One Cup of You

Part 8

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This is a raw, unedited version of this book. You may see some grammar, spelling and continuity mistakes. One day, I might turn this into a paperback, but for now I just need to share my story !

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The inside of the club was a lot different from McMurphy's. There was very little sign that it was Christmas time at all, save for the colourful lights strung up at the bar. Otherwise, it was the same as it had been every other time we'd come here. No overhead lighting, but a tonne of lasers and strobes flashing to the beat of the music. It was impossible to hear anyone speak unless you got right on their ass and basically stuck your mouth right against their ear. The dance floor was full of bodies moving and grinding, the air was thick with sweat and lust. While the aesthetic differences were plainly obvious between the two locales, the mood and atmospheres were also worlds apart. Everyone in the room was marinating in a stew of pheromones.

No matter how many times I had gone to a place like this, I felt awkward and very unsure of how to conduct myself. I had enough rhythm to know how to move my body to a beat, but I had about as many seductive qualities as a tube sock and none of my moves felt appropriate for the venue. Alcohol was the best and only tool I had in these situations to shed my inhibitions and get into the mood everyone else was in. It didn't take long for me to get good and drunk and eventually I was copying the women around me, moving my hips back and forth and pushing my hands through my hair to the rhythm pumping through the speakers.

I have never been blackout drunk. Normally, I cut myself off and switch to water as soon as I have enough of a buzz to feel comfortable at the bar. I've never puked from too much to drink. I've done nothing excessively embarrassing or stupid. But that night, I was sure I was hallucinating when Jamie walked into the bar again. Either that, or something cosmic and magnetic kept putting him in my proximity unexpectedly and at the most opportune moments. Again, he was alone, but this time he was hyper focused on scanning the room. He wasn't here to just "see who he could find", he was looking for someone.

Clumsily, I kept on dancing, but locked my gaze on him. This had definitely been the most drunk I'd ever been in my life, but thankfully I could still control my eyeballs- and bladder, and puke reflex-I had been counting my wins by that point. When he recognized me from the crowd, he smiled and made his way over to me.

Without warning, he pulled me in close so he could set his cheek right against mine, speaking close to my ear so I could hear him.

"I was hoping I'd find you." His voice was deep and low, more like a growl than a whisper. His breath smelled like rum.

My face flushed, and my stomach dropped into my jeans. Even if I had been sober, I still would've felt really confused. Where was Amber? What was going on between them? Despite the confusion, I couldn't bring myself to ask, just in-case I didn't like the answer.

I looked at him for a second, trying to rack my brain for a response. I wanted to tread carefully and protect myself, but I wanted him to stay close to my body the way he was, with his hand on my waist and eyes locked on mine.

Apparently, I was drunk enough that I wrote my feelings and thoughts all over my face. Because before I found the words I was looking for, he pressed his cheek up against mine once again and said "Amber went home."

He offered no other explanation, and my unspoken question remained unanswered, but my body relaxed.

"Dance with me?" I said, surprising myself, and he laughed and buried his head into my neck, pulling my hips into his.

Guiding me with his hands, he turned me around so my back was up against his belly, his face resting against my neck. My spine tingled with yearning, and my skin prickled under the sensation of his breath. I did what came naturally, and grounded my ass against his body in beat with the music, and reached one hand around to the back of his head, grabbing a fist-full of his hair. We danced the rest of the night, switching between face to face and back to belly, mixed in with Piper and her various partners. I felt the pulling and throbbing between my legs, urging me to grab him and kiss him, but every time it occurred to me, I held back. Although every minute we spent with our bodies close was pure lust, there was something unspoken going on between us that made me hesitate to take that step.

Without a steady flow of liquor, the spell of alcohol was wearing off along with my self-assurance. I was suddenly hyper aware of my body against Jamie's, breathing in the rich scent of his sweat and cologne, and my instincts turned on me. My heart pounded in my chest and it felt like I was doing something wrong or sneaky. All of my previous questions returned to me in a sudden flood of confusion. Was he, or wasn't he, single? I pulled away from his body and looked at the floor, rubbing my thumb against his when he tried to hang on to my hand.

The night was over; the magic was over. I mustered up all my strength to bring my face close to his again to whisper goodbye, before I spun around to find Piper and call a cab home.

In the cab, Piper pulled her thick hair into a bun and fanned herself, sweaty from the drinking and dancing.

"What was going on there with you and Jamie Collins?" she said his name like he was some sort of famous person.

"I don't even know." I grumbled. "I mean, I'm so attracted to him I wanna rip my pants off whenever he gets close to me, but he has a girlfriend."

"He doesn't have a girlfriend. They broke up, everyone knows about it." She said confidently.

I told her about Amber sitting with us, how weird it was that she just butted into the conversation and how pissed Jamie looked. I explained to Piper how confusing it was, because I too thought he was single, but she suggested they were still spending Christmas together.

"Sounds like two people who are just hanging on by a thread, if you ask me. Doesn't really mean he's totally unavailable."

"It means he's not totally available either," I said, getting out of the cab.

She got out and slammed the cab door behind her, heading toward the front door of my apartment building.

"Best-case scenario, you get to fuck this guy you want so bad and get it out of your system."

I went to bed that night, dizzy and still drunk, trying to decide if I was the type of person who could fuck someone "just to get them out of my system." I couldn't come up with an answer.