Page 63 of Drawn Together
“He looks like his mom still pays his phone bill.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying to lower monthly costs.”
“Try again.”
I search the crowd again, eyes dancing from head to head for the next victim of Fletcher’s scrutiny. “Okay, the redhead at two o’clock.”
“You’re at two o'clock.”
“Oh. Then at the third table from the bar.”
He winces, chin jerking back and judgment in his eyes. “Flora, seriously?”
“What?” I laugh the word out, airy and scattered.
“You have poor taste.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
I take another sip of my glass, the burn easing up with each drink I take. “Then, you pick one for me.”
Fletcher scans the crowd with squinting eyes. “There.” He points, and I track the motion to a man in cut off jean shorts and red boots, the flashing lights bounce off his head and nearly blind the other dancers around him. He must’ve completely given up on learning the steps because he is just repeatedly doing this helicopter move with his hips, one hand raised and shaking in the air, the other is in his mouth as he bites at his nails.
“Oh my gosh.” I suck in a laughing breath. “Is that who you think is my even match here?”
“I don’t know if you have an even match in this entire city, Flora.”
Fletcher is grinning at me, gentle and soft, and my insides go all gooey again. My feelings are festering, growing at a rapid pace, and I have to nip this in the bud. No more messing around, I need to find someone right now.
“I’m gonna get another drink,” I shout over the loud music and stomping of boots behind us. “Do you want one?”
“Sure. Want me to go with you?”
“No, you’re gonna stand here and think about what you’ve done.” I jerk my head to the nail biter, and he shakes his head, grinning.
I make my way through the sweaty bodies up to the bar where the bartender gives me a nod. “Give me just a second.”
He is handling drinks like he’s juggling ten balls, and while I’ve never worked in the service industry, I can only imagine how stressful this crowd has to be with only two bartenders working.
“Take your time,” I smile at him. “I’m in no rush.”
That makes him look up, and oh, he is very cute.
I’m not usually a mustache girl, but his is so well kept that I feel it beckoning me. There’s something about his eyes, too—a bright blue. Kind of intense, but calm.
Yes. This one. This one could distract me long enough to shift my mind back to normal.
He gives me a quick glance over and nods. When he turns to give the proper drinks to the couple behind him, I rub my finger against my teeth in case any rogue lipstick has made its way around.
“What can I get you?”
I point to my glass. “Can I get another apple cider margarita?”
He looks to my other empty glass—Fletcher’s. “And for your friend?”
I look back to said friend and see there is a blonde in a low cut top laughing at something he said, long nails grabbing his arm,and I will be honest, Fletcher is not that funny. I add it to the cons and turn back.
