Micha starts out with the song he sang in the coffeehouse, just like I asked him to do. Sweaty bodies nearly suffocate me as I sway back and forth to the music. Lila’s standing beside me, gazing at Ethan pounding on the drums like he’s the love of her life. She’s wearing a sleeveless blue shirt and jeans, along with a pair of my boots.
“You look starstruck,” I shout over the music, fanning my face with my hand, my skin already getting damp with sweat. Even though it’s cold as death outside, there’s so many people packed in the small living room, the body heat alone makes it desert hot in the house.
She shrugs, her eyes fastened on the front of the room where the guys are playing. “I think I am.”
I shake my head and then capture her hand, feeling the alcohol smother any amount of anxiety surfacing. Lila laughs as I spin her around, holding my drink in my hand, ignoring the guy who shouts at me when I accidentally ram my elbow into his gut. Lila grasps onto her drink as she twirls around, trying not to spill any. I keep spinning her until the music stops and Micha’s voice flows over the room.
“Okay, this next one was requested by the only person I’ll take requests from.” He winks at me and some girl shouts out that she’ll do whatever he wants if he sings a song for her.
I turn around, scanning the crowd for the culprit and find her at the back of the room. A tall, curvy girl with dark hair, giving me a condescending look as she takes a sip of beer. Kenzie, the waitress from the coffeehouse. Go figure.
“I think someone wants their ass kicked tonight,” I state, targeting her with a look. She went to school with me and knows what I’m capable of. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten into a fight, but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how.
Lila claps her hands and jumps up and down. “Oh my God, we should totally take her on together.” She turns to me with a smile on her face. “I’ll hold her back and you pull her hair.”
I gape at her. “Who are you?”
“Someone who wants to find out what it’s like to get in a fight.” She beams, making fists. “Come on, Ella, be my Mister Miyagi.”
“Whoa, you’re acting weird and I like it.” I tap my finger against my chin thoughtfully. “Well, first off, you don’t pull hair. That’s a girl’s way of fighting.”
“But I am a girl.”
“Yeah, but if you fight like a guy then you win. Element of surprise. It totally throws them off.”
Lila bobs her head up and down, eyeing Kenzie as she takes a swallow from the red cup in her hand. “I could see how that would work.”
“It works perfectly almost every time,” I assure her. “And if you really want to get mean you can kick—” I’m cut off by the low beat of the drums, guitar, and base mixing together in perfect unison. I turn around and face the front of the room, no longer giving a crap about Kenzie. She can say whatever she wants. It doesn’t mean anything to anyone who matters.
Micha strums his long fingers across the guitar as he stands in front of the microphone. His eyes are locked on me, the silver O-ring on his wedding finger glistening in the inadequate light of the living room as he sings the song that was playing while we were in the shower earlier. The lyrics bring fresh memories flooding back and I swear to God I can feel the heat of the steam and the scorching trail his hands left all over my body.
I watch him play, longing to touch him and for him to touch me. I put the plastic cup up to my lips and swallow another mouthful of Bacardi, feeling the burn of it along with the heat on my skin, realizing that Micha was right. That I do get horny when I’m drunk because all I can think about right now is him being inside me like he was in the shower.
When his lips part to sing the chorus, I shut my eyes and let the lyrics and sultry sound of his voice spill over my body. I’m gone. The people around me no longer exist. It’s just me and Micha and his beautiful voice. I remember the first time I heard him play, sitting in his room on this beanbag chair he had, watching him play and sing on his bed without a shirt on with this intense look on his face, like the words he sang owned him.
“So what do you think?” he’d asked after he’d stopped strumming the strings.
I’d shrugged, pretending that the sketchpad on my lap wasn’t holding a drawing of him on the bed. That I didn’t just draw him, making lines and shades that mattered. That he mattered enough to me that I took the time to draw him. I felt so lost at the moment, hearing him sing like that as I stared at a drawing that wasn’t just a drawing. I was lost but in the most wonderful way.
“It was okay, I guess,” I replied nonchalantly, adding a few shadings around his eyes because they were too beautiful not to have extra detail on them.
“Just okay?” He cocked his eyebrow as he held the guitar on his lap. He looked a little upset about my answer and it made me feel guilty.
“No, it was beautiful,” I said softly as I stared down at my drawing, uncomfortable at how intimate the moment was because I didn’t use the word beautiful. Just like I didn’t draw pictures of people unless it was an assignment for school.
I waited for him to say something, even though I wished he wouldn’t. But he never said anything, finally just playing the same song again. I’d smiled down at my drawing because even though I knew it wasn’t possible, I swear to God he could read my mind and eventually I’d started working on my drawing of him again while listening to him play. I’d always loved music, but hearing it from his mouth warmed my soul in a way that I never knew was possible.
I shake my head from the memory. Maybe there’s another sentence to put in my vows. Although, all these notes are getting a little personal and I’m not certain I’ll dare read them out loud. Panic claws at my throat and I start to open my eyes to go get another drink, but then Micha reaches the intense part of the song and I don’t want to leave the moment. I want to dance, get lost again like the first time I heard him play. So I keep my eyelids closed and sway my hips, shaking my head back and forth, my hair flying everywhere. I’m in heels and it’s a struggle to maintain my balance, but I don’t care even when I stumble a few times. Just like I don’t care that I’m rocking out in a room full of people who are absorbed in beer and trying to find someone to hookup with and who are probably looking at me like I’m a weirdo. I’ll take being a weirdo over not enjoying this moment. I’ve forced myself not to enjoy too many moments in my life. I need more enjoyment. Maybe it’s the alcohol in my system that’s making me think these things or maybe I’m just being my old self. Or perhaps I’m just being me. Whatever it is, I roll with it, dancing to the tempo of the music. Lila laughs at me and when I open my eyes she’s dancing, too.
We continue through the entire song and I keep swaying my hips with my hands above my head, even when the music stops and voices rise around me. Moments later the stereo clicks on and the sound suffocates the chatter. “New Low,” by Middle Class Rut, starts vibrating through the speakers and I know it will only be seconds before I’m no longer dancing solo in a room full of people.
Right on cue, Micha’s long arms wrap around my waist and he guides me back against his body. I know it’s him because of the overpowering scent: his cologne mixed with mint and beer and something intoxicatingly wonderful that belongs only to him. I deeply inhale it in, moving with him as we grind our bodies together to the beat.
“You’re so God damn sexy,” he says, breathing into my ear and giving it a little nip. “Do you know how hard it is to stand up there and play while you’re down here doing this?”