Changers

3. The Beginning

I stood by the bar and observed Luis being flocked by a group of undergraduate students by the stage.

A demographic dominated the group: women. Every now and then I could see him watching me from the corner of his eye. I made sure to maintain my gaze and not shy away from under his.

And every time Luis did spot me, I felt a rush of desire move down my body. His dark, hooded eyes were visibly shining, even from the distance I was at. He was toying around. He was in his element. He was also strangely pleased to see me, which I'm sure mimicked what I looked like.

I had never really wanted someone as badly as I wanted Luis in that moment. I had never felt myself give into my body like I was doing, my mind shamelessly following its controlling lead.

The bar's granite countertops' gold flakes danced underneath the low-hanging chandeliers. My champagne glass had a faint pattern of engravements that made me feel classy and mysterious, like I was the main heroine in a film noir. Despite everything that stood out that night – The Green-Eyed Idiot and Luis – I never really allowed myself to pause and absorb the extravagance of the hall. A feeling of excitement overtook me. My world was briefly extravagant and new, and I was in the middle of it. The air felt electric.

The group around Luis dispersed in different directions, and before I could register what was happening, Luis slid into the bar stool next to me.

"So you're here."

His words surprised me. "Yes I am."

He looked at me intently, curiously.

The silence made me uncomfortable. I felt like I owed him an explanation. "I wasn't planning on coming until the last minute this afternoon. My friend called me because she had an extra ticket."

He stayed quiet. His shoulders lifted in a sigh. Or maybe my imagination was playing tricks on me. He broke out of his trance: "Good question today. Two vodka cranberries, please," he said, addressing the bartender.

"What makes you think I like vodka cranberries? And good answer."

He feigned a look of shock and insult. "What makes you think I was buying you a drink?"

"Who else?"

"Both are for me," he said.

"I see. You like vodka cranberries."

"I love vodka cranberries." He smiled. "Something wrong with that?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Good."

The drinks showed up and he stayed in his defiant character. Picking up both glasses in his two hands, he lifted them halfway to his mouth, looked over at me, winked, and took small sips from both glasses interchangeably. His hand movements wafted his cologne in my direction.

I reached over to the hand that was closest to me, stopping his little act. I looked him straight in the eyes as my face inched closer and pulled his pinkie from the glass so that it was left suspended into the air, monarch of Britain style. He laughed, and a sense of pride overcame me.

Clearly, I still wanted to impress him. Shit.

"Good call. There is a proper way of drinking, after all."

"Always here to help."

"Speaking of which, why are you stalking me during my unexciting panel duties?"

"As I've stated, my friend had an extra ticket. And unexciting? I don't think I would describe those riveting conversations surrounding law school admittance and interviewing unexciting. No, I'd much rather opt for electrifying, stimulating, and exhilarating. And the way you described the GPA conversion rates in the second half, wow. That... that was my personal favourite. I personally wish I had even half of the foresight to document the entire experience, but I think the Roman numeral tattoo I am drafting in my head to commemorate this date will be enough of a souvenir for the event."

"Date?" He winked.

Damn.

"Yes," I said. "The current date. October 1st, 2016. Today's date is all I'm referring to, don't get ahead of yourself."

"Well good because I have the car parked outside, and I'm also planning on getting a memorabilia tattoo, so let's make this a two-for-one event and get matching ones."

"Perfect."

He knew what I wanted and seemed to fill-in my sentences. It was too much to handle. For the first time, I looked away from him, a bit embarrassed at the intensity of my own thoughts. A part of me was fearful he knew exactly what they were.

I let the silence that followed consume me.

He didn't break it off, so I finally blurted out: "You don't strike me as a law school student. Why didn't you mention it when we first met that night at the party?"

"I guess you don't know me that well," he said with a stain of irony colouring his voice. I had the impression that he spoke cryptically. This bothered and annoyed me for some reason, as if I wasn't worthy of knowing him, or did not have the potential to understand him on a deeper level. It was almost offensive.

"You could say that meeting a person once does not reveal everything about them," I retaliated, unable to contain myself. "And if all it took was one meeting to know you, that'd be cause for concern."

"You don't need to know much," he said seriously. "Probably know enough."

"Oh?"

He shrugged his shoulders, stirring his drink. His eyes never left mine.

"Get dinner with me and we can change that," he added, his tone lightening.

"We're already there."

"Let's go somewhere else then."

I had never met anyone like him before; Luis was entirely forthcoming, while still managing to be elusive.

"Let's go," he said, downing the rest of his drink and rising out of his seat.

"Now? And dressed like this?" I looked down at my dress and his suit.

"Why not?" He challenged.

I saw no true reason apart from social custom. He grabbed my hand, capturing it in its warmth: "Don't worry, it's not dinner we are going to."

I didn't budge.

"No joie de vivre left? Has this world extinguished it all?"

"Fine." I said, completely forgetting I had arrived with more people than I was leaving with. All I could focus on was Luis' sturdy hand intertwined with mine.

Without a glance back, we left the hall.