Atonement(41)

Colin had chosen to wear a pair of black slacks and a white silk shirt which complimented his naturally lean body while I had opted for a tight black cashmere sweater, a short red skirt, black tights and black knee-length four-inch boots I had gotten on sale at the Christian Louboutin boutique the last time I’d visited Vegas.

We certainly didn’t stand out and no one gave us a second look. Colin was tall and blond, like around fifty percent of the crowd and although I could not be mistaken for being an ethnic Norwegian, the place was a regular United Nations. There were people from all over the world enjoying a beer with friends and colleagues as they spoke animatedly, mostly in Norwegian.

We sat at a table and I sipped from my lager. It was strong but went down smoothly. I people watched as he pulled out a pack of Camel Crush and politely offered one to me. I knew I shouldn’t as I had done so well at quitting beforehand but as a former ex-smoker, the thought of sitting there and not indulging was too tempting so I took one and he immediately lit it for me.

He lit his own cigarette, inhaled and exhaled with ecstasy. “Oh, wow. That’s what I have been missing. Once we get back to Seattle, I’ll quit again but it’s just too tempting being here not to do it.”

“Yes, smoking does seem very European, doesn’t it?” I inquired before we both laughed and it came so easily to both of us. “So, how did you find this place anyway? I was expecting some ratty little dive with bad eighties music playing on the jukebox, surrounded by kids at university.”

“How do we ever find places? I Googled nightclubs in Oslo and this one seemed promising. Technically, it isn’t a nightclub but there are some pretty cool ones not far from here if you’re in the mood later. I thought this could be our first place to explore. We could have a couple of drinks, loosen up and then head to a nightclub.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said as I swigged from my lager and began to enjoy the nice buzz I was experiencing.

I wanted this to feel a bit weird awkward between us because two people who barely knew one another shouldn’t feel so comfortable with each other. The problem with this situation was we’d been sharing the same bed for the past week though neither one of us had tried anything sexual with one another.

Actually, the most intimate activity that had happened between us was a bit of cuddling and spooning but we’d both been clothed at the time. It was moments like that I felt like we were two inexperienced teenagers who didn’t know exactly where this would go but we liked being with one another so it was enough for the time being.

Now, here we were at an upscale beer bar sharing lagers and cigarettes. It felt so post-university, the thought actually made me laugh. I forgot the outrageous prices charged for a glass of lager was not something we had to worry about as we weren’t backpackers. We were both grown people who could most definitely afford this trip we had taken, including the side excursion to Norway, one of the most expensive countries in the world.

The prices didn’t even put a dent in our prospective budgets, and thus one lager turned into two which turned into three. The more we drank, the more festive we became and the louder we seemed to laugh.

There were so many silly moments that had happened since we’d been there in that week and Colin was great at recalling them before he’d have me in stitches as he would talk about said incident. We smoked too much and had way too much fun but I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else at that moment.

Colin had just returned from the bar with another set of lagers. We were working our way through their selection on tap and it proved as enjoyable as our witty conversation. I’d just swigged from my newest lager when a female voice inquired, “Colin, is that you?”

My smile disappeared and I turned in what seemed like slow motion to come face to face with a beautiful young woman. She was our age easily though she looked quite young. Her brilliant mocha skin glowed under the subdued lights and her eyes were bright. She was short, no more than five feet and a few inches give or take and no more than one hundred and ten pounds.

Her clothes were strictly designer label and everything from her makeup to her short pixie hair cut screamed money. She wore a pair of dark indigo boot cut jeans, a pale gray vicuna sweater that had a deep-V which emphasized her breasts and a pair of black five-inch booties with the prominent red-soled bottoms on display as she sat across from him and crossed slim legs.

“Clarissa, what are you doing here?” he wondered though his voice was a mixture of happiness, annoyance and curiosity.