All That and a Bag of Chips

Chapter 11

Collin didn't understand texting. It was stupid to slowly spell out your message, punching in numbers multiple-times until the letter you wanted popped up. He guessed it was better than paging someone using cryptic numeric codes–barely. It would have been easier to just call, but Heather had said to text, so he did.

She told him to meet her and her friends at ten outside of the Irish pub that was a couple of blocks down from his usual drinking spot. But she was late. He knew this because it was 10:04 and he was standing alone, his flip phone in his palm, re-reading her text back to him.

That was one benefit of having written communication. He knew for a fact that he wasn't misremembering the plan.

Sam had refused his request to join him. "If I wanted to go dancing at a straight bar and be hit on by slobbering neanderthal guys, I would have stayed in the closet."

He thought about calling Tom. But despite Tom's joke earlier, there was no chance he would actually be caught dead on a dance floor. If Heather had asked him to come sit in her dorm room and smoke a blunt, then Tom would've been his guy.

Instead, at 10:07, Collin was standing alone outside the bar, questioning his choice of outfit–short-sleeved blue collared shirt, faded jeans, and a pair of Vans–when a group of boisterous college guys walked by, tall, scruffy, and with bulging biceps.

He was watching them disappear up the steps that led to the second-floor bar when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you weren't waiting long," Heather greeted him.

"No, not at all." Collin shifted his stance to face her and her two stunning friends. "Just got here. Actually, I was worried I was late."

One friend, a tall blond in a tube top and miniskirt, flipped her hair. "Looking this good can't be rushed."

"Collin, this is my friend Veronica. And this," she gestured at friend number two, a girl with wavy black hair cut to her shoulders and ridiculously high chunky platforms, "is Monica."

"Nice to meet you both," Collin said, biting his tongue to keep from making any smart aleck comment about their rhyming names. "Hope you didn't need to walk far in those shoes."

"Just a few blocks. We live at the Holiday Inn." Heather said, gesturing towards the San Lorenzo River.

"We're not bums. It's off-campus housing," Veronica added, Monica nodding in agreement.

Collin chuckled. "I know it well. I lived there my sophomore year."

"Come on. Enough chit-chat. Let's dance," Veronica announced abruptly and walked towards the door, Monica following.

Heather turned to Collin. "Sorry. Don't mind her."

They walked up to the doorway, where the bouncer was checking IDs. Collin pulled out his wallet and held his breath as the guy scanned for his birthday and handed it back. After getting a neon yellow stamp in the shape of a shamrock on the back of their hands, they walked up the narrow stairway, the floor sticky with spilled drinks.

As they reached the top, they were bombarded by blasting dance music and a crush of bodies. There didn't seem to be an official dance floor, but instead, it was an undulating mass that pressed right up to the bar.

"Can I buy you ladies a drink?" Collin shouted over J. Lo's Jenny from the Block.

"Sure!" Veronica answered for them. "Three cosmos for us!"

So, he elbowed his way to the bar and flagged down the bartender–a beefy guy with a bald head–and waited for him to finish up serving the group of guys that Collin had seen enter the bar earlier. He then ordered three cosmos and one seven and seven. His drink arrived in a highball glass, the other three in long-stemmed martini glasses. Luckily, he didn't need to carry them over. As soon as Collin paid, Veronica and Monica grabbed their drinks. He handed Heather's drink to her.

"Cheers!" He raised his glass and drank deep.

"Let's dance." Heather tugged on his arm, and they melted into the surrounding melee.

As the alcohol loosened his muscles and the crowd pushed in around them, Collin felt his body relax into the beat. Heather was in front of him, leaning forward with her hands mid-thigh, bouncing slightly, her eyes half-closed. He studied her. Her hint of cleavage and the curve of her breast. The line of her collarbone and the swoop of her neck. It was the first time he'd seen her in makeup, and her lips glimmered and her cheeks sparkled.

He tried not to think of Avery, but regardless, her face bobbed in front of his eyes. The last time they'd gone out dancing had been prom. That was also probably the only time he'd seen her in make-up. And she never wore clothes or shoes like any of the women who filled this establishment with their blinged-out jewelry and crop tops and low-rise jeans. He felt transported to some other planet. It was as exhilarating as it was disconcerting.

Was this where he belonged? Or was he just as much of an imposter here as he was at the club where Sam was now?

He needed to get outside of his head, so he leaned forward toward Heather. "Do you like living at the Holiday Inn?"

"What?" she yelled into the thrumming bass.

"Do you like the dorms?" he tried again.

"I never lived on campus. I'm a transfer student," she shouted directly into his ear.

"Oh cool. So, did you just meet Monica and Veronica this year?"

"Yeah, yeah. They're really nice, though."

The song changed, and soon everyone was singing along to the chorus of Right Thurr.

Heather turned and some random guy with glasses and a goatee started dancing with her, holding onto her hips. Collin looked around, continuing to dance solo, half wondering where Adonis from Thursday night was. Probably over at the gay club.

After a minute, she was back, having maneuvered away from the rando. "Did you know that guy?" Collin was compelled to ask.

She shook her head. "Guys can be so creepy sometimes."

"I'm a guy." Collin hoped he was stating the obvious.

She let out an agreeable grunt and stepped towards him. "It's rare to find a guy who likes to dance for the sake of dancing."

"Well, I'm a special kind of guy," he answered, watching how she slid her hands on her thighs as she moved, wondering what it would take to get those hands to touch him instead. "Best of both worlds, in fact."

She laughed. "Does that pickup line work for you?"

The space between them shimmered from the increased heat. He let his knee bump against hers. "I don't know," he breathed into her ear. "Is it working?"