Smiling on the Package

We were all laughing hysterically as we crossed the street, nearly getting run over by a cab. We yell at it rudely, earning us another honk. Every one of us is drunk and hanging off one another. The night is ours; young and unrefined. Finally we reach the other side of the road and we walk, no stumble, towards the nearest club Nitez. When we make it past the bouncers, both made of mounds of muscle and push through the double doors we’re greeted by pounding music overhead and great deal of good drunken cheer on the floor. The room is immersed in a bluish-purple light, it looks ultraviolet almost. I see the dance floor and it’s overflowing with people pressed close together flailing their arms wildly. I’m mesmerized by the scene, probably due to the booze but I terribly want to join in. But then Oliver comes up beside me, flopping his arm over my shoulders and smiles dumbly, his eyes glazed at half mast.

“Come on over to the bar Evie! They have the most fabulous martinis in all of bloody England!”

Reluctantly I let Oliver lead me over to the bar where the rest of my entourage is. We take a seat and he orders a martini, of course, and I an orange juice and vodka. Nothing like getting your daily dose of vitamin C with a buzz. I’m such a mess that I spill some of the drink on my new Chanel black mini skirt. I curse loudly while trying to wipe up the excess and Oliver takes a few seconds before he starts laughing and I throw the crumpled up napkin at his insanely spiky brown hair.

“Oh Evie you’re the embodiment of grace and elegance,” Lydia says airily on the other side of me while holding her glass high, toasting me. As she drained the glass she wavered precariously on the high barstool.

“Well you’re one to talk you slag,” I throw back. At first she’s shocked and then considers the accusation for a moment and it’s obvious I’m right. We laugh some more.

Lydia jumps off her seat and marches over to the dance floor where she boldly wraps an arm around the thick neck of one her many admirers and they start to dance, if you can even call the almost obscene body movements they’re making dancing. I watch her, those white blonde curls bouncing with her every move and take note on how brazenly she dressed in a barely there dress that hung loosely down her whole chest and stomach that barely made it to the bottom of her backside.

When I first became friends with her I usually lectured her about being so shameless but now I just accept it as part of her personality. When I look down at my own attire; the black mini skirt paired with my ‘hooker’ boots and a silver sequin tank top that had a generous v-neck itself, I dare to think that perhaps she’s rubbing off on me.

Sighing I turn back to Oliver, about to make a comment on Lydia’s ‘dancing’ but all I see his the back of his head, the teased out spikes pointing to my face. I discreetly lean back onto the bar and see he’s talking to a guy with stylishly layered black hair that was instantly turned punk with his fringe dyed an intense red. Besides that, he dressed quite trendily in a blazer and jeans. He and Oliver giggle about something I don’t hear and I see his finger gently smooth over Oliver’s hand. I seem to be the only one to notice Oliver cringe inwardly at this. He was always sensitive about his sexuality, publicly that is. He was touchy about being an openly gay man, always with one foot still stuck in the closet. Though he didn’t deny it he also didn’t come out and confirm it, not that he needed to.

I decide not to bother them and look to the last person who tagged along with us, Adrian. He was Lydia’s friend from work and it was by her invitation that he got to join us on our traditional three’s Saturday night outings making it an unfashionable foursome. I barely talked to him all night and when I did it was to counter some statement he made, more specifically provoking an argument so as to make sure that he’d never be invited on one of our Saturdays again on the grounds that we didn’t get along. I couldn’t see what was so appealing about him that Lydia would think that it would okay for her to break the sanctity of our weekend ritual. Usually at one of the bars or clubs we’d go to we’d just spontaneously meet up with total strangers and have a collectively good time. And if there were any jerks around we’d just tell them to piss off. But this was different, no matter how much I wanted to tell this Adrian character to piss off I knew I would just end up upsetting Lydia too.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks me. I look up at him. His crystalline blue eyes were radiating with an almost smug confidence and I can tell he knows that I don’t have a particular liking for him and that he doesn’t give a damn.

I wait a second or two eyeing him with contempt before replying. “Sure.” I figure I might as well milk this guy for all he’s worth.

He calls the bartender down and orders another orange juice and vodka. In spite I correct him. “No, actually I’ll have a martini.”

The burly bartender looked at me with an unnerving stare daring us to change our minds again. I get increasing uncomfortable staring back at him and I can almost feel Adrian’s arrogant smirk on me.

I quickly smile pretty back at the bartender and try to save face. “I’m told they’re the best martinis in all of bloody England.”

This seems to be the right answer and he turns his back to and starts on the drink. I sigh with relief inwardly and turn to Adrian who’s sipping his Jack Daniels trying to seem innocent in all this. I try not show that he’s bothering me so much but I never had much of a poker face. After stirring up my martini, and yes James Bond I’m sorry I like martini’s just fine stirred, the bartender places it in front of me and Adrian whips out his wallet and pays. I don’t bother to say any thanks and simply start drinking while turning back to the dance floor to check up on Lydia. She’s now standing off to the side talking with the same guy she was dancing with earlier. Her laugh is that shrill flirty one and I hear it despite the distance between us.

“So do you talk at all?”

I spin around and look at Adrian and flash him a venomous smile. There’s a pause between us and a quickly fill in the silence before it becomes awkward. “Why? Jack’s not keeping you enough company?”

And then he laughs. A sincere laugh, or so it seems. I can’t help but notice what a great smile he has. Teeth that are good enough to give Julia Roberts a run for her money. Then he runs a hand through his chestnut hair that has this messy yet chic look about it.

“No,” he finally says tapping his glass on the bar table. “Jack’s not quite doing it for me tonight.”

“Shame,” I reply briskly.

I search the club for something that can distract me from him and decide the dance floor is the best bet. I jump off my seat and head over not giving Adrian a second glance. As I slip between the tightly pressed together crowd I finally find Lydia and we start to dance. I ask her what happened to her friend and she tells me his girlfriend came and collected him.

“So how are you liking Adrian?” she asks me over the music.

I groan at the mention of him again. “Adrian who?” I play.

“Evie,” she whines drawing out the last e like a child. “Come on he’s a nice guy. What’s the matter with him?”

I’m really not in the mood to talk about this and I know Lydia knows this too but because she looks at me so expectant of an answer I suspect that she has expectations for me and Adrian. “Nothing, look lets just have some fun now, okay?”

Lydia decides to give in and we dance blithely. We throw our arms up in the air, our hair whipping about our faces as we move to the music. For laughs we lean onto unsuspecting men and openly flirt with them. Despite how tacky their pick up lines are we still snog some and blow off the others. It’s all in good drunken Saturday night fun, right?

As the night goes on we continue to dance blissfully unaware of the night growing older. The club lights are dimmed significantly as a band steps on stage. They look grungy and I’m sure Oliver’s friend will like them. Lydia tells me she needs a breather and leaves, but I watch her as she walks away and see she’s going to flirt with one of the guys she kissed earlier. I don’t let it bother me and wait on the dance floor until the band starts up. To my surprise they sound refreshingly original and everyone’s dancing again. It’s so hard to see in the muted light that I don’t notice a guy come up behind me.

“Hey,” he says in my ear.

I turn around and can just barely make out his silhouette. “Hi.”

“What are you doing out here dancing all alone?”

“My friends are too busy flirting. What about you?”

“I’m here with a few people. But they’re off doing their own thing too. I saw you out here so I figured I’d just introduce myself.”

I smile; this guy doesn’t seem as appallingly cheesy as the rest. We dance for a while longer and I let him get close to me. For some reason I feel safe and warm with him, a stranger. I slip into an almost hypnotic state with the music and lean closer to him. With my nose inches from his I can barely make out the colour of his eyes; a glittery crystalline blue. I put myself up on my toes and press my lips against his as the flashy finale of the band’s gig goes up around us. He responds and brings me in closer. I swim in sea of contentment where only he and I exist. The lights go wild and confetti falls from above. We finally let go of each other and the light’s bright enough so that I can clearly see him. My brain suddenly comes to a standstill and my face drops…Adrian. I’m so deep in the moment I’m not sure if I want to slap him or kiss him again.

He stares at me warmly and I look back blankly but I don’t push him away or protest. A few moments of this and I feel my cheeks become hot and I back away.

“Evie wait!” he yells but the music is so loud I can’t be sure.

He follows me outside where the crisp night air goes straight to my bones and goose bumps appear on my skin. I breathe it in deeply even though it aches in my lungs; the drama is a little much for me.

We stand in silence for a few moments on the sidewalk and I know he’s waiting for me to say something first. Jackass.

“Why did you do that?” I don’t sound remotely as emotionally wounded as I hoped.

“Well you weren’t giving me much of a chance when you could see me so I thought…” He says this as if it’s supposedly so obvious.

“And you thought I’d be okay with that?” Somehow don’t feel as angry at him as I think I should and it bothers me.

He sighs and gives an uneasy laugh. “Actually I prepared myself to be torn to shreds but I much prefer this.” He thinks that this light humor will make me laugh. It doesn’t. “Look stubborn people need bold impressions to change their minds-,”

“You’re calling me stubborn now?!” Wow, this guy really knows how to apologize to a lady.

“Honestly, yes.” I give him an incredulous look, but he defends his case. “Evie you didn’t even give me a chance in there! So forgive me if I wasn’t so cooperative!”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Him trying to legitimize all that he’s done just seems too pathetic to believe.

Then he looks across the street where promiscuous looking women are hanging about, then to his feet. “Look I never meant to hurt or offend anyone, okay. I just wanted to get to know you. I mean that is why Lydia brought me along but-,”

“WHAT!”

“Yeah…Lydia said she wanted me to meet one of her best friends on a sort of unofficial blind date thing but…obviously she didn’t tell you.”

“I can’t believe she did this to me,” I think out loud. “The nerve of that girl!”

“Well…I didn’t think I was that bad of a kisser.”

The words hang in the air and we look at each other. Smiles crack across our faces and we burst out laughing. I can’t help but think that he was one of the best I’d ever had. Not that I’d ever tell him.

Finally the laughter dies down. “So, what do we do now?” I ask.

“Well we could either go back inside with the others or…” He then grins mischievously and there’s a twinkle in his eye. “I think I know a few places we could take off to.”

I grin back at him and we make our way down the sidewalk. He throws his blazer over me. I relish the warmth but can’t help but roll my eyes at the utter cliché cheesiness of it all. I don’t know if I quite forgive him at this point but I’m sure there’s a few ways he can make it up. Funny how things work out like this isn’t it…sometimes they end up being the best things that accidentally happened to you.