Above Water ✔️

8 - it's my trial and i'll cry if i want to

My knees were sweating.

I didn't even know knees could sweat. We were piled into Grace's minivan for our night on the town. I was smushed between Dallas and Carlos, with Scott, Grace's husband, driving and Erick in the passenger's seat. Behind us was Chris and Frasier. It was truly a guy's night out.

"Remind me why we couldn't take two cars," I muttered.

"Because Scott's our DD and it'll save us the hassle of finding parking," Erick explained for the fourth time. I wasn't the only one complaining. Carlos was sweating like we were in a sauna and being very vocal about it.

Dallas's arm was practically resting on my thigh. I didn't have a clue where we were going. Apparently, Erick asked his parents where the locals liked to party at. They recommended some bar and restaurant down on the strip.

The longer I was in that car, the more I wanted to go back to the house.

Scott put on some music and almost everybody in the car was shouting the lyrics out the windows. I leaned my head back and just listened, amused by the enthusiasm surrounding me. I glanced over at Dallas to find him already looking at me. He offered a small smile and I returned it.

Up close, I could see small freckles on his nose.

We arrived not too long after. I was so happy to get out of the car I could have cried. Erick came over and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "First round is on me," he announced. "Then you cheap motherfuckers can pay for yourselves!"

Everybody cheered. We made our way to the front entrance. It seemed like it was a mixed theme of a Mexican cantina and a nightclub. Loud bass was pumping from the inside and a group of scantily dressed girls stumbled out of the front door, eyeing us through their eyelashes.

I could see that a number of them lingered their eyes on Dallas, but he paid them no mind.

So the seven of us found our way in and, by some miracle, scored a circular booth next to a window overlooking the beach. I sat on the inside, once again next to Dallas, but this time, Frasier managed to squeeze on the other side of me.

I felt sick. Alcohol, stat.

"What are we thinking? Beers? Shots? Margaritas?" Erick said the last word with some kind of attempt at a Spanish accent, rolling the R and shimmying his shoulders. We unanimously agreed on shots. "Somebody come help me carry them."

Scott and Chris went with him. Carlos excused himself to the restroom not long after. I was left with two enigmas in my life, one on either side of me.

I drummed my fingers on the sticky table, staring intensely at the napkin dispenser as if it were the morning news. Dallas was on his phone and Frasier seemed just as busy people-watching. Glancing in the direction that the guys went, I was disheartened to see that they were in the very back of the long, long line. And I was doomed to be stuck in this awkward situation for a while.

Dallas cleared his throat and pocketed his phone, starting to slide out of the booth. My heart sunk. "I'm going to try to get in that line for a beer before it gets longer. Want one, Thomas?" he asked. I pleaded for him to stay with my eyes, but he didn't seem to catch it.

"You want me to come with?" I offered.

"No, no, it's fine. I got it." And then he was gone. I took advantage of the available space and slid as far from Frasier as I could. This couldn't get any worse.

"Are you guys fucking?"

My eyes snapped to Frasier's. He was staring at me darkly, not looking away for anything. I could pretend I didn't hear him over the music, but I did. He knew it, too. I just rolled my eyes and looked away, squeezing my hands into fists in my lap.