“Because you girls love to dance, which attracts all kinds of fools, and then I’ll be forced to beat them all up.” I needed to unwind, not get all worked up again. I might attack Grace on the dance floor, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be down with that.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t come to the bar with us.”
“That’s a negative.” I shook my head to emphasize my words.
“Oh come on, Noah. It won’t be that bad,” she wheedled.
“It will be.”
“Don’t you dance in the ring?”
“It’s called the Octagon. And only because I’m trying to avoid being punched in the face. That’s not the right attitude to have on the dance floor,” I said, impatiently. I wanted to get Grace alone and ask her a very important question about her past experience with other guys. My desire for her coupled with the post-fight adrenaline made me restless and uneasy. I’d settle down once I had her in my bed, and could show her how little any guys she’d had in her past mattered.
“You aren’t going to talk me out of this, because I already abandoned Lana earlier tonight,” Grace insisted.
“Why don’t we go to the Americana? They have bands. I’m sure there is a dance floor there, because that’s where my roommate Adam broke his leg,” I offered.
“You know, when you are upset, your accent becomes more pronounced.”
“We don’t have accents, sugar,” I laid it on thick. “It’s you Yanks that have foreshortened all the good words, so they aren’t even any fun to say anymore.”
“Well, cowboy, are you going to meet us out or are you gonna wait with your horses at the campfire?”
“You have a terrible drawl, but don’t worry, I’ll give you all the tutoring you need.” This tutoring would require for us to both be naked and my tongue all over her body, but I kept that to myself.
After a bunch of texting with Lana, it was agreed. She’d meet us at the Americana.
Grace wanted to go home to change. Given that she had a mixture of my blood and sweat all over her, I didn’t argue. I drove her home, and she said she’d meet us at the bar.
Bo taped a small cut above my eye that must have come from the weak, late head butt, and I pulled out a T-shirt and jeans that I had thrown in the bag.
While the Americana wasn’t a bevy of hot chicks like a college party, there usually were plenty of women here. But tonight it was like a 10 to 1 ratio of guys to girls. Our group, composed of the five roommates and three guys from the Spartan gym, wasn’t helping much.
We were all relieved that Grace and her friends were coming.
“Is the band like a bunch of rapists or something?” I asked Adam, who was slumped sullenly in his chair.
“Nah, screamers though. Kind of like Slipknot wannabes.” That explained it. Few women were going to want to sit through a bunch of bad headbangers.
“Don’t text that to Grace,” Bo said, grabbing my hand.
“What am I, twelve?” I shook him off. Of course I wasn’t going to text Grace, who wanted to go dance at some techno hip-hop club, that she was in for a night of heavy metal rock. “But you know she isn’t going to want to stay long.”
“I know. Didn’t you say there was a party over on Forest?”
“Yeah. Grace’s cousin is trying to hunt down some frat guy tonight and thinks he’ll be there.”
“The lovely Lana is single?” Bo raised his eyebrows. That was the first interest he’d tossed in that direction.
“Apparently her boyfriend accidentally forwarded a nude picture of some woman he hooked up with over the summer,” I explained. The entire table was now leaning in listening to our conversation. I felt like I was in the middle of some goddamn church picnic where everyone got together to gossip about their neighbor while pretending not to really care.
“Ouch,” Bo grimaced. “Rookie mistake.”
“Who’s lovely Lana?” Mal asked.
“Lovely Lana,” Bo said, “is a glorious blonde creature.”
“You hitting that?” Mal asked.
“Nope,” Bo leaned in. I could tell he was going to impart one of his dating philosophies. He had many. “There are only two circumstances in which you sleep with your wingman’s girl’s friend.” He pointed to me. “First, when all you’re doing is hooking up casually. Second,” he lifted another finger, “when you think you’re both going to marry those girls. Otherwise, you dip your wick elsewhere.”
“Why’s this?” Mal said.
“Don’t encourage him,” I protested.