In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

TWENTY EIGHT

"So, there I was, trying to escape the clutches of a conversation about cars and random topics," I chuckle, reenacting the scene with exaggerated gestures. Morgan laughs, giving me a playful punch on the shoulder.

"You really don't know how to handle these situations, don't you?" she teases, and I shake my head in mock exasperation.

It's true, I should try to work on my facial expression on how to contain my facial expression, maybe it could help me in many situations. 

Morgan's excitement is palpable as the music shifts, and a familiar tune fills the air. The crowd's collective 'ouuu' resonates through the bar, signaling the anticipation of a favorite song.

"Come on, Jack. This one is super easy," Morgan exclaims, holding my hands and urging me to join her on the dance floor. I shake my head, a gentle but firm refusal, as I'm not one to mix alcohol and dancing. 

I love country music; it brings back memories of summer. I may not dress like a cowboy, but secretly, I wish I could. It's just that, you know, picture a hockey player rolling up to the rink with wild cowboy boots and a hat. Yep, it sounds downright cocky. 

Lost in my own thoughts, Morgan has spirited me onto the dance floor. The infectious beats of "Chicken Fried" by Zac Brown Band fill my mind as I observe Morgan effortlessly executing the dance steps with perfection. However, I soon find myself in a predicament similar to Luke's earlier, and now he's the one chuckling at my expense. "Side, behind, side, cross," Morgan shouts at me.

Feeling a bit disoriented, I decide to go along with the steps, figuring it's better than standing frozen like a clueless imbecile on the dance floor. The realization hits me that this impromptu performance might end up on the internet for the world to witness tomorrow, and I can't help but hope to at least impress Morgan with my attempts.

I knew I wasn't a great dancer, but tonight's revelation took it to a whole new level. Gotta admit, Luke is better than me on the dance floor. Now, the big question is whether Quinn, will top me or not. It's something I'll have to find out soon, maybe for future wedding speech material. 

"Cold beer on a Friday night," echoes the collective chorus of the bar. A chuckle escapes me as I catch sight of Nico slyly mimicking the dance steps in my peripheral vision. In my mind, Morgan's voice replays the dance instructions. 

Morgan looks amazing with her curly hair bouncing and a stylish yet simple outfit. The joy in her eyes is contagious, making my heart swell with happiness. We dance in sync, side by side, each step etched into my memory. 

As the song concludes, Morgan finds herself in my arms, sharing a warm and sweet hug. I hear her laughter echoing in my ears, filling me with gratitude for the connection we share. "You did great, Jack," she says, looking up at me with stars in her eyes. My heart races, not from exhaustion, but from the nervous excitement of being so close to her. 

As our friends head outside to take a breath of fresh air, Morgan and I decide to stay inside. A slower song, "Tennessee Whiskey" by Chris Stapleton, begins playing – a tune I particularly enjoy.

"I followed you on the last dance, would you like to follow me on this one?" I ask Morgan shyly.

Without much hesitation, she accepts my offer with a soft smile, extending her hand for me to pull her closer. 

Beside the table, we sway to the soft music in a dimly lit corner of the bar. I'm hoping our friends stay outside a bit longer, letting us enjoy this brief, tender moment. "Jack, am I as sweet as Tennessee whiskey tonight?" she asks me, and I let out a little giggle, realizing she's referring to the night I compared her to a Sex on the Beach cocktail. "You always are," I say softly in her ear. Little does she know, I secretly wish to taste her kind of whiskey.