“Also true!”
I got us another round of cocktails and joined her back at the table. Our officemates were talking about something that they all found hilarious, but I found it terribly boring.
“I’d honestly go for the weird DJ dude. The gelled hair is a minus, but I dunno, he’s got a great butt. Anyway, your turn, Stella. Who do you think is the hottest guy in the bar?” Tiffany, one of our interior design consultants, chirped. She was sitting to Stella’s right and I was on her left. Tiffany flipped her platinum blonde hair and gazed at Stella, clearly excited to find out what her type was like. They played this game every time we took a new person out. It was pretty obvious that their intention was to figure out which coworker the new person would be most likely to date, but no one ever admitted it. When it had been my first time out, I answered by pointing out a very drunk girl crying at the bar, singing all the wrong words to some 90’s country tune. They all cracked up, and I don’t think that most of them ever were sure whether I was serious.
“Hmm,” Stella thought for a moment. I hoped that she would give a silly answer, or that just maybe she would say my name. “Eugene!” She pointed at him and winked. Everyone at the table erupted into a fit of ‘ooh’s’ and giggles.
“It’s Camille’s turn,” Stella interrupted them, clearing her throat and doing her best to avoid looking at me. “Who do I think is the hottest person in the room?”
I chewed on my cocktail straw, looking around. I considered saying her name, but I knew it would embarrass her. She had chosen gross Eugene, so obviously she was a lesbian and obviously she wasn’t ready to admit it. I scanned the room.
Just in time, our names were called for karaoke.
As if nothing had ever happened, we both jumped up excitedly and hurried to the stage together. Stella sounded great. Her voice was pretty, but raspy. I almost wanted to stop singing and listen to her instead.
The bridge hit, cueing her dance number. It was a combination of cheer moves and hip-hop dance. I smirked, stepping aside a bit and clapping. The crowd, albeit pretty small, erupted into a roar of hoots and cheers. When the song was over, I rushed off stage with her, excited to talk about our little duet.
“Were you a cheerleader in high school, or something?” I asked immediately.
“Yep! And we danced to that song my senior year at half-time for homecoming.”
“No way. I love it. Love that you still know it.”
“Some things you just don’t forget.”
By the end of the night, we were all pretty drunk. Stella and I headed for the bus stop. Waiting outside, the air was much cooler than it had been when I chose my work clothes for the morning. Stella was shivering. It was just the two of us waiting at the bus stop, aside from a man napping against a building wall.
“Aw, are you cold?” I slurred.
“Freeeezing!” she chattered.
I rubbed my hands quickly over her biceps, hoping to create enough friction to warm her. The bus pulled up and she quickly turned to face it. We found a seat near the back.
“So where do you live anyway?” I asked.
“Rosa Parks.”
“Oh, no way. Killingsworth. You’re not too far past me. Sorry I won’t be there to walk you to your door, though. I hate leaving you by yourself.”
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Drown: YA science fantasy short story (The Great Keeper) Page 4
