Page 15 of Moments in Ink
Zia ordered a pomegranate martini, while I got my old fashioned, and when we took our first sip, I held back a moan. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my life,” I said.
“They use a cedar plank in the back and a blowtorch and use the smoke in the glass.”
“Are you serious?” I asked while taking another sip and closing my eyes. This time, I did moan. “It’s amazing.”
“I know, right? They sometimes do it up here, but with so many people, they don’t like to have the blowtorch out.”
“I could see that being a problem, but wow. I’m going to have to come back here.”
“I thought you had been here before,” she stated.
I shook my head. “One of the guys at the firm mentioned this, and I figured it sounded like a good place. And when your eyes lit when I brought it up, I assumed I had made the right choice.”
“You assumed correctly.”
We clinked our glasses together again, our gazes never leaving one another, and I had to wonder if I was making a mistake.
Because I was having too much fun. This was too easy.
And things that started off so easily, usually ended up badly for everybody involved. At least in my history.
We finished our drinks, had a huge glass of water afterward, and then made our way to the club. The bouncer let us in right away, past the line of men and women glaring at us.
“I take it you know him, too?” I asked, laughing.
Zia shrugged and handed over her coat to the coat check person. “I know a lot of people. And they like me. Usually.” She winked, and I shook my head, handing over my coat, as well.
We each took our small bags, then went back out, straight to the dance floor. We didn’t need drinks, didn’t need the intoxication of liquor in our systems.
No, the music and the people around us did that for us.
Zia had her hands on my hips, and I had mine on hers, each of us dancing, laughing, swaying to the music. She brushed up against me occasionally, and I held back a groan, wanting more, but knowing we were in public. Besides, I didn’t want to move too quickly.
The beat shocked my system, the music pounding into my body as I rubbed against Zia. And then I laughed and moved around, keeping a distance between us every so often. Others would join us, would smile at Zia and want to hug her. Men and women tried to pull her away, and she would simply roll her eyes, gently tug, and move towards me, putting her hand on the small of my back to lay claim. I did the same, giving her hip a squeeze.
Others looked at us with greedy eyes, as if wanting to join us. But not tonight. Most likely, not ever.
No, tonight I didn’t want to share. Tonight, I just wanted to live and be.
And when my feet started to hurt, my heels too tall, and Zia let out a sigh, running her hand through her hair, I pulled her off the dance floor and towards the coat check. “How about a greasy diner burger and fries?” I asked her.
“Thank God. I was going to stay out there and dance longer because I could probably last to two a.m., but then I wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
“Oh, to be twenty again,” I said, looking across the dance floor.
“Well, I’m not sure if I liked being twenty. The energy, yes. But everything else?” Zia shook her head.
“Same for me,” I said, and we took our coats and moved out to my car.
The diner was as good as Zia had said, and I made a note of it to remember next time I came out.
The burger buns were perfectly toasted, the meat at the right temp and thickness. We each got our own, me a mushroom and Swiss, her a cheeseburger with extra pickles. And we shared a basket of fries and ketchup.
I hadn’t had this much greasy food in a while, but I had burned enough calories during the night while dancing. Hopefully. Frankly, I didn’t care. I could die for this hamburger.
I hadn’t realized I had said that out loud until Zia laughed, leaned forward, and rested her head on my shoulder. An older couple glared at us, and I rolled my eyes, kissing the top of Zia’s head.
The older couple shifted away, turning and grumbling to one another before getting up from their table.