Page 23 of Center of Gravity
My eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t resort to desperate measures like that to get someone’s hands on me. Please. I go either very subtle or very direct, but never gimmicky.”
“So you say.” Rob gave me a long, appraising gaze that I rolled my eyes at. I pushed the wad of soggy napkins to the edge of the bar and waved to catch the bartender’s eye. When I asked for another beer, Rob interrupted with a five dollar bill.
“See, I’m not even going to say anything suggestive about you buying me a drink.”
“Good,” he said, “Because it’s just me being nice.”
But I wasn’t sure I believed the gleam in his eye. The phantom warmth of his touch lingered across my back.
Once the bartender returned with my beer, Rob slid from his stool. “I’m going to head home.”
“It’s early. Come hang out with us for a drink. Tom insists.”
“Tom? Oh, right.” Rob shot a wary glance in the direction I’d pointed.
The girls were taking shots and Tom appeared to be in the middle of another story that involved wild hand gestures. I sensed a tipping point in Rob somewhere, and I was determined to find it.
“What do you have to do tomorrow? The buckets and paintbrushes aren’t going anywhere and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to edge the ceilings.” I didn’t know why I was being so insistent, it wasn’t my style, but I liked this more relaxed, playful version of Rob. There was warmth and humor to him once he’d removed his professional-strength armor.
His mouth twisted as he considered, then said, like he was delivering a verdict, “All right, a couple of beers. Lead the way.”
I felt him behind me all the way to the table, solid and close. I’d have been lying if I’d said I didn’t want more of that.
7
Rob
I’d always found bar introductions to be among the more pointless necessities in life. Too hard to hear, and no way to follow it up with any kind of meaningful conversation. Or even casual talk of the weather. It was awkward to learn someone’s name and then begin shouting in their ear trying to be heard, so when Alex made quick introductions around the table, I gave everyone a polite, impersonal nod, already regretting my decision to come along. I forgot the names of the girls as soon as they gave them, except Emma, who stood to my left, close enough that we stood a chance of conversation. Tom tried to interest everyone in a round of shots and it turned out everyone was interested except Alex and me.
Emma shouted, “Do you mind?” and then handed me her drink as she lifted her shot glass.
I learned she was a senior studying finance, which gave us enough fodder for five minutes of conversation between song changes and shot glasses. I sensed Alex’s gaze landing on me several times and when I’d look over, I’d find his expression contemplative in a way that added a kind of maturity to his face. It was evident he was one of those rare species whose looks would improve with each passing year, and he wasn’t hurting to begin with. If I consulted the feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I caught him eyeing me, it would tell me I was interested. But of course, I already knew that. Had known that.
Eventually, he got caught up in conversation with one of the other girls, whose name I thought was Jill. Her animation was contagious and Alex was soon making wild gestures in response to hers. They laughed together. I could only guess at what they were talking about, because I sure as hell couldn’t hear it. And I didn’t need to hear Tom at all. One glance at him and…Marie? said he was committed to the long slide toward home base. Possibly a short slide if they kept pounding shots.
Tom and Marie made their way to the dance floor which, as with most bars, had a reciprocal relationship to the hour and number of drinks consumed. It was nearing eleven-thirty, and people were spilling over, a lot of sloppiness of movement and laughter and shouts that, years ago, I would have been among.
Like a chain reaction, once Tom and Marie were absorbed by gyrating bodies, Jill started tugging at Alex’s arm. The final link was Emma, who gave me a questioning, if hesitant smile before I splayed my palms open in surrender. I didn’t want to bethatguy. And besides, as Alex had said before, why not?
She could two step a little, I could waltz a lot, and my club days hadn’t completely abandoned me, either. It was like riding a bike. We shuffled and bumped around the dance floor in a rhythmic manner that wasn’t a total disgrace. Tom made out with Marie, and Alex wove in and out of my field of vision with Jill, his hands low and loose on her hips, his eyes dedicated to her lips while she spoke. Watching them got the pit of my stomach talking again. Maybe he liked her. I had no idea.
I twirled Emma and she caught herself on my shoulder, overcorrecting. We laughed as she swept at a strand of hair plastered to her cheek, her hip pressing coyly up against mine. It was nice holding onto another body again, even if it wasn’t the kind of body I wanted, and I smiled down at her, realizing that Iwasenjoying myself. It washed over me, a pleasant sensation of unwinding eased by the beers I’d had.
“You’re quiet,” she said over the music, her mouth close to my ear.
I had to duck my head and turn into the scent of perfume wafting up from her neck to be heard in return. “Kind of hard to talk in here and besides, I’m a little out of my element.”
She leaned back a bit, her eyes searching mine as she crinkled her pert little nose. She was a knockout, chestnut hair, pretty brown eyes, nice lips. “You’re a good dancer and good-looking,” she said. “Very Fassbender. I think you fit in just fine.”
“Very what?”
“Fassbender. Michael Fassbender?” It took me a second to understand the name, and then conjure up the face. I laughed. “You have a generous spirit.”
She giggled. “No, really. I mean it.” Then, she sobered, setting her jaw. “But I’m not going home with you tonight. I promised myself I wouldn’t do another one-night stand for at least a month.”
The whole conversation had taken on a kind of absurdist quality that fit the atmosphere around us.
“A whole month,” I repeated, trying for an expression of consternation. “My loss.”