Chapter 5 – Jessica

 

 

By the time the Lyft pulls up to the bar Rosa’s chosen, I’m feeling better. The extra shot from the bottle of high end whisky that Jason left in our - my - place didn’t hurt. Usually I drink from that bottle if I’m sad. That’s why it’s almost empty.

But tonight, my drink was the equivalent of the bird I’d given my door earlier in the day. Screw you and screw your new playtoy, Jason. I’m going out tonight. With my best friend. To the bar. To -

“The LeGrande? Really?!”

It’s the fanciest bar in Manhattan and I highly doubt I’ll fit in.

“What?! I get free drinks here all the time. All you gotta do is look sideways at the right person and away you go!” Rosa tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

She’s wearing something that’s actually sheer - a gorgeous, silvery-white dress that shimmers when the streetlight glow hits it. Me? I’m in my simple black dress, with a slit up the side so high I feel like I need to constantly ensure that neither my ass or anything else is showing. In the moments when I can successfully manage to put that thought out of my mind, I’m feeling pretty sexy.

“Rosa, this place is jammed! Everybody’s grinding up on each other all the time.”

“Exactly! Sweetheart, were you even listening before? The whole point of this night is to get you back - ”

“ - in the saddle, a backdoor man, thunderstruck, some sugar poured on me? I get it.”

“First of all - ” Rosa’s attempt to look angry is only about 34% successful. “I know you’re just naming 80’s rock songs right now. And I have to admit I’m a little impressed. But seriously, just open yourself up to what the night has to offer! Take a deep breath and relax. I promise it’ll be okay. Also, I feel like I have to note that it’s okay for you to get back behind someone if you feel like it.”

“Rosa!”

“Why are you surprised? Lots of guys like it like that!”

With that, we go inside. The lights are bright, the music is loud, and… I’m happy. The slight tipsiness helps, but more than that, I think I’m finally ready to let myself go, at least a little bit. Every day since the breakup, part of me has felt wound so tight, even if it’s been due to different reasons. Some days it’s a lump in my throat, some days it’s an ache in my stomach… some days it’s Violet knocking on my office door. Tonight, I resolve to keep letting go instead of letting myself be wound up.

Rosa’s right. I’m allowed to be okay. Or at least, to try.

We drink. We dance. Rosa flirts with everyone, including me. Out on the floor, underneath the strobing multicolored lights, everything else is driven out of my brain.

Rosa swings her hips in time with mine, then leans close and whispers in my ear. “Him. Get it. No lines, no waiting.” She spins me around and plants her hands in my back, keeping me from getting away -

- and I find myself face to face with a slightly bemused guy who looks about my age, and exactly my type. Good old Rosa always knows how to pick them for me. He has sandy hair that’s a mix of both brown and blonde. He’s lean but muscled, a slight smile quirking his lips. And he even has a sense of rhythm, which I find out when he slides an arm around me and we start to dance.

His hands are just present enough on my body, walking that fine line between too shy and too aggressive with ease. He’s close, and I let him draw me closer. I feel sweat on my brow, but I see it on his too, so I’m less self-conscious.

Next to us, two men have shifted from dancing to dry-humping, and they’re not the only ones. The beats of the music are thunderous, and I loop my arms around this guy’s neck.

That familiar feeling of unease starts to creep on me—the same one that’s always there whenever I’ve even thought about anyone but Jason. I know I have every right to, since he’s certainly been doing more than thinking about someone other than me and we’ve been broken up for some time.

Usually, though, I can’t shake the feeling of guilt or of something being not quite right. This time I’m surprised at how easily I bat those thoughts away. Dancing with this guy feels good, and not much has recently.

I don’t want to stop. So, I don’t. I move forward instead. I dance. I touch. I forget about Jason. And that’s when I decide I want to do more than just forget. I want something of my own. Just for tonight.

I press myself against the mystery man, feeling his excitement (cliché, I know - but clichés are there for a reason, and so is his dick) and whisper in his ear.

“Your place or mine?”