Salsa music thumped across the street as everyone climbed out of the limousine Carlos insisted on renting for the night. The pavement was still slick from an earlier drizzle, but the clouds had parted, allowing the moon to shimmer silver light onto puddles. Amos couldn't remember the last time he went dancing as the neon sign flashed against the building of Pura Nightclub. It wasn't his type of scene. He preferred more intimate places like lounges and bars, where people didn't have to shout over the music to talk.
The ride there had been a stuffy one, with Carlos and Cassandra's friends jammed like sardines, bass bumping, and everyone pre-partying with champagne. Amos could barely even get in small-talk with Yvette from all the commotion, and it was like a preview of what the night would entail. He was already overwhelmed as he tugged at the collar of his button-up shirt.
However, Cassandra was right. Yvette was gorgeous, and she seemed equally apprehensive as she adjusted the thin straps on her silky, emerald, thigh-skimming dress. Yet, it was oddly comforting knowing he wasn't the only uncomfortable one in the group.
"Bro-Montana!" Carlos threw his arm around him. "We're looking good tonight."
"We look like our mother dressed us as twins for picture day."
"What? No way!" Carlos smoothed his hands down the embroidery on the white Guayabera, which matched Amos's. "Our shirts might be the same, but our pants are different."
"Thank God. I wouldn't be caught dead in those leather pants. Did you paint them on?"
"No. But my junk looks amazing in them. My ass too."
"Cass, I could have sworn the deal was my brother had to wear normal pants," Amos grunted.
"Did you think he would listen?" Cassandra sighed.
"Touché."
"You two are squares. These pants look good on me!" Carlos huffed.
"Yes, they do, babe." Cassandra winked and squeezed his butt. "Damn good."
"Damn straight." Carlos adjusted his collar. "Now, let's get in there and dance!"
"I'll be very impressed if you can salsa in those pants," Amos snorted.
"Trust me, bro. Watch and learn."
Taking the lead, Carlos began crossing the street, and the group followed like one giant possie of clacking high heels and cologne floating into the skyline of buildings. Trying to be a gentleman, Amos offered his arm to Yvette.
"Thank you." She smiled, enhancing her dimples.
"Ever been here before?"
"First time."
"Same. So, it sounds like we'll experience this together then."
"If we ever get inside...." Yvette eyed the long line curling around the street.
"Nah, don't worry about it," Carlos said over his shoulder. "I reserved VIP. No velvet ropes for us to jump over."
"Why didn't you say something? I would have pitched in," Amos replied.
"Don't worry about it, hermano! I've got connections. Now follow me."
They made their way past the line of flashy nightclubers and right up to the doorman, where Carlos high-fived a muscular man holding an iPad. Then, after a few whispered exchanges in each other's ears and shaking hands, the rope parted, and just like that, their group was motioned inside.
The place immediately swallowed them in strobe light and neon laser beams, along with music so loud Amos could feel every beat rattle his ribcage. It was going to be a long night of yell-talking over each other, and he was already looking forward to going home as they inched their way to the reserved area. Their section was on the other side of the club, which meant weaving through sweaty, swaying bodies on the dance floor.
"It's crowded," Yvette shouted, but she might as well have been whispering.
"What?" Amos leaned in.
"It's crowded."
Amos shook his head, still not understanding, so this time he watched her mouth as she repeated herself. Right as he was about to respond, a couple bumped into them mid-dramatic spin. It caused Yvette to stumble forward and slam into Amos, so he caught her by the waist, and their eyes locked as she mouthed an apology.
"It's ok," he shouted. "I have a feeling it'll happen a lot tonight."
"Yeah..." she forced a laugh and smoothed down her dress. "This isn't my scene."
"Mine either. Too loud and crowded."
"Exactly, but Cass insisted I come."
"Me too. She can be a bit bossy, huh? But she's perfect for my brother. She keeps him in check."
Glancing over at the VIP section, Carlos waved his arms about, his words vacuumed by the music, but knowing his brother, he was probably saying to get their asses over there.
"Guess we better keep moving," Yvette shouted over the music.
"Guess so."
Offering his elbow again, the two of them navigated through the crowd and past a velvet rope, where their entourage was getting comfortable. Carlos wasted no time flagging a cocktail waitress to get the bottle service going. Within minutes the waitress in a tiny black dress arrived with a tray full of shots. At first, Amos refused, but Carlos shoved the drink into his hands.
"Chug it!"
"I don't know if it's a good idea to mix tequila with champagne."
"Oh my god, Amos. Did Lorena suck out your soul? Live a little!"
"I don't want a hangover. I've got guitar lessons lined up tomorrow."
"Who cares! Fuck it. Live in the moment. Now drink it."
Staring at the clear liquid in the shot glass as it glinted under strobe light, Amos exhaled, pressed the drink to his lips, and down his throat it went.
"Eso! There you go. Now have another."
"Nah, man. I think I'm good."
"Dude, have another!" Carlos shoved one more into his hand. "On the count of three."
The burning liquid caused Amos to tug at his collar and clear his throat. "Satisfied?"
"No way. I'll be satisfied when I see you take Yvette onto the dancefloor and show her how the Castillos get down!"
"Then I'll definitely need another because you're the one who inherited dad's rhythm when it comes to salsa dancing. So, if I'm going to embarrass myself, I might as well have a good buzz."
"Hell yeah! Let's get you a cold beer."
As his brother whirled around to search for the cocktail waitress, the booze began taking effect as a shiver of tingles coursed through Amos's limbs. A few feet over, Cassandra gave Yvette the same treatment as she topped off her champagne glass. The poor girl held her hand up, signaling to stop, but his brother's partner in crime kept pouring. Clearly, the two lovebirds were on a mission to get them drunk.
With each song that played, time seemed to tick quickly while everyone drank, laughed, and danced. Yet, Amos and Yvette remained seated for five songs while trying their best to chat over the booming music. After a while, it became pointless, so instead, they simply smiled at one another while taking sips of their drinks.
So far, Yvette was very different from Lorena. She was reserved and perhaps even a little demure as she repeatedly adjusted her dress to cover her cleavage. Had he been there with Lorena, she would have been the center of attention, dominating conversations while dressed in sky-high stilettos and a dress tighter than Carlos's pants. Lorena was also an incredible dancer. Her rhythm naturally flowed to any beat thrown at her, so she would have been the queen of the night.
As Amos sat there rubbing the beads of moisture on his beer bottle, he remembered the last time they danced together. They flew to Miami two years prior for a four-day weekend getaway and filled their bellies with Cuban food during the day, but in the evening would sweat off the calories in crowded, bougie nightclubs. Lorena thrived in the environment. He recalled feeling like the luckiest man on earth as men broke their necks admiring her skin-tight outfits. Because at the end of the day, he was the one who got to take her back to the hotel and have his way with her.
Now, the memory existed in an ocean of thoughts like a water buoy lost at sea. Thoughts that would always be there, like pulsing reminders of how things used to be with Lorena. Reminders of how the relationship went downhill after that trip, and he'd never be able to pinpoint why. Maybe it was inevitable to drift? To fall out of love after five years?
However, he refused to believe that because his parents were an example of undying love and had his father not passed away suddenly, his parents would still be happily married.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tried snapping out of his thoughts and took a sip of beer. Yvette was sweet, so he needed to try harder, and Carlos would be disappointed if he didn't put in a better effort. However, he also owed it to himself to give the date his all.
"Want to dance?" He gestured to the swaying bodies.
"Sure." Yvette nodded.
"I gotta warn you, though, I'm not the greatest salsa dancer."
"I'm not either. Guess we'll just have to wing it."
"Alright, let's do it."
Amos took her hand and helped Yvette get to her feet. With his palm on the small of her back, he guided her into the pit of dancers. Carlos and Cassandra made a show of it with dramatic spins while grinding in time with the beat. But it wasn't their dancing that was impressive. It was the fact Carlos kept his word and managed to pull off moves only someone like him could do in impossibly tight pants.
"Ready?" Yvette held out her hands, getting into a dancing position.
"Ready." Amos curled his palm around her silk-covered waist and stepped forward with a sway to his hips. Yvette stepped back, mirroring his movement. "We're looking good so far."
"There you go!" Carlos cheered. "Show them who's got better moves than Jagger."
For a few back-to-back songs, Amos and Yvette giggled as they sashayed across the dance floor with their safe footwork while others in their group were more daring and showing off. Under the strobe light and neon laser beams, Amos had a better view of the freckles across Yvette's cheeks and how she scrunched her nose in excitement whenever he spun her around. Unlike Lorena, who was curvy yet fit from intense gym workouts, Yvette was slim, with smaller hips and breasts. And when she giggled, she covered her mouth instead of tossing her head back like Lorena.
It was hard not to compare them, and somewhere in there was the curiosity of how Carmela stacked up. Was she short or tall? Was her voice soft or deep? If she were on the dance floor, would she draw attention like Lorena or be oblivious of men's gazes like Yvette?
After a while, Amos's shirt clung to the sweat on his back, and Yvette's straight hair was curling at the edges of her face, where beads of moisture accumulated.
"Wants some fresh air?" He shouted into her ear.
"Ok." She nodded.
Outside, they leaned against the building, where the music pulsed through the masonry. A chill drifted through the street along with clouds across the navy blue sky. Light pollution twinkled from surrounding buildings, blocking out any sign of constellations. For the briefest moment, Amos remembered the star-dusted sky in Big Sur from when he and Lorena sat outside of a bed and breakfast, admiring the wilderness.
It felt like another life as he stood there with Yvette.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" she asked.
"Depends on the situation. I'm an intro-extrovert."
"I'm a bit of an introvert myself. Plus, it's hard making conversation in places like this. I told Cass I didn't want to come, but she wouldn't take no for an answer."
"I didn't want to come either," Amos chuckled. "So, what's your reason?"
"Well..." Yvette chewed her bottom lip, gazing at him, and tucked a few strands of sweaty blond hair behind her ears. "I recently got out of a relationship, so I haven't been in the mood to get gussied up and put myself out there. How about you?"
"I just got out of a relationship too."
"How long were you together?" she asked.
"Five years."
"Oh, wow. Ok, you win. My relationship was eight months, but it felt serious. Like we could really go the distance, you know? Which is why it sucked so bad when he blindsided me with the whole, 'it's me, not you,' speel."
"Ouch, that stings," Amos winced.
"So, why did you break up?"
"It was a long time coming. We didn't see eye to eye on many things, and the differences which initially fueled our attraction became what put us at odds. Unfortunately, everything boiled over when she started cheating on me with two coworkers."
"Oh... wow," Yvette gasped, a hand going to her chest. "Ok. You win again. That's awful."
"Yeah, so that's why I didn't want to come tonight," Amos replied. "Not that I was dreading meeting you. In fact, you've been a pleasant surprise because when Cass described you, I thought you'd be another version of Lorena."
"Lorena?"
"My ex. She's gorgeous and knows it. Draws a lot of attention when she walks into a room."
"Well, that's definitely not me!" Yvette snorted.
"Are you kidding? Do you not see the heads turning as you walk by?"
"To look at me?" She pointed to her chest, her brows shooting towards her hairline.
"Yes. Do you seriously not notice?"
"Honestly, no. Men usually drool over Cass. Not me."
"Well, in case you didn't know. You're stunning."
"No way. I have these awful freckles." She stroked her cheeks. "And I have like, zero curves. I'm shaped like a pencil."
"Ok, one, your freckles are adorable. Especially when you scrunch up your nose when you laugh. And two..." Amos stepped closer, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "You have curves. They're just small, but you have enough to hold onto when we dance."
"Amos..." Yvette scrunched her nose and darted his gaze with a giggle. "Are you flirting with me?"
"Maybe."
"Gosh, it's been forever since I've been flirted with." She glanced back up. "It's kinda nice."
"It's been a while for me too. I forgot how much fun it is—the rush of it."
"Same! And oh gosh..." Yvette leaned her head against the masonry, her eyes closing briefly. "You know what really I miss?"
"What?"
"Kissing."
"Kissing?" Amos echoed back.
"Yes. And not just pecks on the lips. I'm talking about deep kisses. Makeout kisses! I swear, it's my favorite thing to do."
Amos studied her, taking in the sprinkle of sweat on her chest as it expanded with each breath and the way the silky, emerald neckline of her dress draped. The bright lights illuminating the building set her hair aglow, accentuating the fine blonde frizz crowning her head. Yvette wasn't just beautiful; she was sexy and sweet, easy to talk to—someone he should want to explore possibilities with. Taking a chance, Amos began toying with a tendril of her hair and looked her in the eyes.
"Feel like kissing me?"
"Right now?" Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed.
"Yeah, why not?"
"Ok." She bit her bottom lip and straightened.
At first, they stared at one another with shy smiles of hesitation, but then Amos tilted forward, his hands cupping around her face and taking claim of her mouth. Yvette slid her arms around his waist while experimenting with another soft peck before pausing.
"Wait," she whispered and dragged his hands down to her hips before trailing her palms up to his neck and pulling him back to her mouth. "Better."
They met with lips partially open this time, accepting the delicate, warm, and wet caress of each other's tongue. For five years, Amos had kissed the same woman. For five years, he only knew Lorena's touch. So, Yvette was foreign under his fingertips. Even her soapy scent mixed with sweat was different. And somewhere in the back of his mind was the pulsing thought of Carmela. Would kissing her feel foreign too? Because so far, there wasn't the spark Amos was hoping to feel upon kissing Yvette.
After a few more seconds, they pulled away, and Yvette smiled, her eyes flitting from his as she leaned against the masonry.
"Not bad."
"But?" Amos leaned next to her.
"It's weird kissing someone new after getting out of a long relationship. Isn't it?"
"Yes! Very."
"I didn't think it would be." She furrowed her brows and began fidgeting with the straps on her emerald dress. "I really liked him, you know? I thought he was the one. He met my parents and got along with my friends. We went to Hawaii and had weekend getaways. I just don't understand what I did wrong?"
"I don't think you did anything wrong."
"But then why did he blindside me? I mean, one moment we're holding hands walking to a restaurant—our restaurant—the one where we had our first date, and next thing I know, he's saying that we'd be better off as friends. I just don't get it. I thought we were happy. We even talked about moving in together. So was it all a lie? Did he even mean it when he told me he loved me?"
"I'm sorry he did that to you." Amos tilted her chin towards him and looked her in the eyes. "There is nothing wrong with you. He wasn't your person, and you deserve someone who will talk about moving in together and mean it. You deserve someone who wants a forever with you."
"You do too, you know," Yvette replied. "We only met a few hours ago, but you can tell a lot about a person within minutes, and you're a good guy Amos. You deserve someone who'll appreciate you."
"So..." he sighed with a laugh. "Did we just friend-zone each other?"
"Yeah, I think we did!" she chuckled.
"It's ok. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to date anyway. My breakup is still fresh, I'm living with my mom, and I feel like I'm starting all over again. So here I am, twenty-eight years old and feeling lost."
"Me too," Yvette groaned. "All of my friends are settling down, and I'm the only one out of my siblings who isn't married. I thought things would be different at this point in my life."
"Well, they are different. Life threw us a curveball, and it's hard thinking of it as a good thing, but it is. I mean, Lorena and I had become toxic for each other, and from what you've told me, you're better off without your ex-boyfriend. So, maybe if we take one step at a time, we'll dig ourselves out from this mini-life crisis?"
"I hope so because right now, it hurts." Yvette stroked her sternum as if her heartache was physical. Noticing this, Amos pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head.
"We'll get through this, and maybe one day we'll even laugh about how we stood outside a nightclub feeling sorry for ourselves."
"Can we fast forward to that day?" she laughed.
"I wish, but how about, for now, we go back inside and dance our asses off?"
Yvette drew her head back to gaze at Amos and grinned. "Let's wipe the floor with Carlos and Cass. They've been showing off all night, and I'm sick of it!"
"Yes! Let's do it." Amos took her hand, walking back to the entrance. "Is it terrible that I also really want my brother's pants to rip, so he never wears such grotesquely tight trousers ever again?"
"No. I've been hoping for the same," Yvette snorted.
As their laughter echoed into the night while walking hand in hand, Amos felt at peace for the first time in weeks.
Everything was going to be ok.