"Anyway, I don't really want to talk about it because there is nothing to say. We messed around, I enjoyed it, he clearly regretted it, end of story," I conclude.
"Righhhht," Rachel draws. "Except you work for him so have to see him five days a week, and you may just be in love with him … "
At this I give her a warning look. She may know me as well as I know myself, but I'm definitely not ready to talk about being in love with Ian. I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen.
"Anyway, it seems like there is no way for this story to be over unless you quit, or hash it out with him."
"He's not the type to sit around and talk about emotions, Rae. I'm telling you - this is over. Me and Ian, not gonna happen," I say with a firm shake of my head.
She looks at me skeptically, but doesn't say anything further. We finish off the wine talking about nothing of consequence then decide to head out and get some dinner.
I've done a fair amount of exploring by this point and decide to take her to this little hole in the wall Mongolian BBQ place. The food is delicious but kills our buzz, so we decide to head to McGregors. Rachel is dying to lay eyes on Ian, and the crew all promised to be there so they could meet her.
I walk in first, slowing to take off the light sweater I had worn to dinner, and behind me I hear Rachel exclaim, "Holy shit!"
I glance quickly from her to where she is staring. Yep, she's spotted Ian. At the moment, some stunning redhead is trying to engage him in conversation, perched on the edge of her barstool and leaning across the bar towards him, but he's staring at me. Or rather, he's staring at my breasts. I forgot I was only wearing a spaghetti-strapped tank top under my sweater. Oh well, he can look all he wants. Let him get a good look at what he is missing.
I turn to Rae and mutter, "Yep, that's him."
"Holy shit, Kel," Rachel says again. "He's gorgeous."
I turn and face her then, "Yes, I know Rachel. Hence the problem."
I say it very matter of factly and then we both crack up. We are such dorks.
The tension broken, I lead her over to the center of the bar where the gang is sitting.
"All," I say in a loud voice, "this is my Rachel. Rachel this is Tom, Wilson, Abby and Ben. Jaye at home with the fam?"
Abby nods before saying, "Nice to meet you, Rachel. Now, tell us the most embarrassing story you can think of about Kelli."
"How did I know that you'd go straight for the jugular?" I ask. "How about we sit down, get a drink, and talk for a bit before you start digging for dirt?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Abby asks.
"Rachel, free drinks all night if you can give us something we can work with," Ian says. He holds out his hand, "I'm Ian, nice to meet you."
Rachel, unable to speak, reaches out and takes his hand. I know she wants to be mad at him for me. She wants to glare at him and give him the cold shoulder. But he's too beautiful, and she's too nice. Instead she gives him a goofy grin and says nothing.
Tom, Wilson and Ben all greet her. While they are exchanging introductions, Ian asks me, his eyes cast down at the bar, "What are you two drinking?"
"Wine. Red." I say.
He nods and sets about pouring us a couple glasses. He pushes mine towards me and I reach out to get it, accidentally touching his hand in the process. Our eyes meet briefly and I see such longing in his that I freeze. Those aren't the eyes of someone who wished our encounter hadn't happened.
I open my mouth to say something, what, I don't know. But he turns away, "Pamela, what were you saying about that photo shoot you and your friends are doing?" He returns to the redhead, who is apparently a model, and effectively dismisses me. Fuck him.
I pull my attention back to Rachel and hand her the other glass of wine.
"Well this one Halloween she dressed up as Elvira and got so drunk -" Rachel is saying.
"Whoa!" I shout, placing myself physically between Rachel and the group. "They do NOT need to hear that story, Rachel."
"Come on," Abby says.
"Let her finish," Tom implores.
Even Ben pipes up with, "I thought you didn't drink?"
"I said I don't drink a lot, not that I never drink," I clarify. "Plus, this was in college, when I still had my gallbladder."
"Let me finish the story, Kel. It is hilarious!" Rachel says.
"Actually, aren't you jet lagged? Isn't it almost midnight your time?" I ask hopefully.
"Nope, it's only like 11:00pm. I'm good," she says sweetly.
"Bringing you here was a bad idea," I say shaking my head. "What the hell was I thinking?"
"I have no idea," Rachel responds with a twinkle in her eye. "But, since I'm here … "
"...You might as well humiliate me to the point where I'll never want to show my face here again?" I finish for her.
"Exactly!" She says, beaming. "Anyway, Kelli was dressed up as Elvira and she had on this velvet skirt with a slit way up the thigh, and a shirt that laced up the front. A good portion of her stomach and breasts were bared for all the world to see."
"Damn, I bet you were a hot Elvira," Tom says, eyeing me in a none too subtle way.
"Who's Elvira?" Wilson asks.
"The Mistress of the Dark," Ben says. Wilson shakes his head, still clueless.
"She used to host horror movies on TV," Abby explains.
"And she's known for her amazing tits!" Tom offers helpfully. "Oh, and her black hair."
"Oh, okay, I think I know who you are talking about," Wilson says, rather unconvincingly. Oh Wilson, so sweet and innocent.
"Well Tom, you are correct, Kelli was a very hot Elvira," Rachel says. She's getting tipsy again and Rachel is most assuredly an affectionate drunk. She'll be exaggerating my attributes for the rest of the night, no doubt.
"And her favorite song came on."
"What's her favorite song?" they ask in unison.
"Pour Some Sugar On Me, by Def Leppard," Rachel says enthusiastically.
The group groans and I hang my head in my hands. This is so embarrassing.
"Well, one of our friends said, ‘They play this song in strip clubs all the time. Who's gonna strip?' And Kelli, who loves to dance, and loves the song, jumps up and volunteers."
"Oh my god, please tell me you have this recorded!" Abby interrupts.
Rachel shakes her head, "No, unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?" I ask.
Rachel continues, ignoring me, "Everyone was pretty caught up in the moment; no one thought to pull out a phone. Anyway, Kelli grabs a chair and brings it to the center of the room. She picks this guy she had a crush on and sits him in the chair and proceeds to give him a very good lap dance." Cat calls interrupt her. "I'm not sure if you've seen her dance, but she's really good. Man, did she work this guy over. I have no idea where she learned all those moves." She pauses and looks at me, "Where did you learn those moves? Were you a stripper and I never knew about it?"
"If you were stripping to work your way through college, we'd all understand. No judgment," Wilson says.
I shake my head, mortified. I peek up, hoping to see Ian still engaged with the redhead, but no such luck. He's listening to Rachel and grinning along with the rest of them.
"Damn," Tom says. "We need to get you to drink more!" He exchanges a look with Wilson, who nods his head in agreement before yelling to Ian, "Dude, another round for the ladies over here!"
"No!" I shout, stopping Ian in his tracks. "No more alcohol, we are going home!"
"Aww, come on," Wilson says.
"Party pooper," Abby chimes in.
"I'll pay you fifty bucks for another story," Tom says. "Kelli doing a lap dance as Elvira? That's going to keep me going for a couple weeks."
I know they are only messing with me, and we all have our stupid college stories; the real issue is Ian. As much as I'd like to ignore him, to pretend he doesn't exist and I don't care what his opinion of me is, the truth is I care very deeply and anything that makes me look foolish is horribly embarrassing.
I push a credit card at Ian to pay for our drinks.
He shakes his head, "Totally on the house. That story was worth it." His voice sounds warm, so I chance a glance at him. He's smiling down on me, and he quietly says, so only I can hear, "It'll keep me going for weeks too. And I think I have a new favorite song."
I roll my eyes and blush furiously at the same time. I turn from him then, annoyed with myself. I'm pissed at him; I can't let him flirt with me. Damn him.