Page 21 of Crazy Pucking Love
“The one I most want to go to is closed right now, but number two on my list is Howl at the Moon Dueling Piano Bar. My mom forced me to take piano lessons when I was younger, and while I didn’t stick with it long enough to get very good, I did gain an appreciation for people who can play.”
I pulled into the parking garage across the street from the bar. Then, because it was cold outside and I decided to leave my jacket so I wouldn’t have to hold on to it once we were inside, I made Dane practically run. I had a fake ID if I needed to flash it to get in, but I wasn’t planning to use it for drinks since I was driving.
The second we opened the door, the music greeted us, nice and loud.
For a random Thursday night, the place was more packed than I’d expected, most everyone out on the floor dancing and singing along as the performers on stage belted out a cover of “Shake it Off.”
“Appropriate, since we’re here to shake it off, right?” I asked.
Dane put his hand on my back and leaned down. “What was that?”
I shook my head, the noise too loud to repeat it. Instead I dragged him toward the center of the floor. He tugged against me.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood for dancing.”
“The only way to find out for sure is to dance.” Another tug and he came with me, albeit reluctantly. “It’s gonna be all right.” After we reached the middle of the crowd, I quoted the lyrics to him like profound literature, and gradually his demeanor changed, although he was letting me do all the dancing.
But once they changed songs, Dane bobbed his head to the beat, getting into things a bit more. When he refused to fully dance, I bumped my hip into his repeatedly, until he gave in. He rolled his eyes at my huge grin, but then one of his own broke free.
The lights flashed green, red, and blue, and a disco ball hung in the center of the floor, sending refracted squares over the walls and people on the floor. Before long, everyone was singing along at the top of their lungs, including Dane.
When a couple of women checked him out, I couldn’t help looping my arms around his neck.
He gripped my hips, and his thumbs slid under the hem of my shirt, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin in spite of the stifling temperature of the crowded dance floor. I lost myself to the beat, swaying my hips even more when Dane pulled me closer. One song merged into another, and the singer called someone on stage for her birthday. Every few lyrics, the female piano player/singer added in the woman’s name, and suggested people buy her drinks.
It sort of bonded the entire audience.
At last call, I checked my phone, sure it couldn’t be that close to two a.m.1:58, what do you know?
At least Dane looked happier, although I had a feeling both of us would be dragging tomorrow. In an attempt for him to actually hear my question as I asked it, I tipped onto my toes. I wobbled and almost lost my balance, leaving me no choice but to grip his biceps—it was a tough job, but somebody had to do it. Working to ignore the flush of heat that out-blasted the heat that came along with dancing for hours, I asked, “You ready to go, or do you want to wait till they officially close?”
“Let’s beat the rush,” he said, taking my hand. We wove through the crowd, and when we stepped outside, I gasped, the shock of going from sweltering to hurt-your-face cold a shock to my system.
Dane rubbed his hands up and down my arms, and as we crossed the street, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and curled me to him—like I said, tough job and all.
In regards to the tough job of keeping only friendly feelings, it definitely hit that mark.
As I fired up the car, “Kiss You” from One Direction came on the radio, and I automatically cranked the volume and bounced in my seat.
“Oh, no. Math and One Direction—I’m afraid we can’t be friends anymore. Not even late-night friends.”
“Oh, come on. It’s catchy. They should’ve played one of their songs at the bar. I better go back and request it.” I acted like I was lunging for the door, and Dane caught my arm.
“No way. I’m cutting you off.” He went so far as to reach forward and punch off my radio.
My mouth dropped. “You can’t just push my buttons.”
Mischief flickered through his eyes. “Funny, because I find I rather like pushing them. Maybe I should push more.”
The temperature in the car shot up, and I licked my lips, thinking by the time I got done with the gesture I’d have something quippy to say. I didn’t.
Dane dazedly shook his head, like he was coming back to his senses.
Panicked this would turn into an awkward moment and we’d undo our fun night, I said, “You shouldn’t slam One D. Harry got me through a really rough time in my life. We had a thing for a while.”
His forehead scrunched up, his expression saying he suspected I’d lost my mind.
“What? You didn’t see it in the tabloids? You don’t buy that he strolled through Connecticut one day and saw me and just had to have me?”
