Page 110 of We Met Like This
“That’s the place.”
“That’s a lot of people,” he said. “You like people more than I do.”
“Is that why you work from home? Because you don’t like people?”
“I work from home because it saves me overhead and helps me make more money. You work from home now too.”
“I guess I do.”
“You need a space in your apartment that is different from the space you live in. It will help you get in the right mindset for work.”
“My apartment is too small for that.”
“A corner of your bedroom would work. I could help you design something.”
“Are you trying to take care of me again? Is that why you helped me make my website and drove me here this weekend?”
“Yes!” he said loudly.
I wrapped my arms around his waist as we walked. Turns out I didn’t mind being taken care of. “You are so drunk.”
“I’m just a little buzzed,” he said.
We showed our IDs to the bouncer at the doors to the bar. The music was even louder inside.
A man on the stage with a microphone was calling out steps as a large group of people in the center of the room followed along, stomping and turning to the beat. I immediately steered us to the bar, where we had to wait behind a dozen people before we could order drinks. I just got a sparkling water, but Oliver leaned onto the bar littered with peanut shells and said, “A beer, please. Whatever you recommend.”
With our drinks in hand, we wound through the crowd until we found the empty corner of a tall table off to the side of the dance floor. We watched the dancing while we drank.
“You want to do that, don’t you?” he said after a while.
“Dance?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“I do. But only if you do it with me.”
He downed the rest of his drink in two big gulps and said, “Let’s do it.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You need to get drunk more often.”
“I’m not drunk.” He said it, and yet on the dance floor, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. Not that I wanted him to. He stood behind me, holding on to my hips as I moved with the instructions from the announcer. Oliver moved with me, usually a step behind, but laughing and trying. Several times his hands grazed the sides of my breasts or rested on my ass.
I was perfectly sober and couldn’t keep my hands off him either. I clung to his bicep for several steps or grabbed hold of one of the belt loops on the back of his jeans or held his hand. And I laughed too, and got half the steps wrong. He ordered more drinks and we danced until a fifteen-minute break was announced. Then we stumbled out of the bar. The night air felt cool on my hot, damp skin.
The hotel was a short Uber ride away. As I climbed into the car after Oliver, he pulled me to the middle seat, his arm immediately going around my shoulders after I buckled in. I held on to his hand with both of mine.
He kissed me on the temple. “I had fun,” he whispered.
I smiled up at him. “Did you have the time of your life?”
“And I owe it all to you?” he asked.
I smiled. “I knew that movie was on my deal-breaker list for a reason.”
