Wes looks good. A pair of tan jeans that fit his slim frame and a navy T-shirt. It's clean and simple and hugs his body. I've caught myself staring too long a couple of times, thankful that I'm the one that has to drive, a much needed distraction.
There's a small parking lot behind the place that Wes has pointed out, one lone parking spot in the very back corner and I pull into it. I've been keeping a close eye on Wes and his tics and which ones that come out. Trying to gauge his level of anxiety but he seems relaxed like this is a normal part of his routine and I feel a ping of jealousy hit me in the chest.
At one point I knew his routine the best. But I've been gone so long and it's evident as we sit in my car that he's found a new routine. One I know nothing about. Apparently Wes has been doing just fine without me.
"Ready?" He asks, his hand reaching for the door knob but I'm yet to kill the engine and he's waiting.
At least that hasn't changed but it doesn't make me feel better.
"Yeah." I twist the key and pull it out, my car going still and dark and we climb out together into the warm summer night.
There's an energy that's thrumming off of Wes, an eagerness that I'm sure I've seen before but can't place as he walks toward the door of the bar. I follow a step or two behind, watching the way his shirt shifts across his back and the way his hips rock his waist with each step and I find my mind wandering to James. The angles of his body, the spots that I long to see and touch.
Wes tics as we step through the doors, a wave of heat rushing to greet us as bodies fill the building. It's loud, conversations blending into one another until a hum bounces from the walls and fills my ears. I'm so busy taking in my surroundings, noticing all the faces that fill the bar, trying to gauge the crowd and figure out exactly how I should portray myself that I stop just inside the door.
"They're back there!" Wes shouts, pointing to the back of the building.
And before I have a second to register his words, he grabs my hand and starts pulling me through the mass of bodies. I try to tug it back, feeling my heart leap into my throat because I don't know these people, I don't know how they'll react but Wes just squeezes my hand tighter. He slides through bodies, the other patrons unmoving like we don't exist. The air is suffocating with sweat and alcohol and I honestly can't remember the last time I was in a similar situation.
In Washington I only went out to dinner alone a handful of times, at the time I justified it as being financially conscious but really I just didn't want to be the only person eating alone.
"Wes!" I shout his name, tugging my hand again, about to tell him I don't feel well, let's just go home, when we pop out on the other side of the sea of people.
It's still crowded but less so, with couches before us and a pool table. A guy and girl lounge on the black leather couches, a beer in her hand. There's two girls playing pool, and a small trio of people lingering in the space between the pool table and the couches.
It takes seconds before the girl sitting on the couch with a beer spots us. Her face lights up, a row of perfectly white teeth on display as she discards her beer to the small coffee table and stands. She's pretty with dark hair that falls to her shoulders, glossy black under the lights of the bar. She has delicate features and a relaxed style in distressed jeans and a T-shirt that shows off a full sleeve of tattoos. There's a small nose ring looped through one side of her nose, dark eyelashes that frame her midnight blue eyes.
But it's the way she looks at Wes that really indicates to me what this outing is all about. It's a look of longing excitement, sexual desire hidden in the shadows as she grins at Wes with her arms open.
