Page 76 of Last Letters to Ara
“You shouldn’t be on the phone while you’re driving,” I chastise.
“Um....I’m not driving.”
“Well, you better get off the phone andstartdriving, taxi man, or I won’t be tipping you.” I start laughing again and this time, I’m about one laugh away from peeing my pants. “Shit. I forgot to pee!!!! Hurry, taxi man!!! I’m at the hipster bar.”
“Ara? Are you drunk?”
Wait. How does the taxi man know my name?
Someone grabs my phone from me and looks at the screen. “Hey, man, the bar is called The Swan and we’re on 30th street in St. Pete.”
I don’t wait for them to finish talking. Instead, I run for the bathroom because I can’t hold it any longer, almost ripping my jeans in half while trying to get them off in time. The relief is better than an orgasm as I lean my head against the toilet paper dispenser and close my eyes.
Everything starts spinning again, so I keep them shut. It doesn’t get any better, so I groan, telling the bathroom to stop moving. Itfinallylistens, right as the nausea starts to rise. Time disappears for a moment, leaving me feeling peaceful, until I’m woken up by my head dropping forward and I lurch upright.
Shit, how long have I been in here for?
What if Ryder thinks I’m pooping!?
I can’t remember if I already wiped, so I do it again just in case. Making quick but efficient work of my hand washing, I walk back out to the bar a moment later. I was planning to head straight for Ryder to tell him it was only a pee, when I feel the beat of the music again, pulling me toward the dance floor. Just before I reach the crowded bodies slick with sweat, someone steps in my way.
“Good, you’re alive. I was just about to come in there to make sure you weren’t drowning in your own vomit.”
“I want to dance.” I go to push Ryder out of my way, but send myself flying backward instead. “What are you made of? Cement?”
I can’t believe I’ve gone my entire life without dancing when it looks like so much fun.
“I think we should get you home.” Oh my God. I know that voice.
Theo stands right behind Ryder, trying to hide his amusement. I start walking toward the dance floor again, but strong arms wrap around my waist pulling me away.
“Hey! I want to get my groove on.”
Theo’s breath brushes my ear as he lets out a warm chuckle. “Nobody says ‘groove’ unless they are certifiably wasted.”
“I’m not wasted!” I still find it in myself to sound indignant, despite the chills he’s sent over my entire body with his touch.
“Someone saying they aren’t wasted is the biggest proof that they are, in fact, wasted.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” I growl.
“It would if you weren’t wasted,” he whispers in my ear, close enough that I feel the softest caress of his lips, barely even a touch.
The arms around my waist loosen just slightly, so he can drag his hands to my hips. I’m not sure whether it’s because he’s afraid to let go in case I make a run for it—or pass out—or if he just can’t stop himself from exploring my body with his hands. Either way, a trail of desire is being left in their wake as he brings them to my hips, gripping me harder.
Oh.This issomuch better than dancing.
Just as I lean my backside into him in appreciation, I’m lifted straight up and plopped onto a barstool like a toddler. Part of me wants to unpack how hot that was, but I’m too disgruntled about the lack of personal dignity to focus.
“Ryder? Can we get some water over here?” asks Theo.
“What are you guys friends now or something?” I say in accusation.
“I’d be friends withanyonewho helps me get water into your system, but yeah, he’s an old buddy of Connor’s, actually.”
“What a small world,” I mutter.
Of course, I managed to pick theonebar in St. Pete where the bartender would be connected to Theo. The number of coincidences where he is concerned are starting to add up. Technically, this time I had to call him to tell him where I was, but still, I’m going to be really pissed if he ends up being a guardian angel or something stupid.
