Anything but Ordinary(39)

“Aw, boo, Gab,” said another guy in a pin-striped suit, his skin a shade darker than Mary’s. “Don’t kick us out!”

“Greg made us come.” Peter pointed accusingly. Then he rolled his eyes. “He said he had to see his girl.”

Bryce followed Peter’s gaze. Greg was unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt, shrugging. She forced herself to look away from his chest. He glanced up. “How could I be apart from this beautiful lady, even for one night?”

“Awww!” Gabby squealed. She marched over to Greg and planted a kiss.

The bachelor and bachelorette parties made sounds of disgust and delight, respectively. Bryce swallowed, feeling warmth roll from inside of her to the tips of her fingers. They had all missed one very important detail.

When Greg spoke, he was looking at her.





here should be an Olympic event for taking stairs in heels, swear to freaking God,” Mary shouted in Bryce’s ear.

Fact Number Four about drunk people: they tended to shout a lot. Mary was clutching Bryce as they ascended from the lowest level of White Light. The dance club hadn’t really been thinking of its customers when installing the only set of bathrooms down a set of rainbow fiberglass steps.

On her seemingly millionth trip down the dangerous rainbow, Bryce concluded facts Number One, Number Two, and Number Three were that drunk people couldn’t stop going to the bathroom.

Bryce and Mary cleared the top step and staggered through the sea of guys and girls in the blue flashing lights, looking to Bryce like a writhing Abercrombie catalog come to life. Mary lifted her bangle-laden wrist and yelled at the bartender for another Manhattan. The brunettes were shimmying on either side of Peter, one wearing a flapper-style fringe dress, the other in a cloudy pink satin. Peter looked like he was enjoying himself. Zen was in green sparkles, glimmering like a mermaid under the colored lights.

Bryce scanned the crowd to find Gabby, and scowled. She was dancing against Greg, her lips parted and her eyes closed. Bryce would rather not look to see how Greg was finding Gabby’s backside. Instead, she looked at her feet in red pumps. They looked miles and miles away. She had always been tall; in heels she towered. She hoped her legs weren’t showing too much in the silvery, shimmery dress she’d borrowed from one of the brunettes. It was backless, and suddenly she felt too exposed.

“Are you the designated bathroom helper?” A male voice came from her side. She turned to find the shoulder of the tall, tousled-haired guy who had stolen Gabby’s crown. He gave her a tight smile. “Because I hear the stairs are dangerous, and I need to go.”

“Ha,” Bryce said. “I’m off duty at the moment.”

“What’s your name?” He turned his back to the bar and leaned. He had taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

“Bryce.”

“Tom,” he said. “I’d buy you a drink, but I noticed you’re not imbibing.” He held up a glass full of ice cubes soaking in a deep brown liquid.

“Not tonight,” Bryce said after a pause. She didn’t feel like talking about the coma right now. “I’m on a solids-only diet.”

An amused look crossed his face. “You’re funny,” he said, leaning closer to her.

“Easy crowd,” Bryce said, backing away. She could smell the liquor on his breath.

She stole a glance at Greg. He was holding up Gabby’s arm for a ballroom spin, but his gaze was in their direction.

“So what’s next for you?” Tom asked, draining his glass.

Bryce lifted her shoulders. She was sick of this question. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, I assume you’re a graduate.”

“Nope,” Bryce said, allowing herself a proud grin. “Not even high school.”

It was Tom’s turn to be confused. “So, you’re a drifter. Just a wandering soul, taking in the world.” He lifted his hand in an arc for effect. Before Bryce could respond, he said, “That’s hot.”

Bryce burst out laughing. She had just been called an attractive hobo. Tom mistook her laughter for encouragement, and he held out his hand.

“Dance with me, Bryce.”

“All right.” She took it. “As long as you don’t make me go to the bathroom with you.”

She led him between the moving mannequins to the center of the floor, just feet from Greg and Gabby. Bryce held Tom’s hands and shook her hips. She twisted her knees and dipped down low. She hadn’t danced in a long time. Dancing required muscles. It required athletics. And like anything else athletic, Bryce wanted to do it right. So she channeled her best Beyoncé, and she didn’t care who was watching.

Tom swayed from foot to foot, bobbing his head. She looked up at him and winked. Why not? He probably wasn’t going to remember tonight, anyway.

Next thing she knew, bodies were brushing past her. Greg, followed by Gabby. Greg’s face was contorted in anger. Gabby was pouting, looking over her shoulder at the dance floor.

“I need some air,” Bryce heard him say.

“I don’t!” Gabby cried happily. She twirled back onto the floor and began shimmying with Zen.

Bryce caught Greg’s eyes. He motioned his head slightly toward the exit. She looked back at Tom, who was now heavily involved in reciting the lyrics to “Party Rockers.” Back to Greg. He had moved farther away from the dance floor, and he was still looking at her.