I danced and visited some more, but I was always looking past everyone. I felt sorry for those I was talking to, because my full attention was mentally on a table by the front door. I kept scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. When I danced, I looked over my partner's shoulders as we circled, hoping I would catch him watching me on the dance floor. I did see him once or twice, from a distance, and he danced by me once, on the floor with one of the two single girls from his table. They were smiling and laughing as they danced, and they had a few inches of space between them, I noticed. Not like the way he danced with me.
It was an odd night, I'm not used to being ignored. Usually out here, when you know a man is interested in you, they stick around. Usually a little too much. They buy you drinks, talk to you, dance with you, and try to get a kiss out of you. Or at least a phone number. Not this guy.
But somehow I was more aware of Charming than I had ever been of anyone else. And I longed to dance with him again, but I'd be damned if I'd go looking for him. I had a feeling that was exactly what he wanted, me to seek him out. I was determined not to fold. To come and get me the way he did, to dance with me in that sexy, sensual, we-are-the-only-people-in-this-bar way that he did, and then to just leave me to simmer in my own juices. Oh no, I am not going to go chasing after him like some lost puppy looking for a treat.
I put him out of my mind the best I could, determined not to let his presence effect me any more than it already had. A while later I ran into a familiar face. I saw an ex boyfriend in the crowd and went to say hi. We didn't date long, we figured out pretty quickly that we made great buddies, but beyond that there just wasn't much between us in the way of chemistry. I had introduced him to this bar, and only ran into him here occasionally, so it really was a pleasure to see him.
He must have thought the same about me because when I came up behind him and smacked him in the back, he turned around ready to say 'watch it dude,' but when he saw it was me just messing with him, he yelled out a loud, "Well, hot damn," bent down, wrapped his arms around my waist and stood up again, lifting me off of my feet in a big, friendly, bear hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck, half in greeting and half just to hang on. In this position he grinned at me and asked, "So how have you been?"
"Great, Jimmy." I answered him, grinning right back. "How about you?"
"I'm getting married," was his response, with an even bigger grin.
I let go with one arm and used it to smack him again, this time on his shoulder. "You are not."
"I am, next week. That's why we are here, bachelor party. I promised her no strippers."
"Well put me down so I can breathe and come tell me about her."
He and I headed over to the only little alcove in the bar where the music doesn't quite reach as loudly, and you can actually hold a conversation. A loud conversation, because you still have to yell above the music some, but still. The alcove was toward the front of the bar, to the right of the door, even in line with Charming's table, but against the other wall. Oh well, it really was the only place to talk, other than to go outside.
As he was filling me in on his fiancé, at first I kept shooting glances over at Charming, but I soon got involved in Jimmy's story. He had met her through a friend of a friend, and she sounded really sweet. I could tell Jimmy was totally smitten, and I was overjoyed for him. He really is just a big, sweet teddy bear, and I was glad that he found someone and was this happy.
As our conversation was wrapping up and he was telling me to save him a dance tonight, I saw Charming out of the corner of my eye. I told Jimmy that of course, any dance he wanted was his, and looked over to watch Charming. He was heading our way. I mean directly toward us, not just in our general direction. He had a drink in each hand, and had me in his sights. I watched him get closer and closer, his eyes locked on mine. I stopped talking and just stared into his eyes as he stopped right in front of us. In front of me, actually. He gave no indication that he even saw Jimmy. I took a deep breath as my tummy did funny things again.
He did not say a word, but he put his drink down on the table beside me, and took my empty drink from my hand. His fingers brushed mine in the process, causing my heart to stop for a beat or two. He put the second drink he had been carrying into my now empty hand, picked his own drink back up off of the table, gave me another wink, and walked away. All without saying a word. I watched him as he walked away. He went by the bar, dropped my empty drink off, and then went calmly back to his table. When he got there, he looked over at me while standing in the midst of his friends, both single girls included. He raised his eyebrows, and his drink, in a toast. He smiled his shit-eating grin and took a drink, his eyes locked firmly on mine.
I tried not to smile back, but it was hard. Instead, as I kept eye contact with him, I raised my glass back at him, and sipped the drink he had brought me. Well I'll be damned, Jameson and Coke. At that, I did smile back at him, but I was feeling the warmth of this encounter creep up my neck and onto my face, making me flush with both pleasure and embarrassment, and quickly dropped my eyes and looked away.
Jimmy cleared his throat and said, "I'm still here, you know," with humor in his voice. I shook my head quickly, in an effort to regain my thought process. I looked up at Jimmy, as red as I could be. "So, who was that?" Jimmy asked, grinning.
"That seems to be the question of the day," I smiled as I answered him.
"I don't think he liked us over here in this corner very much, do you?"
"Well, it's not like he has much of a say in the matter," I stated, for some reason on the defensive.
"No? Or just not yet?"
"Oh, shut up."
CHAPTER 5
FAIR TRADE
It is nearing the end of the night, and I am leaning against the rail that separates the dance floor from the rest of the bar, half lost in thought and half watching the dancers. I stiffen in awareness and take a slow, deep breath. I feel him before I see him. He comes from behind me and settles in at the railing beside me. Not touching, but really close. We stand there for a minute, both pretending to be highly involved in what is happening on the dance floor. I can't stand it anymore, and I risk a look over at him. He doesn't look back at me, but he notices me looking at him, and he smiles. I look back at the dancers.
He asks, "Would you like to dance?"
"I'm not sure my heart could take it," I honestly answer back.
He laughs a quiet laugh, looks at me and throws my words from the golf cart back at me, saying "I'm sure you'll survive." He adds, "Come on, I'll go easy on you," and steps out onto the dance floor, leaving me to decide whether to follow him or not. Of course, I follow.
We dance in silence again, the slow way we had when he first pulled me out here this evening, before the music and the dancing had changed so abruptly to pure sensuality. All tucked in safe against him, I let myself relax and melt into him. 'What are you doing? This isn't how we work, put your guards up,' my mind yells at me. 'Shut up, this is nice,' my body yells right back.
We dance quite a few songs this way. We talk a little, he teases me, I somehow manage to tease him right back. I can see more and more of the easy-going, light-hearted personality he had shown out front on the golf cart, as we relax in each other's presence.
I feel his upper body shift a bit, and I look up at him to see why. He is looking down at me, and I find myself lost deep in his eyes. As we slowly dance like this, his eyes pulling me in, I forget where we are. I don't feel the occasional couple bump into us when they aren't paying attention to where they are going. I don't notice the neon lights flashing and strobing, and I barely hear the music anymore. All I see is him, all I feel is his heat.
It seems natural when his hand slides up from my waist and cups my cheek. I'm still trapped in his eyes, his hand warm on my cheek, as I feel his thumb begin to stroke my face. I find myself leaning into his palm, my chin tilting up and my mouth raising to meet his.
As he lowers his lips to mine, his warm breath c
aresses me first, followed quickly by his soft but firm mouth. My lips open to his, and the kiss deepens. Our mouths and tongues move as one, and I can tell that dancing is not the only thing he excels at. As before, on the dance floor, he again takes the lead. Our kiss shows a glimpse of all the sensual things to come, if I would only give in. He ends the kiss before I am quite ready, and as I slowly open my eyes and watch the world come back into focus, I can tell that he knows exactly what he did, and that he was pleased with his results.
"If we really were the only ones here, I promise you, there would have been more." He whispered down at me. "But I know you are not known for wanton make-outs in this club, and I think we are starting to attract some attention."
I took a steadying breath, and looked around. A few of my group had noticed, and were enjoying the spectacle greatly. I again flamed red, from my neck right up to my hairline, and I dropped my forehead onto his chest in embarrassment. I cleared my throat and just said, "Thank you."
"Anytime," he replied, pulling me close again and finishing out the song.
As we walked off the dance floor I stopped abruptly and looked up at him in horror. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"I let you kiss me like that, in front of everyone, and I don't even know your name." He smiled and said, "Is that all? I can fix that. I'll trade you my name for your phone number. I think it's only fair." I pretended to think this over, weighing things carefully, and finally said, "Deal."
I tried to get his name first, but he wasn't having it. "Oh no, a deal is a deal."
"I know, and I will, but we never said who goes first."
"Number first," he said, "Or you will never know the name of the man you just made out with. And didn't get quite enough of either, if I'm not mistaken."
"Oh, fine." I gave him my number, and got his name in return.
"It's Caleb. Caleb Cavanagh."
"Well, Caleb, Caleb Cavanagh, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but it is time for me to go home."
"Already? It's still early."
"Early? It's almost 2 a.m. The bar will be closing soon anyway."
"So stay til last call, we can dance the last dance."
"Oh no, I never stay 'til last call. That's when all the guys that have been biding their time all night pounce, and they try to get someone, anyone really, to take them home. I prefer to sneak out about now, and no one's the wiser. Besides you don't want to be here right at two, when they turn all the lights on and herd you outside. They call them the 'ugly lights' for a reason, it ruins the whole fantasy."
"True. But if you stay we could go to breakfast."
"What kind of girl do you think I am? I just learned your name all of four seconds ago."
He laughed and said, "At least let me walk you to your car."
"Nope, not tonight. That would just get me in trouble. I've seen what happens when people walk to cars around here," I laughed. "No, I leave the way I came, alone. It's safer that way, besides I have to think. I can't seem to do that when you are anywhere near."
He smiled at that, and said, "You have a lot of rules."
"Yes, like I don't make out in this bar, or give out my number. And you, sir, have gotten me to break two of them in a matter of minutes."
"OK, OK. Be safe driving home, please."
"Always," I say with a smile.
When I get to the car, I sit in the dark silence for a bit, and go over the night's events in my head. My brain keeps up this running tirade, something about how we are not supposed to be giving out phone numbers to strangers, and especially not supposed to be kissing those same strangers, but I don't think the rest of me is really paying much attention.
My lips are still tingling with the feel of his kiss, and my pulse is still pounding from the memory of his quiet claiming of me by merely bringing me a drink. And oh, that dance. I had teasingly told him that I hadn't spared him even a second thought, but you can bet that tonight he is all I am thinking about, and will be for days. I liked knowing that he had looked for me last Friday, and I silently thanked my family for the fact that I had not been here. I'm not sure tonight would have been so much fun if he hadn't felt thwarted last week.
I am barely out of the parking lot and pointed toward the freeway when my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but my tummy does that weird little dance again, so I'm guessing one of us knows who is calling.
"Hello?'
"Don't over-think this," I hear in my ear.
"What?"
"You heard me, don't over-think this. Don't spend your time driving home talking yourself out of me. That's why I called. You can't let your rules win out this time. In fact, I think you should come home with me."
I laughed out loud at that. "Oh, you do, do you?"
"Yes, you should drive to my place. I won't even make a move tonight, I promise. We can get pillows and blankets and camp out in my backyard, sleep on my trampoline."
"Now that is one I have never heard before."
"I mean it, we could snuggle all night, sleep outside on the trampoline, and tomorrow we can have breakfast, stay on the couch all day and watch movies. How does that sound?"
"Honestly, that sounds rather fabulous, but I'm torn. That is the coolest, oddest proposition I have ever received from a man, and I am torn between thinking you are either trying to become my gay best friend, or that you are a liar and are planning to ravage me and keep me locked up in your basement."
I heard him laugh. He has the nicest, deepest laugh. It makes me want to make him laugh more often, just so I can hear it.
"You're in luck, I don't have a basement. And trust me, your gay best friend is the last thing I'm aiming for. I promised not to make a move tonight, but I made no such promises about tomorrow. By then my plan is to make you so comfortable with the idea of me, and so drunk on my kisses, that you not only put up with my advances, you beg for them."
"There's that charming stuff again, I told you I don't trust charming. I'm damaged goods remember? I have a sneaking suspicion that you could eat me up and spit me out. Then instead of just the little bit damaged and bruised that I am, I would end up completely broken and unfit for polite society after you got through with me."
"A guy has got to have goals, right?"
"Oh, that was just wrong."
"That's me, totally wrong on so many fronts, but possibly the best time you'll ever have. Come on, take a chance. If not tonight, then tomorrow. Let me take you to dinner."
"OK, fine, I'll have dinner with you."
"Great, you are not allowed to cancel."
"I won't."
"Remember, my promise to not make a move was only valid tonight. Tomorrow all bets are off. Gay best friend, as if."
"Alright, I consider myself duly warned. I'll make sure I come armed."
We said goodnight, and as I drove the rest of the way home, I thought about my ex, and how charming he was at first too, before the charming morphed into abusive. That was a story for another day, but we had just broken up so everything was still fresh. As a matter of fact, two weeks ago when I met Caleb was my first night out after my break-up. If it wasn't for Julie's birthday, I really would not have gone out. It hadn't been a long relationship, and as soon as I saw where it was headed, I got out. But still. That kind of crazy takes its toll.
Caleb had already wormed his way into an intrigued part of my brain, and I'd be damned if I let an old boyfriend ruin what might be a lot of fun. I let myself into the house and headed to bed thinking, "This man is either exactly what I need to heal, and a hell of a good time, or he really is going to break me completely. I just know it deep in my bones."
CHAPTER 6
THE MARINA
Saturday morning came too soon, but thankfully it started with a natural wake-up. Not sure I could have handled the alarm clock this morning. There is something obscene about an alarm clock on a Saturday morning.
As I sipped my coffee I tried to decide if I was going to work today or not. One of the perks o
f being self-employed was being able to have that choice, but on the other hand- no work, no money. Saturdays usually were one of my most productive days of the week, and as I woke up enough to remember that I had a date tonight, I realized that the only way I could get through the day would be in the mindlessness of working. So, with that decision made, I headed out of the house.
As I drove around, I replayed last night in my head. I kept turning over my favorite moments in my mind, like a stone you find on the beach that just begs to be examined from all angles. The embarrassment also came back though. Why did I let some near stranger effect me like that? Rules are rules for a reason, and with him last night they just seemed so unimportant. Silly, even.
Why did I give him my number? And why did I agree to this date? I could have just left after that kiss and I would have had a whole week to decide whether to go back to the club again. A whole week to shore up my defenses. Maybe I should call him and cancel.
No, that would just prove him right. He knew I'd try to talk myself out of this. He even said, "You are not allowed to cancel." Damn it. I swore off men for a while, and now I have a date. I thought working was supposed to keep my mind off of this. I could still be home in Pj's and be just as tortured.
The phone rang beside me. Caleb's number. My stomach flipped again. 'You have got to stop doing that,' I scolded my stomach as I said, "Hello."
"Have you talked yourself into canceling yet?"
"I don't know what you are talking about." I answered back.
"You are such a bad liar."
"How do you do that, anyway?"
"What, know what you are thinking? You aren't that hard to read, everything shows on your face."
"You can't see my face."
"No, not now. I told you, I watch people. You learn a lot about people that way. It comes in handy in my job. You let your brain get in the way, that's all. Sometimes you've just got to let go. Have some fun."
"Hmm. Speaking of jobs, don't you ever work?" I asked, changing the subject from me.
"Yeah, but not now. Right now I'm on days. Monday through Friday, eight to four, like a normal Joe. We all like this shift for it's predictability, but we all like the nights and weekends, for the excitement, so we have to rotate. That way no one gets too comfortable. "
One Swinging Summer Page 3
