Page 5 of Mixed Connection
Every single time I brought up water or wanted to grab another drink, another song came on that was one of “our songs.” I can’t stop dancing when it’s my song playing. We’ve been dancing for so long that Janelle, the dancing queen herself, lets us know she is heading out, giving each of us a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
I nod to Jameson, lifting myself on my toes, I press a palm to his chest and lean into him. “I’m going to walk her out. Don’t you dare find another dance partner!” I tease him as he throws his hands up in the air.
Janelle and I exchange numbers and I promise her I will actually stay in touch this time. She lets me know she will be by Shaken Tropes some time before her leave is over. Waving her off, I can feel my anxiety rise up, my palms are sweating a bit as I make my way back into the hall that has become a club scene. But I don’t return to the dance floor, instead I go back to the bartender and grab a water.
Fuck me. I want to give Jameson my number but is that too forward? Do I care if it is? Asking myself that question, I find that I don’t care one bit. I release a breath and reach into my clutch to grab a pen before scribbling my number down on the back of the invite. Goosebumps erupt down my arms, as I stand stunned in my own assertiveness. I don’t know if I can do this but I know if I don’t, I’ll regret it and fuck regretting things. The worst thing that could happen is he says no. I would be mortified. But I would live without the regret.
Walking back into the main event space, I scan the dance floor before spotting my dance partner off to the side. He’s leaning against the wall, sipping on a drink. My skin is still slicked with sweat from dancing as I make my way over to Jameson. His gaze lifts to mine and he points toward the chairs we were sitting in earlier in the evening, and I nod in agreement.
He holds out his arm for me to go ahead first. There’s a gleam of mischief that shines in his eyes and a growing smirk as he drinks me in. I can’t lie, it does something to my already secure confidence. I sink my hips deeper into each of my steps and I can feel his eyes track the sway of my ass. The bass dies down and cool relief hits me as I take a seat. I couldn’t be happier to step out of the range of the speakers and the thick heat of the crowd.
“Are we going to ask those boringwhat have you been doing with your lifequestions, now?” I say, lifting my brows and pursing my lips.
“It’s only boring if you don’t want to know. And I’m definitely interested in learning what you’ve been doing for the last ten years.” I stop myself from swiveling my head around, wanting to find the cameraman of this dating episode because this man cannot be real. He’s too good and so right, so I tell him so.
“You’re right!” Leaning forward, I take a sip of my drink before continuing. “What’s the best part of the last ten years for you?”
“Without a doubt, working with my best friend. I went to school for design architecture but I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with it until my best friend called me up one day asking for help on a project. The rest is history.”
“I co-own a business with my best friend too!” My shock is both audible and shows brightly on my face. “I opened Shaken Tropes with my closest friend almost five years ago now. Some people say to be careful about mixing business with friends and family, but it’s been the best decision I’ve made.”
“What is Shaken Tropes?” he asks with genuine intrigue.
“Oh, it’s my bar.” A wide smile climbs up my cheeks at remembering our earlier conversation. “Paloma, my bestie, and I are both big romance readers and we really wanted to have a place where we could share that love with others. So, we thought what better way than books, cocktails, and fictional love interests. Each of our drinks are named after book tropes, wehave shelves filled with books within every genre of romance to ensure everyone feels included. It’s right on the outskirts of downtown, and it’s been a dream come true.”
“That sounds really dope. I don’t think I’ve heard of anything like that before,” Jameson says, his arm wrapping around the back of the chaise he sits on in a relaxed nature, his focus solely on me.God this man is effortlessly gorgeous.
“Yeah, the cherry bourbon sour is my favorite and it’s one of the first drinks we created for the bar.”
“What’s it called there?” I should have known that question was coming.
“Oh! Um…it’s called One Bed.” His eyes never leave mine but now there is a deeper look of something within them. “It’s the name of a trope and is a fan favorite with romance readers. It’s when there is only one bed and the main characters are forced to share the same bed. One of the main characters always decides they’ll sleep on the couch or floor and then eventually, ends up in the bed with the other. My favorite sub-trope of a one-bed scenario is when they’re enemies, but they are actually obsessed with each other, and theyrefuseto sleep anywhere else,butin the bed. And then they end up having…” I stop myself and realize I’ve been rambling. Heat slowly creeps up to my cheeks, staining them a deep shade of pink. “Having, um, a really good time.”
I’m not a prude by any means, but there is no way I am going to go into heavy detail about that scene. Clearing my throat, I lean back a bit and ask, “Why is it we never met? Janelle was one of my best friends during school and I don’t know…I’m kind of shocked she never introduced us.” There were several occasions I saw him walking the halls, but my younger self just didn’t have the nerve to approach him. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized he knew someone I was so close with.
“I find that interesting too.” The hint of intrigue in his voice has me doubting which part he is responding to. “But I’m notcomplaining now. When we were in high school, we were all running around trying to figure out who we were, while also being horny little shits.”
A laugh easily falls from my mouth. “We were horny little shits. I have never been so glad to be an adult as I am now. Ugh! I couldn’t go back. I don’t know about you, but there is this freedom in being myself as an adult. Not having that ever-present feeling of not being enough. And maybe, being a horny little shit isn’t totally a teen thing.” He sputters and all but chokes on his drink before he laughs. “Tell me more about you, about this business of yours?” I ask him, wanting to know more about him.
“After I finished my bachelors, I started flipping houses…Well, no. That’s not entirely accurate. When I was a teen, I helped my best friend during the summer months and learned a lot about house remodels. I didn’t start doing it on my own until after college. That’s why I’m here actually. I’m starting a new project that’s in the area while I wait to finalize on another.” He rubs his hands together like he can’t wait to get started on it. “I want to know more about this bar of yours.”
Time flies by, talking with Jameson is easy. I can completely be myself, but as we talk a yawn works its way free. The music is still thumping in the background, but the crowd seems to be slowly dwindling.
I start to gather the napkins I’ve used, stuffing them in my empty plastic cup. A few servers started passing around small cups of water about an hour ago. Owning a bar drives me to clean up after myself, making it easier on the servers that will ultimately fret over my mess. I look over at Jameson who is slowly nodding his head to the beat of the music, piling up toothpicks from the hors d’oeuvres into his own cup. I take the opportunity to run my fingers up his arm to gain his attention.
“Jameson, thank you for hanging out with me tonight. It was really great to meet you,officiallyof course. I…Well. I didn’t think I was going to have much fun, but you and Janelle really made this night worth it.” This man is so fine and if I am going to say yes to anything else today, it is going to be to myself. And I know exactly what I want.
“I feel the same way.” His smirk is devilish and disarming, which only rattles me more as I clench my thighs together. His fingers brush against my own as he continues to help me clear our table. Knocking over my napkin-filled cup, my gaze snaps to the exit as my nerves start to get the best of me as I assess how to get out of here quickly.
Jameson leans over, I watch him as he picks up the mess that fell to the floor and looks back up at me with a soft smile. His deep-brown eyes meet mine and it’s as if the room quiets completely. I could drown in him, and there’s no way I can walk out of here without trying. Before he can say anything more, I interrupt him not wanting to lose my nerve.
“I have to head home, but…” My thoughts stall.It’s now or never Cassidy!You are a grown-ass woman and this man is so into you!I shift my weight a bit, nervous about the invitation that is burning a hole in my clutch and finally pull it free. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but here’s my number.”
I wanted to be forward and give my number to him; I needed to have it written down and ready to give him because I was bound to talk myself out of doing so. I hand him my cell number that I scribbled on the back of the reunion invite. “Call me, sometime, if you want. Have a great night!”
Quick on my feet, I’m already walking away as he takes the invite from my hand and smiles.Hopefully I didn’t read this situation wrong, I think to myself as he starts to stand, but I am already waving goodbye and moving toward the exit. My nerves are very much getting the best of me. I know he is as into me asI am him, but I don’t want to wait around for the possibility of a no. I can hear the beat of the music slowly fade as the click of my heels becomes louder.
Pressing the metal bar that will release the lock, I take a deep breath and open the door and I’m met with the pleasantly warm night air that pebbles my skin. I may be standing here now, ten years later, but seeing him again is like I’m right back in the heat of teenage dream bliss, I have hope that the flirty glances we shared turn to something much more. A crush that I never acted on, never let myself dive too deep into, but tonight feels like it could be fate… or good karma, whatever it is they call it.
