and pillow fights, what’s that about?
” Sadie asks me, rolling her eyes in amusement.
My eyes travel to Dean, and he has a tiny, naughty grin that makes me want to jump him.
The knowledge that he’s enjoying a semi-naughty thought about me having a pillow fight causes a fizzing sensation in my loins.
If that’s his kink, I’ll wear my best teddy and smack everyone here with a pillow until they’re spitting feathers.
Leo suddenly whistles up a taxi with his thumb and forefinger in his mouth. I’ve always wished I could do that, but I’ve never managed it.
My heart sinks. I wish I could stay next to Dean all night.
I feel certain that his thank you was about more than the song.
I think he’s reached his limit for socialising tonight, and although his hand holds mine a little tighter when the cab approaches, he’s already pushed himself a long way this evening, and it’s best not to overdo it.
Just holding his hand is a huge leap, and I know it.
I say a friendly goodbye to everyone, and am grateful when they turn their backs and talk among themselves so I can have a private moment with Dean.
“See you soon?” I sound more openly hopeful than is usually considered to be cool and confident, but fuck that. Authenticity and radical honesty has value, too, and from what he’s said about liking how unfiltered I am, I think he’ll respond better to that.
He nods, smiling at me, and then…oh my god…he leans down, and I close my eyes as he kisses the top of my head, lingering and… smelling my hair .
And when I get in the cab, he holds my hand for as long as possible, fingers trailing as I’m driven away.
It’s my turn to quiver.