Tonight was the night everything would change. The sensation lingered like the overwhelming scents of floral perfume, strong cologne, cigarettes, and weed. Naomi's throat tingled with a cough in the hot basement of the historic bank-turned-club she longed to flee.
She focused on Greg and the dark stubble uncharacteristically lining his strong jaw. Her hands longed to caress it and feel the tantalizing tickle against her skin like she had earlier when his cheek had brushed hers as he whispered, "I'd be lost without you, Nomi."
Everything about that moment had screamed, "Close that gap." But in true Naomi fashion, she'd frozen like her tongue was stuck to a pole in the dead of winter. A curvy blonde had elbowed her away from the bar and Greg. But with another shot in her system, Naomi would override her romantic shyness and get her long-overdue dream man.
His stormy gray-green eyes scanned the crowd trapped between the limestone brick walls and low mirrored ceiling. None of it made this place seem any bigger, especially as yet another person knocked into her shoulder as they passed. Throngs of people gathered on the dance floor, pulsing to the top 40 music like dogs in heat.
Naomi fought the churning in her stomach to turn to her downturn-lipped friend and ask, "Do you want to dance?"
He released a single dry laugh as he steadied his swaying stance. "You hate dancing."
"More accurately, I hate dance floors. Dancing's okay." Or with Greg, it would be. She'd block out everyone else and focus on him.
Greg raised an eyebrow and leaned toward her, the scent of rum wafting off his breath. "At my brother's wedding, I asked you to dance, and you responded over my cold, dead, mutilated body."
She would have said that. But twenty-year-old Naomi had too much pride and naïve optimism to seize an opportunity. Five years later, she wouldn't let this one slip away. "None of your family is around to tease me."
He smiled, sending her heart racing. "No, but I am."
"You get a pass."
She hoped he'd have other ideas while dancing with her in this uncomfortable dress that refused to stay a decent length no matter how many times she tugged it down her thighs. Contrary to what her best friend, Shivanna, had speculated, it did not affect Greg, which both reassured and concerned her. While she wasn't comfortable sleeping with him so soon, she longed for romance to finally spark between them.
He stared at the dance floor and sighed. "I'm not in the mood."
He must have been thinking of his ex. At socials or pubs, Tara had jumped up and dragged Greg with her. Despite his protests, it had made him grin for most of the night. Naomi's shoulders slumped. Dancing with his reluctant, rhythmically challenged friend wouldn't compare to the woman he loved. No matter how much Naomi wished and had imagined that could be her one day.
What would help Greg get over his break-up? Clearly, the shots and drinks hadn't helped. Naomi wished they were still sixteen, so junk food and a Star Wars marathon would erase his pain. But he wasn't trying to forget a poor test mark or their classmates being judgemental jerks. His ex had ended their two-year relationship, and no matter how excited Naomi was about it, he didn't echo those sentiments.
"Going out is weird without her," he muttered and didn't make eye contact, as if he hadn't meant for Naomi to hear.
She squeezed his hand for a moment. "She's the one who made a mistake."
Greg's stormy eyes met hers. "You think so?"
Naomi's heart fluttered in her chest. The whites of his eyes were redder than usual, but he focused on her.
This is your pitch. Swing for the fences.
"You're amazing, Greg, and if she can't see that, screw her."
He smiled, but it flickered out seconds later. "You're obligated to tell me that as my friend."
"I mean it." She stared at him, her heartbeat slowing and drowning out the loud bassline with each second. "You're supportive, funny, a kickass outfielder with a hell of an arm, smart, ambitious, and I can't imagine a day without you in my life."
Each breath extending the silence between them weighed down Naomi's chest. Greg pressed his lips together while his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
He had to see how amazing it would be to date someone who knew and loved his quirks. How a piece of her heart had been devoted to him since they were fifteen. She would never leave him or hurt him like Tara did.
He blinked, breaking their stare. "I-I" He looked at the dance floor again, and his voice emerged as a slur, "I need a drink."
As he stumbled past the brick and wooden pillars toward the bar, a slow-motion explosion rocked her chest, sending fragments of her heart at the unsuspecting tables of people nursing drinks on their metal barstools. Ten years of build-up to this moment, and she was ditched. He didn't even have the decency to reject her.
It took all her willpower not to sprint away or crumble onto the sticky floor.
"That was cold," a deep, gravelly voice echoed from behind her.
Naomi didn't turn around, as she assumed the comment was for someone else. Instead, she leaned her elbows on the wobbly table and rested her forehead in her palms. But the voice grew closer, asking if she was okay. She looked up at a man in an out-of-place black Iron Maiden t-shirt. He was well past the six-foot mark and stockier than Greg but without the muscular definition. What was he doing at this club?
"I'm fine."
"What a coincidence. I wince like I got struck by a two-by-four full of nails when I'm fine too." His eyebrow piercing shot up as he half-smiled.
Naomi crossed her arms over her low-cut dress, yet had to fight a laugh. If she were walking downtown at night, she wouldn't want to be followed by this guy, but here he was a breath of fresh air from the overconfident, sleazy guys who made sexist comments when she walked without a male escort.
"Do you always eavesdrop on strangers' conversations?"
"Only when I hear dreams being crushed." He grinned. "I live for that."
"How kind of you."
"I'm looking for a partner in shattered dreams. I also got rejected tonight, but unlike your friend, mine bailed completely. At least you still have half a shot."
Greg stood at the bar talking to a woman, who wore a tight crop top, which wasn't reassuring. Was the idea of Naomi so repulsive that he bolted at the whiff of her feelings?
"Do you think so?
"He keeps glancing at us, and whatever you did earlier struck a nerve. Guy has some unresolved feelings."
Greg stopped talking to the blonde to meet Naomi's gaze. After she gave an awkward wave and smiled, he returned it and stared at her in a daze until the bartender served his drinks.
His words after she'd bought them a double round of shots earlier rang in her mind.
How many will it take to forget Tara?
The shots he took now showed he still hadn't found that number. She should have kept her mouth shut.
Naomi turned to the new guy. "For his ex."
The stranger sighed and ducked a few inches to reach Naomi's level. "I get that. The friend I've done nothing but support through her rocky relationship went home with that jerk instead of me, again. I don't know why I do it."
A shiver travelled down Naomi's spine. Did this man await compensation for his kind actions like a transaction? "I don't expect sex when I support my friends."
"Nor do I. I meant we're both interested in people who dismiss our value for partners who don't see theirs."
Greg and the blonde laughed together like his previous gloomy cloud had been an illusion or created by Naomi.
"If you want to vent, I'm all ears," he said.
"It won't get me to sleep with you."
He took a step back and spoke plainly, "That's not why I'm talking to you. You seemed uncomfortable, and I can relate to that."
He would not get off that easily, even if she believed him. "You told me you're hoping to sleep with your friend."
"Who I've been close to for years, not a woman I just met who's into someone else. How long have you and Preppy Boy been friends?"
While Naomi wasn't sure opening up to this man was a good idea, he seemed genuine, and it would distract her. "Since high school."
"What about you and..."
"Brinny. I met her a few years ago when I moved to the city."
"From where?"
"Kingston."
"Ontario?"
The man confirmed it with a nod, and Naomi's eyes widened. People from towns in Northwestern Ontario moved here since they shared a border, and Winnipeg was the closest big city, but relocating from Southern Ontario wasn't common with so many more attractive options nearby. This city had little to offer beyond a low cost of living, brutal winters, and being crowned both the Slurpee capital and often the murder capital of Canada.
"And you moved to Winnipeg... by choice?"
He chuckled and leaned against a pillar. "My brother's choice. I thought it was temporary."
"Regret it yet?"
"I was, but this city keeps surprising me." A smile accompanied his words.
The man's eyes widened, and he glanced at the back of the club before looking at Naomi again with a more relaxed composure.
"What?" Naomi asked.
"Nothing out of place at this place. You come here often?"
"I prefer pubs."
His gaze shifted again until she began to turn around. He put a hand on her arm. "Don't."
She shook it off and turned. As a sharp pinch travelled up her nose, her eyes watered, blurring the scene before her. Whatever shards remained of her heart cracked as Greg made out with the blonde further down the bar. It wasn't too soon for him. Naomi was too different from that woman or Tara for him to even be considered. She was never enough of the right thing for anyone, but she thought he was the exception because he'd always supported her.
There was no exception. She would grow old in her tiny house with her best friend while everyone else lived their amazing lives. Naomi sighed. She could do a lot worse for company than Shivanna.
"Would you like a drink?" Eyebrow Piercing Guy asked.
"No, I want half a dozen. But I can't go near him." She'd dissolve into mortifying tears.
He grinned. "You've shot up ten points in my book."
"Should I be creeped out you're so invested in my drinking habits?"
"Nah, I'm grateful for a drinking buddy. There's a bar near the pool tables." He extended his hand toward the opposite end of the building like he was holding a door open for her.
Naomi made the mistake of looking at Greg again, who entwined his body with blondie, his mouth on hers, his hands wandering her body. They looked like a couple who'd tear each other's clothes off the second they got into a cab or a dark corner.
Naomi had never seen Greg like this with his exes. He and Tara were a sweet couple founded on more than lust and sexual attraction. But he must have kept this part of him private. Her eyes prickled, and she fought the urge to vomit.
Instead, she said, "Let's go."