Page 47 of Your Rhythm
“The interview’s over. You can ask me the rest of your questions tonight.”
* * *
My prediction was right.Literally half the city has tried to pack itself into the two storey bar tonight. For probably the sixth time since I walked in, someone taps me on the shoulder and points at the bar, miming out buying me a drink. It’s impossible to hear anyone over the noise, which is all well and good, because even if I could make out what people were saying theMagouadialect and heavy accents would be lost on me.
I just smile and point to some distant corner that I turn and head towards. If I’d accepted every drink offer so far I’d be beyond pissed by now. I lost track of the rest of the band awhile ago, and I don’t really want to know what state they’re in.
I find a spot for myself and pull my phone out, checking for any messages from Kay. She wasn’t in the press section at the show, but I know she likes to be a part of the crowd. Something jumps to life inside me when I spot a new notification next to her name.
Help. I’m outside the bar, but there’s no way I’m getting in there.
I make my way over to the front door, dodging pint glasses and more drink offers as I go. Poking my head out past the bouncers, I spot her loitering on the sidewalk with about twenty other people the place is too full to let inside.
“Kay!” I shout.
She turns towards me and walks over, giving the bouncers a wary glance.
“I’m, uh, in Sherbrooke Station,” I offer, as they size me up.
One of them shrugs and waves Kay through. He’s probably a childhood friend of JP’s.
Kay steps through the door, and I notice she’s gotten dressed up. Her brown eyes spark behind her glasses, lined with makeup that makes them look darker than usual. A pair of tight black pants made of something that shimmers in the bar lights come all the way up to her waist and show off more of her shape than I can handle. I’m thankful all she’s got tucked into them is a plain grey t-shirt under her jacket. If I had any more of her body to contend with, I’d be suggesting we head for the nearest back alley right now.
I lean in towards her ear. “You wear those pants for me?”
She makes a face. “You wish.”
I lead her towards the bar and catch the look she gives me when people move out of the way for us. I shrug like I’m helpless to stop it—which I pretty much am— and order us two beers in French so bad the bartender doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s laughing at me.
Kay slaps a bill onto the bar before I can even get my wallet out.
“It’s on me,” she asserts. “You got me in here.”
I have a feeling she’s not the kind of girl you argue with about stuff like this and just thank her.
We try and fail to find somewhere empty to stand, ending up pretty much in the middle of the floor, with people pressed so close against us we can barely lift up our beers. That doesn’t seem to stop me from feeling like we’re the only ones in the room. It might be forced proximity, but the fact that her chest is just inches from colliding with mine is making it hard to think straight.
She shouts something over the noise and I shake my head, unable to make the words out. She rocks forwards onto her toes, bringing us even closer together as she repeats herself.
“Where’s everyone else?”
I shrug. “Somewhere!”
She asks another question that I once again can’t make out. We both just end up laughing. Someone knocks against my back and I stumble forwards into her, just as she raises her pint to take a sip. Half the beer sloshes down my shirt and her hand flies to her mouth, eyes opening wide. I watch as she goes from shocked to amused, and when I see the smile stretching behind her hand I can’t take it anymore.
I have to kiss her.
In a matter of seconds, I’ve tapped on the shoulder of the guy next to me, passed him me and Kay’s drinks as he stares in complete confusion, and reached out to grab hold of her hips and pull them between mine.
Everything else fades as I hover a breath away from her mouth, waiting to see if she wants this as much as I do. All I’m aware of is the space between us. Then she closes it, and every thread of restraint I’ve been holding onto snaps. I dig my hands into the small of her back, parting her lips with my tongue as the gasp she makes threatens to bring me to my knees.
Someone lurches into me again before stumbling away and I’m reminded that there are way too many people here. Now that this is finally happening, I’m not going to risk letting her go again. I pull away and grab her hand, spinning us around and pushing through the crowd until we get to the back of the room.
Bathrooms. There have to be bathrooms.
I spot them, along with the long lines stretching out of both.
Damn. New plan.
