Page 57 of Coincidentally Kismet

Reluctantly, I turn back to my shots and explain them to the group, my voice laced with anxiety. “I call these Superman shots because, obviously, they are the right colors, and I had a borderline-obsessive crush on Clark Kent as a teenager. Not in a creepy way. Just, I m-mean...I mean, have you seen the movie? Henry Cavill is a brilliant actor. He should have won an Oscar for that role,” I blurt out nervously.

Will squeezes my hip, chuckling to himself softly, causing me to look around the room at the array of raised eyebrows, smirks, and a single eye roll from Lo. I may or may not have done a little overexplaining due to my nerves and desperate attempt to make my friends love the shots as much as I do.

“I promise they are delicious and go down so smoothly,” I say, willing them not to tease me about this.

“I don’t really care what you call them as long as there’s liquor in there,” Smith says, winking at me.

“To Clark Kent,” Butler toasts.

After the shots are done, we pile out of the apartment and into the SUV. The guys all chime in to thank me for being the one girl Will is willing to go to the country bar for. There are a minimal number of comments about me being his kryptonite. Yes, I deserved every one of them...Why did I give that whole explanation and not just tell them it’s a shot like a normal person?

Waiting in line is the worst. I don’t usually have to do it when it’s just Lo and I attempting to con our way into a bar, but the whole group thing seriously cramped our ability to flirt our way past the bouncers. We spent close to half an hour waiting to get in! It’s obviously more crowded than the last time we were here, but the vibe seems good and I’m over-the-top excited to dance with Will.

I made a mental decision before coming tonight that I would avoid the green syringe shooters at all costs, and so far, I’ve been able to pass without anyone truly noticing. I’m nursing a whiskey and ginger ale while we all gathers around a small table to take in the atmosphere and get our liquid courage up. It’s not a big enough space for a group this size, but there isn’t any room on the rail around the floor, and at least we still have a decent view of the dancing.

The first couple of chords to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” stream out from the speakers. I turn to make eye contact with Will. He doesn’t have to say a word, he just simply nods and I know it’s time to head to the dance floor. I’m amped because not only do I love the song but we just successfully pulled off the whole silent communication thing that I’ve been jealous of Lo and Smith over.

I make my way to the center of the floor with Will nipping at my heels. We both get in the rhythm of the beat and quickly fall in step with where everyone else is in the dance. I’m jumping, kicking, stomping on cue, lost to the music, letting my body perform the moves from muscle memory. This...here...with Will by my side. There’s nothing better.

“Oh my God, I can’t keep up. How do you know how to do this?” Lo yells, as she sashays up beside me.

“Just look at my feet and follow my lead. There wasn’t much else to do in the small town we grew up in!” I shout back at her over the music.

She’s trying, but, my gosh, she’s so bad at it. It’s honestly a little embarrassing and exciting at the same time that I finally found something I can do better than her. I know, I know, I should be all supportive because she’s my best friend, but it’s nice to excel at one thing over her. Sue me!

The music fades out and just as quick the starting beat of the famous “Footloose” song rolls on. I look at Will. Yet again, I’m on the receiving end of a self-assured nod. I tell Lo to stand aside and watch, which irritates her and makes her laugh in equal measure.

Will grabs my hand, dragging me to the very front of the dance floor, where we perform every move to the song flawlessly. He hits every step and spins me at exactly the right times. We’re having so much fun that I’m completely engrossed in the moves. I don’t immediately notice the crowd that has gathered around to watch and cheer us on.

When the song ends, I’m drenched in sweat with giggles bursting from my lips. Will whispers, “Want to give them a show, Wright?” Heat flashes up my neck, painting my cheeks even redder than they would have been from the sheer exertion. There’s a round of applause as we take a bow and Will spins me backward, dipping me suspiciously low to the floor before curling me into him for a heated kiss. The crowd lets out a round of hoots and hollers as we head back over to where our group has commandeered some space at the rail that opened up.

“Holy shit...Who knew you had moves like that, we coulda had chicks begging to come home with us this whole time,”Smith says pointedly to Will. Lo promptly smacks him on the arm.

“Don’t be jealous, it’s all my partner. Couldn’t do it without her.” Will shrugs and points at me with his thumb.

“Ha, you have no idea how many times he stepped on my toes when we spent weeks learning that dance in the barn after school,” I say winking at Will.

“Oooh, burn. She got you, bro.” Smith laughs huskily.

“She didn’t mention how long it took her to learn the two-step,” Will responds, his face morphing into a goofy, lopsided grin.

He’s not lying. It did take me a ridiculously long time to figure out a really simple dance. I’ve always been an overthinker. Trying to go too fast, then too slow, it was a real miracle the day I finally got it down.

“Okay, fine, that’s fair—ooh, let’s take a shot!” I point at the approaching server, steering the conversation away from my shortcomings.

I know I made myself a deal, but fuck it! I grab the waitress and we all take two Jell-O shooters each, down the hatch. Ruiz returns with a round of drinks, which also go down way too quickly.

We stand around singing some of the songs as they come across the speakers, taking turns dancing on the floor in different groups. Sometimes it’s just the girls, and other times it’s Will and I trying and failing to teach Smith and Butler the moves to various dances. I notice Butler glancing at Amy more than once...I need to explore that but don’t want to miss out on spending as much time with Will as possible. The night is progressing quicker than I had hoped, but it’s true that time really does fly by when you’re having fun.

A slow song descends and couples line up in pairs, forming an oval around the dance floor. Will extends his hand. “Shall we?”

I link my fingers in his and we get in position. I haven’t two-stepped in close to five years, but I know with Will leading it will all come right back.

Boy, does it. I glide around the dance floor with one of his strong arms carefully positioned at my lower back and our hands locked in front of us at each of my hips. It’s not intimate in the normal sense of slow dancing, but the occasional spins and dips he manages to put me in are just as intoxicating. Or maybe it’s the alcohol that’s intoxicating. Probably both.

We end the song with one last spin and dip, Will pressing his lips to mine and thanking me for the dance, like a real gentleman. I move to head back to the table and he playfully swats my backside. Fine, maybe he’s not completely a gentleman. But I’m more than okay with it.

Our group oohs and aahs with a round of applause as we approach. It’s a good thing I love them all. If I didn’t, they would be getting serious talks from me about how embarrassing they are.

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