“Why do you make it sound so dirty?” I ask, my face pinching up in resentment as I apply the last touch of liner under my left eye. “It’s not like I’m a prostitute or a stripper, Kenz.” McKenzie is absentmindedly swinging her legs off the edge of my bed and texting God knows who as she judges me. I want to be furious, but honestly I’ve come to learn this is just the way she is – blunt and sassy. It’s actually a relief from the group of girls I used to hang out with in college.
I gently use my finger to wipe away a small smudge just below my brow and cringe at the sight of the small wrinkles appearing at the corners of my emerald green eyes. Crows feet, my mom always called them. Damn. How is it that I just suddenly became twenty-seven? In my mind I stopped aging at twenty-one, but my body refused to accept that logic. I turn to face McKenzie abruptly, “Are my wrinkles as noticeable as I think they are?”
She looks up from her phone and stifles a laugh, “Paisley, you do not have wrinkles. Besides, aging is beautiful. Unless you’re Heidi Montag, then you’re just kind of screwed.”
I roll my eyes and walk swiftly to my closet, pulling out the little black dress I reserved specifically for tonight. It has a lacy overlay and an open back with a deep v-neck in the front that accentuates all my assets that haven’t failed me yet. As I slip it over my head, McKenzie continues.
“All I’m saying is, you used to be this little angel back in college and then you graduate and just decide all of a sudden you’re chasing tags. I don’t think it makes you a whore, but I mean I would maybe say it makes you whore-ish,” she says matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders and turning her attention back to her phone.
“It’s not like that. I’m not running around sleeping with everyone I meet, Kenz. I just happened to learn near the end of my college career that I desire a man in uniform,” I shoot back, trying not to sound defensive. If anything, I hope she hears the exhaustion in my voice. We’ve discussed this who knows how many times over the past four years but it doesn’t seem to change the fact that it’s still one of her favorite topics. I could tell her the real reason I enjoyed being a tag chaser, but it wasn’t something I felt comfortable talking to her about – or anyone else, for that matter. Visions of my mom’s face flood my mind and I can still see the look in Dad’s eyes. The guilt.
I shake the memory.
“Besides,” I throw in with a laugh, “Technically I’m not even the true definition of a tag chaser. I’m not trying to marry these guys, I just like having fun. Consider it me thanking them for their service.”
McKenzie laughs too, chucking a pillow across the room at me, “Seriously, Paisley?!”
I shrug and wink at her in the mirror. She goes back to her phone, so for the moment I’m safe from any more questions. After one last look over in the mirror at the dress, I run my fingers through the loose curls in my amber colored hair and grab my clutch. “So now that you’re finished judging me, can we focus on the fact that we are going to have a blast tonight and pretend like we’re not too old for this kind of shit?”
McKenzie hops off the bed, head still engulfed in the apparently very amusing conversation occurring on her phone and lets out a deep sigh, “Ugh, fine. But I’m just saying it might do you some good to explore other options, since apparently none of the men you’ve caught so far have filled whatever void you have.” She finally puts her phone away in her purse and links her arm in mine. “And yes,” she adds, “We are going to have a blast. And who said we were too old for anything? You act like we’re 70. Calm down, Grandma.”
I let out a breath of relief and return her smile as we head out the door. It’s been a rough week but I’m feeling great tonight, and I can’t wait to see what’s waiting downtown.
McKenzie is applying one final coat of lip gloss in her compact mirror as we sit in the back of the cab. Even for a cab it smells pretty bad, like an old gym locker, so we roll the windows down and try desperately to control our hair.
I watch her as she covers her lips flawlessly, wondering how she got all the great looks. Her long, thick blonde hair is straightened and flowing down to the middle of her back and her legs look like they go on for miles in the red dress and pumps she’s paired tonight. I sigh, looking back at my own reflection on my phone screen for my last touch ups. I looked great when I was standing in the mirror by myself at home, but next to her I feel like the ugly step sister.
“You ready? I need a drink in my hand stat,” she says, fastening the lid back on her gloss as we pull up to where the streets are closed downtown. I shove my phone in my purse in defeat and hand the cab driver a twenty.
Downtown Orlando is buzzing as usual for a Thursday night. There are plenty of college kids running around, but there’s also plenty of post-grad twenty-somethings like me and McKenzie. Some of them are with their significant others, the rest just as lonely as me. Or at least I like to think they might be. I can’t be the only woman approaching thirty who’s not wifed up. Can I?
It’s hot and muggy and I wish I would have applied another layer of hair spray to keep my loose curls from turning into a frizzy hot mess but it’s too late now. As we walk I’m clinging to my clutch and watching my heels wobble beneath my clumsy ankles. “I hate this damn cobblestone,” I say, almost tripping and falling into what looks like a college frat boy.
McKenzie laughs, “You would think you might be used to it by now. You’ve lived here long enough.” She’s right, I’ve been in the Orlando area my entire life. You would think I would be able to walk downtown in heels by now.
I stick my tongue out at her and praise baby Jesus when we finally reach normal sidewalk. It’s easy for her to laugh, she’s got the posture and strut of a runway model. It’s still unbelievable to me that she hasn’t been scooped up yet, even though she and Derek are basically dating but don’t want to put a title on it. I’m not arguing, though. I need my wing woman.
“Okay but seriously, Paisley. Talk to me for real. Let’s pretend I don’t fall for your bullshit, for a minute,” McKenzie has stopped right outside the front of Diggs, our favorite downtown spot. She’s got her hands on my shoulders and she’s staring at me like I’m a child about to be put in time out. I try to laugh and shake her off, but her left brow keeps rising as she waits for me to respond and she crosses her arms with purpose. When I realize she’s serious I sigh in defeat.
“Honestly, Kenz, I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”
“Well, if it’s not that big of a deal then date different guys. Try something new. Do you want to be single forever?” She asks, as if it was just a normal everyday question. “How’s work going? Isn’t the weather lovely? Do you want to be single forever?”
I turn to her and try to explain, “Listen, I promise it’s not as serious as you’re making it. I’m not hurting emotionally or hiding from anything,” that she needs to know about, anyway. “And I’m not sleeping around or doing anything dangerous. I really don’t see a problem with me casually dating some of the best men in the country. They are all really, really nice.”
“Then why don’t you stay with any of them? Things are good for a few weeks and then you’re back to square one,” she throws back.
Now I’m getting frustrated. Why do we always have to talk about this? You would think she was my mom. “I’m fine. Now can we go inside? What happened to needing a drink?”
“I bet you couldn’t date a normal guy. I bet you’ve got some sort of fear of falling for a guy who’ll actually stick around,” she says, tossing her hair behind her back. As she starts for Diggs, I tug on her wrist and spin her around to look at me. Her little blue eyes are challenging me and I can’t help but feel offended.
“I could, too! If I wanted to, I could date a regular Joe. But the point is that I don’t want to. So, if you’re done now – ”
“Prove it,” she adds, the words like ice off her tongue.
Shit.
Suddenly I feel overwhelmed by my competitive nature. I knew this shit would catch up to me. Back in high school and college it was fine to be competitive, great even. It meant I went hard to win and to be the best, no matter what. I would even go as far as saying it has helped me get where I am in my career. But now, I feel the slight disadvantage of needing to win everything sneaking up.
“I will!” I shout over the music from Diggs spilling out onto the street. “From this point on, I won’t date another military man. Period. Now can we go – ”
“Shake on it,” she says, extending her perfectly manicured hand to mine. Her left eyebrow is raised in amusement, like she knows I won’t really accept the challenge.
I can feel uncertainty bubbling inside. Can I really do this? Ever since college, dating military men has been my only safe way of getting the emotion I craved without giving the trust I knew didn’t exist. I can feel the anxiety showing on my face and I’m biting my lip in concentration. McKenzie drops her hand.
“That’s what I thought, you can’t do it.” She turns once more to walk into Diggs, her head held high in triumph. I almost let her walk away, but I refuse to let her win. I can do this. I’m ready for a change and I don’t need anyone, especially not McKenzie, to tell me what I can and cannot do. I grab her hand and whip her back to face me again.
“No! I can do it. Like I said, it’s really not that big of a deal. In fact, I’m stoked to prove you wrong,” I lie, shaking her hand like I’m the cockiest bitch in the world.
McKenzie smiles, her eyebrow still raised at me. “Great. Now, what are the terms?”
I snort, “Terms? What terms?”
“Of the bet,” she states matter-of-factly.
I roll my eyes at her and try to lead her toward Diggs where she’ll hopefully drink too much to remember this conversation, but she blocks me from walking past her. “I’m serious! What are the terms? What do you want if you win?” she asks.
I sigh, frustrated that I’m not two shots in at this point. “Fine! If I win, I get those bad ass glittery pumps of yours,” I say, hoping this strikes a nerve.
“My Jimmy Choos?!” I think she might faint as she clutches her dress over where her heart is. I laugh in response and urge her to finish this craziness so we can drink.
“Yes, so what about you? What do you want if you win, which you won’t by the way,” I add in, crossing my arms and waiting for her response.
McKenzie steps close enough to me that I can hear her without her having to scream over the music. She’s stopped laughing and she leans in to look me in the eyes, “If I win, you have to tell me the real reason why you’re a tag chaser. Not the bullshit answer you always give me before you change the subject, but the real one.” She steps back from me and her eyes are softer now, the way they are when I need her to eat a gallon of Moose Tracks ice cream and watch The Notebook with me after a bad week. Wow, what a best friend I am.
I almost call the bet off, anything to avoid bringing up my past that really means nothing to me anymore. I don’t want to think about Dad or Mom or any of it, but I want to win this – to prove her wrong. I nod in agreement, and add in one final question, “Okay, but when do we judge who’s won? We obviously can’t wait out my entire life because I want to wear those pumps before my age exceeds my bust size.”
McKenzie laughs, tossing her blonde hair behind her again. “And I don’t want to have to put in my hearing aide to learn what I should already know about my best friend,” she chimes in. I feel shitty again seeing the truth in her eyes behind that statement. The only person who knows anything about the real reason behind my dating preferences is Tanner, my best guy friend from college. I think it always upset McKenzie that I was closer to Tanner than I was to her, at least until he left for grad school. I wonder if I should just make something up to tell her so she’ll feel more connected, but that would probably make me even worse of a person. God, I’m such an asshole sometimes.
“Okay, so how about a month?”
“A month!? That’s nothing!” McKenzie yells back, obviously not satisfied with my proposal.
“So what then?”
“A year. One full year of no tag chasing.”
I grit my teeth at her response. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, how am I going to stay away from the one type of guy I’ve found solitude in for the past four years? I sigh, so eager for a drink at this point that I would agree to sell my kidney, “Fine. One year. Now, Ms. I-need-a-drink-but-not-until-I-harrass-my-best-friend-about-stupid-shit, can we please go inside?”
McKenzie links arms with me and smiles like she’s won a wet t-shirt contest, “Yes we can. And I’ll buy your first shot to make up for the loss of time.”
“There’s my best friend!”
We both laugh, but inside I feel like banging my head into a wall. What did I just get myself into?
Diggs is a little bar on Church Street with loud music and decently priced drinks. Compared to all the other places downtown it’s practically free. McKenzie and I found it on the night of our graduation when we were stumbling from bar to bar to see how many wristbands we could get in one night. I remember we were both wearing our grad caps and yelling in the streets, “We’re the smartest bitches alive!” Needless to say, no one else was quite as amused as we were.
It’s been our favorite spot ever since. I’m not sure if it’s the drinks, the local art strewn all over, or the fact that most of the employees know our names but we’ve made it our regular spot. Thursday night is our favorite night to come because it’s ladies night which means free everything. We may have day jobs, but who can say no to free? Plus, they have the best burgers in town which makes for the perfect drunk food.
“Hey ladies,” Drew says as he slaps wristbands on us. “You both look stunning, as usual.” McKenzie bends to give him a kiss on the cheek before practically skipping inside, “Race you to the rum!” I shake my head and laugh with Drew before following her inside.
It’s definitely more crowded than usual, but at least there is room to breathe. I don’t see any stools open so I follow McKenzie’s lead to squeeze in at the bar for a drink. She’s leaning over trying to get Sean’s attention behind the bar and balancing on her tip toes when I see the scruffy looking guy beside us checking out her ass. I roll my eyes and try to ignore him, hoping Sean will notice her soon.
Finally, Sean gives McKenzie a nod and a smile before pouring us the usual starter – two shots of Captain. “Captain and Coke tonight, ladies?” he asks, adding a slice of lime to our shots.
“Like it’s even a question!” McKenzie laughs as she takes her shot and hands me mine. Sean starts in on making our drinks when she turns to me, “Alright, princess. Time to finally get the night started.” She lifts her shot to mine, “To you hopefully overcoming your crazy obsession with military men.”
“Here, here!” I laugh and we clink our glasses together before downing the shot. I can feel it burn in my chest as it goes down and Sean is right on cue with our drinks. As I sip from the glass I notice the guy next to McKenzie again, still eying her greedily and nudging his friend to look, too. Seriously?
I grab McKenzie’s arm and tug her away from Sean as she slides him a tip. I can see he’s enjoying her company, but I can’t stand to be near Mr. Creepster any longer, “Come on, Kenz. Let’s go dance.”
She’s draining her glass through her straw and her eyes light up as she nods, “Yes! Let’s go.” She chugs the rest of her drink and slams it down on the bar and I follow suit.
When we reach the dance floor after pushing through a few people I finally start to relax. Work has been hell all week and I’m on the verge of getting a whole new list of clients, so it’s not getting easier anytime soon. The last thing I want is any added stress or I’ll be baking up everything in my apartment tonight. Who cares that I made a bet to not date military men? I knew one day, eventually, I would have to let it go. I’m twenty-seven, I guess that day can be today. Besides, it would be nice to not date someone just because I know they aren’t permanent.
McKenzie is slowly winding her body with her eyes closed and her hands up when a waitress brings us two more drinks. We take them and cheers Sean across the room before chugging them down as well. We had a late start but getting caught up is no problem for us. As I dance, I soak in the smells of one of my favorite places – beer, smoke, and sweat. God, I’m such a class act.
I can feel the alcohol buzzing through me. The music is thumping loud and McKenzie and I are laughing as we dance when suddenly Mr. Creepster pops up behind her. He grabs her waist and pulls her into him, grinding his pelvis on her. Usually, if the guy was hot, she wouldn’t mind. But when she sees him she steps toward me, declining his advance.
“What’s wrong baby?” he slurs, trying for me this time. “Let’s dance.”
“No thank you,” I spit back as I pull away, not even bothering to hide my disgust. Is it so hard for guys to ask a girl to dance anymore? Or is throwing their penis on our asses the only way now?
Creepy guy’s eyes narrow and his dirty hair falls in his face, sticking to the sweat on his forehead, as I grab McKenzie’s arm and turn to leave. Suddenly, I’m ripped back around and he’s crushing me in his grip. I can smell the tequila reeking off his hot breath as I squirm. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he breathes and I almost vomit from the stench. “I said I want to dance, and we’re going to dance.”
I feel my chest tighten and I try violently to squirm free but his grip locks tighter. McKenzie is pulling on the sleeve of my dress and I vaguely hear her muffled screaming. Everything is slow, morphed. The smell is so strong, overpowering every other sense. I try to scream but my voice is frozen in my throat.
Suddenly I feel arms wrap around my stomach and rip me from Creepster’s grasp. As soon as both of my feet are back on the ground I’m immediately engulfed by McKenzie’s hug and she’s checking me for wounds.
“Are you alright?!” she shrieks, pulling my arms toward her and checking me like a toddler. I’m still shaken, but this is just ridiculous. I nod in half shock, half wonder and gently push her off of me. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” I mumble, but my interest is now completely locked on the arms that were just wrapped around me.
And damn, are they big, muscular, incredibly sexy arms.
There’s a space forming around us as the crowd backs away. The music is killed and I can vaguely see the bouncers making their way over, but I can’t pry my eyes away from the man holding Mr. Creepster up on his toes by his shirt. He’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s blazing against his incredibly tan body and his jeans are hanging around his waist and accenting what I can only imagine is the tightest ass under the sun. I can only see the back of him and I’m mesmerized. I must look like a fucking idiot, standing here with my mouth all open but I can’t move an inch. Luckily, no one is looking at me since he’s the center of the scene, anyway. I’m sure I’m not the only one with my jaw on the floor.
“I think she made it very clear that she didn’t want to dance,” Dreamboat says, still holding Creepster inches from his face and clenching onto his shirt. Creepster doesn’t look as intimidating, now. His eyes are wide and he looks about three feet tall as he stares up at Dreamboat. I wish I could get a glance at his face, but there’s no way I’m moving from McKenzie’s side – she’s got a death grip like no one I know and right now it’s latched onto my arm. His dark chocolate hair is shining in the bar light and once again I’m locked in on him, biting my lip like a fool. I haven’t even seen this guy’s face and I want to take him home.
What is wrong with me? I was just assaulted and all I can think about is Dreamboat whisking me away. Am I having post-traumatic stress?
“Y-yes, she did. I’m s-sorry, won’t happen again. Let’s just d-drop this now and have another drink, eh?” Creepster pleads, his eyes still wide. I’m actually quite amused at the sight, even though McKenzie’s grip is still locked tight on my arm and she’s looking at the scene like she’s witnessing a drive-by shooting.
Dreamboat clenches his free fist and I know he’s about to throw it into this guy’s jaw. That’ll get him thrown out, and that can’t happen.
“It’s okay! I’m okay,” I scream, breaking through the crowd and throwing myself between them as much as I can. “I’m fine, really it’s all good,” I try to sound convincing as I spout out randomness. My heart is pounding in my chest so hard I think I might fall over. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I definitely don’t want to lose sight of Dreamboat. Creepster looks over at me and smiles nervously.
“See? She’s cool, man. We’re all cool. My mistake.”
Dreamboat seems to hesitate, but he lets go of Creepster’s shirt and relaxes his shoulders a bit. As soon as he releases his grip, Drew and two other bouncers are escorting Creepster out of the bar. Dreamboat melts into the crowd as the music roars to life again. Everyone around us goes back to drinking like nothing happened at all, filling the silence with laughter and ice clinking in glasses.
I inhale a large breath as McKenzie grabs my shoulders and turns me to face her, my eyes still searching for Dreamboat, “Oh my gosh! You are crazy, you know that? You should have just let that guy have at that creep!” Her eyes are still franticly searching me for bruises.
I laugh and pull my arm away. “I’m completely fine, Kenz. Really. I promise,” I lie, still shaking a bit. “Let’s just go get a refill on these drinks. I’m completely sober after all that.”
McKenzie exhales in relief, “Okay, yeah. To the bar!” She pumps her fist into the air in declaration and I stifle a laugh.
“I’ll buy,” I hear a smooth, rich voice reply. I just about melt into a puddle right there on the dance floor but somehow manage to calmly turn around. Fierce, icy blue eyes gaze back at me, lighting my insides on fire.
“After all, I am the one who spilled your drink.”
Hello, Dreamboat.