“She’s not bored.” Dan sat forward and looked at me expectantly.
I shrugged my shoulders. I was bored. As fuck.
“And I can’t understand why a guy who is lucky enough to score a date with a girl like C wouldn’t want to know every damn thing there is to know about her. What her favorite color is, what movies she likes, or what music she chills to. How could you not want to know that she wears glasses at night and looks fuckin’ hot as sin in ‘em, or that she likes to eat peanut butter and banana toast just before bed? C’mon, dude. You don’t care about knowing Capri.”
Wes shook his head and tilted back to take another sip of his beer. At least, I thought that was what he did. I was having a hard time seeing through the beat of my pulse clear up to my eyeballs. I’d spent so much of my life trying to blend into the walls around me, and somehow Wes had been watching closely enough to know what I ate before I went to sleep at night. I couldn’t discern if the helix of nerves twisting in my stomach was from being watched or from being seen.
“This is our first date. Of course, I wouldn’t know those things,” Dan said standing from the table and making a show of tossing down a few twenties. “And I’d like to continue it. Are you ready, Capri?” Dan asked me, but instead of replying, I looked at Wes.
With my anxious haze retreating, I could see Wes more clearly now. He tapped his fingers on the edge of his bottle, almost nervously. Then he released his hand from the bottle and stretched his arm up to pull the beanie off his head and run his hand through the tufted mess of hair atop it. I giggle vomited. Wes winked.
“Nah. I think I’ll stay here a bit longer.” I wrinkled my nose and looked back up at Dan.
“Are you serious? You’re on a date with me,” he gestured grandly toward himself.
“And it sounds like that date is over,” Wes said, moving to stand between Dan and me, but I quickly patted him on the leg. He smiled down at me and rested back into his chair.
“I’m sorry, Dan. This just isn’t going to work out. We’re two very different people, and I think it’s best if we go our separate ways,” I said as kindly as possible.
“Uh-huh,” Dan said rubbing his chin with his hand. “Look, I’m not going to grovel because, let’s be real, I don’t need to. I do think you are missing out on something that could have been really successful.”
Successful? Why on Earth would I ever want to be with a guy who described a relationship as successful? I hadn’t planned to see Dan past this ‘quick drink,’ but it was even clearer to me now why I had never been interested in him. Besides the blazer, he saw things through a systematic lens.
Life, to me, wasn’t about a formula of how to get it right or of weighing risks. It wasn’t about an equation with a solid answer. Life was a spectrum, and we swirled somewhere amidst its colors. We flowed, and we tumbled. We connected, and we drifted apart. We diluted, and we saturated. The only thing that was certain was we didn’t know where tomorrow would take us, regardless of what we planned. The only thing that was promised was that we wouldn’t regret a moment of it if we lived it passionately.
“Successful sounds really boring, homie.” Wes tugged on his beanie adjusting where it sat back on his head. I scrunched my nose and nodded in agreement. Boring, indeed.
Dan huffed at Wes before turning his attention back to me. “If you need a ride home, let me know. I’ll be over at the bar. I don’t feel right leaving you alone.” Then he glared back toward Wes.
I opened my mouth to tell him that I was perfectly safe with Wes, when the man himself cut in. “I’ll be taking her home but buy yourself a beer on me while you’re over there,” Wes said.
“Unreal,” Dan muttered before walking away.
“I should feel bad,” I said to Wes, still watching Dan as he squeezed himself between two girls who stepped aside to give him more than enough space.
“He should feel like an ass. That had to have been the most pathetic date I’ve ever seen, C.” Wes smiled at me.
“Gee, thanks.” I smiled back. “You don’t have to take me home if you’re here with someone else, Wes. I can call one of the girls or August for a ride.”
“I’m not here with anyone except you now.” He sat back into his chair and shoved his right hand deep into his pocket leaving the other arm stretched out onto the table.
“You sure?” I asked.
He pulled his hand from his pocket and patted his thigh. “Yep, and c’mon, you can’t tell me that you weren’t bored outta your mind.” Wes started laughing. “At one point, I even caught you doing that thing you do when you’re trying to stay awake.” What? Does he mean when I silently sketch with my finger? “You know, when you twirl your fingers around on the tabletop?” Wow.
“Okay, stalker,” I teased to mask my blossoming nerves. Wes’ response was to throw his head back in a deep chuckle. I loved that sound. I remembered countless moments when I’d heard his laugh rolling through the walls of my house and working its way deep into the plaster. I felt a small smile sweep across my face, and my nerves were gone.
“So, what now?”
“What do you mean? I thought you were giving me a ride home?” I asked.
“I will, but the night isn’t over yet. I feel like I kinda owe you for crashing your date.”
“No, I definitely owe you for saving me from my date.” I laughed. “So what should we do?”
“You up for a game?” Wes’ eyes sparkled and I groaned; this man and his games. “Oh c’mon, C. It’ll be fun. Besides, you said yourself that you owe me.”
“Uh, fine. What are we playing?”
“Every time your boy Dan over there points to himself, we take a shot.”
“So basically you plan on us getting wasted?”
“Basically.” He grinned and held his fist out to me.
“I’m in.” I grinned and pounded it.
“Jess, a round of shots.” He smiled at the waitress who was coincidentally wiping down the empty table next to us, again. She nodded enthusiastically at him before turning her eyes down at me. My response? A silent “suck it.”
President Douche was still weaseling his way around the bar; every now and then, he’d look over at our table and glare at me. Each time, I saluted him with one of my favorite lewd gestures. Right now, for instance, I was humping Capri’s empty chair.
She’d gone to use the restroom, and when I saw her wobble to catch her footing, I let Jess know it was just water from here on out. I wanted her to loosen up and have a good time, but I didn’t want her to go overboard.
I’d come in alone again tonight. I wasn’t ready to go home after my last appointment, and the shop was too quiet, making me all restless and shit.
When I saw her, my first reaction was to drop my hot wing onto my lap. Then I stared ‘cause I was just thinking about her and here she was. Well, not thinking about her, more like daydreaming about how pretty she looked and how good she smelled. Okay, yeah, mostly that, but I was thinking about what a badass she was when she painted, too. She said she didn’t paint anymore, but the minute I saw her get to work on the mural, I knew she’d lied. She held that brush like I held my iron. It wasn’t a tool. It was her voice.
So anyway, after I finished convincing myself about how much I wasn’t thinking about her, I snuck up behind one of the posts close to her table and hid behind it so I could hear what they were talking about. After ten minutes of listening to the turd and watching poor C scratching her fingers across the table yawning, I broke up the shindig.
Now, I’d had the honor of spending two hours with Capri that didn’t involve an obligation, and she hadn’t left yet. In fact, she actually seemed like she was having fun. She even laughed when I dared her to give me that lap dance she owed me from a failed attempt at Tommy’s a few months back. When I said failed attempt, I meant she and Lennon tricked me into thinking I was getting the lap dance when they actually gave it to each other.