Just a Number

by A. D. Ryan

  Babe? I really did try to get out of

  here earlier. I know how important

  tonight is to you. Please don’t be

  upset with me.

  I know how important Owen’s job is to him, so I decide not to hold this against him. We have all the time in the world for him to meet my friends and be a part of my life in this way. Telling myself this helps as I tap out a quick message.

  I know. I’m not mad. Will you keep

  trying? We’ll be here a while.

  His response is quick, and it’s just what I need to hear.

  Absolutely. I’ll keep you posted,

  all right? I love you.

  I tell Owen I love him too before tucking my phone into the pocket on the inside of my leather boots.

  “Better?” Justin asks just as the bartender arrives.

  Smiling, I nod. “You bet. He’s going to keep trying. He’s busy, and I understand that, so I’m not going to dwell on it. If he shows, great. If not, that’s okay too. We can always hang out another time.”

  “What can I get you guys?” the bartender asks as I lean on the bar counter.

  Justin flashes a toothy grin at the attractive male bartender. “Blow jobs,” he says, voice steady. “Five of them.”

  Without missing a beat, the bartender lines up five shot glasses and starts pouring the alcohol before he tops them with whipped cream. I help Justin carry the shooters back to our table where the four of us down them before hitting the dance floor.

  As the time passes, songs change seamlessly. We drink, we laugh, we get lost in the celebration. I manage to forget about my disappointment that Owen hasn’t shown up, and I have a blast. It’s been so long since the five of us had partied together, and I’d forgotten just how much fun we all have. Several guys come over and offer to buy me drinks. I kindly refuse, explaining that I’m in a relationship. Some are more persistent than others, but I stand my ground.

  Liz hooks her arm through mine, leaning against me as if to steady me. Thanks to my own rising blood alcohol levels, I stumble slightly under the unexpected shift in her weight. I’ve probably surpassed my limit, but my common sense is weighed down by all the alcohol I’ve consumed, and I tell myself I’m not even drunk.

  “I have to peeeeee,” Liz playfully whines in my ear.

  I laugh and shake my head. The action causes me to momentarily see double, but eventually Justin and Caleb come into focus. “We’re heading to the ladies’,” I inform them. “We’ll grab some more drinks on our way back.”

  It takes Liz and me a few minutes extra to wade through the sea of bodies. Not only do our limbs move like we’re trudging through molasses, but also, no one seems to give two shits that we’re trying to break free of the crowd. We finally arrive, only to find a line-up leading to the stalls. On the other side of the bathroom is a uniformed line of women our age and older, leaning over the countertop and fixing their hair, makeup, and cleavage. There’s chatter between them all, but my hearing has been compromised by the loud music, so I’m not really sure what any of them are saying.

  I lean against the wall as I wait with Liz for a bathroom stall. The bass from the music vibrates through the floor and up the wall until I can feel it in my bones. It’s soothing and somewhat hypnotic. I close my eyes for just a second, but a second is all it takes for me to see Owen and start to miss him all over again.

  It’s irrational, but I start to wonder if he even cares enough to make the effort to come out tonight. I check my watch and see it’s almost midnight. Three hours have gone by since the last text. Clearly he isn’t coming.

  A stall opens, so I head into it and do my thing. Liz is at a sink when I emerge, and she looks up at me through the mirror. “You okay, Amy?” she asks, her voice sounding a little slurred. She’s so drunk. Way more than me. Maybe she’s had way more to drink than me.

  I turn on the water and start to wash my hands, looking at my own reflection. My hair isn’t nearly as perfect as it was when I left Liz’s earlier, and my lipstick is almost completely gone. I look a little less like a sexy rockstar and more like a girl who’s been partying the entire night. My eyes are a little bloodshot, and my vision is slightly blurred.

  Okay, so maybe I’m a little more drunk than I initially thought.

  “I’m great,” I tell her, smiling at her as she reapplies her lip gloss.

  “You’re bummed he’s not here, aren’t you?” I look down at my hands as I wash them. “You could call him,” she suggests.

  I shake the excess water from my hands before drying them. “Nah. It’s almost midnight. If he’s not still at the office, he’s probably at home in bed. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Forcing a smile to my face, I turn back to her. “Come on, let’s go grab another drink.”

  Liz and I head to the bar to grab a beer. While there, we get roped into a round of shots with some college guys. Not ones to refuse a free drink, Liz and I comply before going back to our table. Justin and Caleb are sitting side by side, holding hands and canoodling, and Liz takes a seat next to Matt, who leans in toward her. He’s had as much to drink as the rest of us, and I can see in his eyes that he’s hoping to go home with Liz. I doubt she’ll refuse him; the two of them have been off again-on again since high school. I love her, but they both need to just get over themselves and figure their shit out.

  Watching everyone get couple-y around me makes me slip into a drunken depression, so I sip my beer and look around the club. This doesn’t help. I miss Owen. Maybe I could slip out of here now and surprise him at his pl—

  “Dance with me,” Justin says, grabbing my hand and pulling me from my stool. My mood has shifted substantially; just moments earlier, I was happy and having a good time, and now I’m sad again. The alcohol only amplifies these feelings.

  I shake my head, not really in the mood. “Actually, I think I might head out.”

  “I don’t think so!” Liz shouts, having overheard me. She pulls away from a dejected-looking Matt and runs around the table, taking my other hand. She and Justin both pull me toward the dance floor as Lady Gaga’s Do What U Want starts playing. At first, they dance around me, soon joined by Matt and Caleb. Liz pulls me toward her and places her hands on my hips, guiding me to move with her as she inches closer and closer. Her lips curl up into a sly smile, and I can’t help but mirror her expression. Her mission was to cheer me up, and it worked.

  Soon we’re moving to the beat of the music, and my mood improves again. Liz and I are pressed up against each other, laughing and singing along to the song when a pair of hands ensnares my hips, and I feel a body behind me. I turn my head to see Justin, and I indulge him with a dance.

  I keep my back to him for a bit as his hands remain on my hips, and we dance to the upbeat music. Justin turns me around unexpectedly, and I laugh when he grabs my waist to stop and steady me. I rest my arms on his shoulders as we dance closely, giving each other goofy looks while we do so to keep things interesting. I’m glad he got me out here. It pulls me out of my funk. Sure, having Owen here would be great, but we should be able to be apart without feeling like something was missing. We’ve lived our lives this long without each other, so what’s one more night? Normal couples take time apart all the time with no ill effects.

  Over Justin’s shoulder, I spot Matt and Liz dancing—or more accurately, grinding. They are pressed so close together that if they were naked, they’d probably be having sex right there in the middle of the dance floor. His hands cup her ass as he thrusts his hips toward her, and they kiss each other so frantically, I worry about their lack of oxygen.

  There is no doubt in my mind about where those two will end up tonight.

  I glance in the other direction at Caleb as he heads back to our table. He smiles as he sips his drink, and I suddenly feel bad that he is being forced to give up his boyfriend so I can be cheered up.

  “Why don’t you go ask Caleb to dance?” I suggest, tilting my head up so I can speak loudly enough in Justin’s ear that he
hears me.

  Justin turns me around again until my back is pressed against his chest, and his hands move down to the outsides of my hips. He crosses an arm over my body, taking my left hand in his right, and spins me outward before pulling me close again. I’m so off balance, I crash into him and laugh. “Because I’m dancing with you,” he replies.

  “I’m fine, really,” I assure him. “I don’t want him to get jealous.”

  “Jealous?” Justin laughs. “Of a girl?” He pauses. “No offense, of course.”

  “That’s not what I meant, doofus. I just…don’t want him to feel left out.”

  There’s a brief pause, and I look over my shoulder at Caleb. He’s looking our direction so intensely that I know he’s locked eyes with Justin as he dances with me. “Oh, he’ll feel included, don’t you worr—”

  Before Justin can finish his crude promise, his body jerks away from mine so suddenly, it throws me off balance. Gasps and screams alert me to something happening, and I turn toward Justin, worried that he’s fallen or passed out or…

  Is being beaten to hell by some tall guy.

  “Hey!” I scream, running forward in an attempt to break it up. Justin is on the ground as the man looms over him. His nose is bleeding, and he’s starting to push himself to his feet. I hear Caleb right behind me, and I grab the offender by the arm and yank roughly. He turns around, and I gasp when I’m met with angry blue eyes.

  “Owen?”

  31. Jealous

  It pissed me off that I had to stay at the office so long. Sometimes it was a major pain in the ass being the only one I could trust to get the job done when some idiot who clearly wasn’t even worth his pay grade fucked shit up.

  Of course, I would be lying if I don’t also admit to being a little relieved.

  It wasn’t a lie when I told her I was looking forward to meeting up with her at the nightclub she and her friends were going to, but I was anxious about being in a social setting with her peers. I don’t doubt our relationship, but I also can’t deny my nerves. We’ve gone public, but I still worry about what her friends might say. It’s ridiculous, there’s no doubt about that, but it doesn’t make it any less real. What if her friends didn’t understand and she was ostracized for it?

  Not that the decision would be in my hands, anyway; as the minutes ticked by, my chances of meeting up with her evaporated. I was stuck in a twelve-storey hellhole, waiting for the president of the rival company we were in the process of buying out to fax over the final paperwork. Why it took as long as it did, I had no idea.

  After texting her again, Amelia assured me she wasn’t upset, but I could tell she wasn’t thrilled with the idea, either. She was really excited about seeing how I fit into that part of her life. While I’m more than a little nervous about the outcome, I decide that I am willing to make a small sacrifice if it’s going to make her happy.

  I text her periodically throughout the night, but hear nothing in return. I don’t hold this against her, because she’s probably just having a good time and isn’t checking her phone every five minutes like I am…

  Okay, so maybe I check it every minute or two.

  I finally hear back at eleven that they’ll get to the paperwork first thing in the morning. While I know I should be happy I can finally leave this godforsaken building after fifteen hours in it, I’m actually even more pissed off than before, having missed out on an entire evening with Amelia for nothing.

  Vowing to make the best of a shitty situation, I get in my car and head to the club, calling again to let her know I’m on my way. She doesn’t answer. There’s a slight drizzle as I navigate the streets, and I can slowly feel my anger ebb as my anticipation sets in. I might not get to mingle with her friends for very long before they’re all ready to leave, but a little is better than nothing at all…unless they’ve all already left. I suppose that’s always a possibility, too.

  Parking is damn near impossible when I arrive forty minutes later, but I eventually find a spot a couple blocks away and decide to walk. I pay the cover charge and head inside to see if I can find Amelia. If I don’t see her, I’ll have to try calling her again to make sure she made it home all right. I’d hate to worry.

  Wall-to-wall bodies greet me as I cross the threshold. It smells of stale booze, and the music is way too loud. How these kids can hear anything is beyond my comprehension.

  God, when did I get so old? I’m sure things haven’t changed that much since I was this age.

  I make it through the first wave of hormonal young adults, and I’m just about to walk toward the bar when the crowd clears a path leading to the dance floor. I glance at first, and when I don’t see her I turn back in my original direction. Then, out of my periphery, I see a flash, feel that pull she has over me, and I look back again.

  There, in the middle of the dance floor, is Amelia. Her eyes are closed, lips moving as she sways to the loud and fast music playing. She looks so beautiful—although a little drunk—and when I see another man pressed up against her back, his hands on her hips, I see red. I keep my eyes on them as he takes her hand and spins her before pulling her against him, and she laughs. I push through the crowd that suddenly gets in my way. My heart beats louder than the music until my blood pulsing through my veins is all I can hear.

  I reach them in less than a minute, though it feels like longer, and I yank the guy off Amelia. She stumbles, but I’m not fully focused on her as I pull my fist back and slam it into this asshole’s face. His nose gives under the force of my punch, and he falls to the ground. Bodies circle around us, gasps and cries of shock breaking through the pounding of my own heart. Somewhere in the distance, I hear a voice cry, “Hey!” but my focus is on the man on the dance floor who’s starting to stand.

  I’m about to demand he stay down if he knows what’s good for him when someone grabs me and tries to turn me. Ready to tell whomever it is to mind their own goddamn business, I whip around, only to be met with alarm and confusion.

  “Owen?” Amelia says, almost as though she’s unsure what she’s seeing. She blinks, clenching her eyes shut for a moment. When she opens them, I’m still here, and she’s still confused. She looks completely smashed, swaying from leg to leg to keep her balance. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  I open my mouth to demand an explanation when she fully realizes what just happened. “What the hell are you doing?” she cries, pushing past me and kneeling next to the guy who was practically fucking her on the dance floor. She cradles his head in her lap and inspects his nose beneath his bloodied hand while I just stand there, flabbergasted. Is this really happening?

  “What the hell am I doing? Care to explain what it is the two of you were up to a minute ago?”

  Another man rushes toward Amelia and this boy. Amelia stands the minute he takes over and approaches me. “Dancing. You know, what us crazy kids do at these clubs.”

  The crowd is forced to break up around us again as several burly guys approach. Bouncers. Their hulking size and angry expressions tell me that much.

  “What seems to be the problem here?” one of them asks, looking from me to the man on the ground, then toward Amelia. “Miss, maybe you need to take your father outside and get him home.”

  “He’s not my father!” she shouts at the same time I yell, “I’m not her father!”

  Yes, I can understand the misconception, but it’s still maddening to hear it over and over again.

  “Well, regardless of who he is,” the bouncer continues, “he needs to leave. Either of his own volition, or by force.”

  Amelia looks up at me, and her eyes narrow angrily before she storms past me. The line she makes toward the front door is anything but straight, and I can feel the waves of anger rolling off of her as I try to catch up to her.

  “Amelia! Amelia, wait,” I call after her, but she doesn’t stop. Once we’re outside, I reach for her and grab her arm. “Amelia, listen to me—”

  She whips around so fast, I fear she might stumble given
her drunken state. “No, you listen.” She thrusts a finger in my direction. “I have never been so humiliated in all my life…which, granted, isn’t all that long, but—”

  “You’re humiliated?” I demand, my own anger and jealousy hitting an all-time high. “What exactly were you doing in there?”

  Her mouth hangs open mid-sentence, and her eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “What was I doing? I was fucking dancing.”

  “Is that what you call that? You might as well have been fucking him right there in the middle of the club.”

  Amelia’s mouth snaps shut and she starts shaking her head as she takes a few unsteady steps back. “How can you even say that to me? Are you really that insecure in our relationship that you would think I would screw around on you?”

  “His hands were all over you!”

  She’s quiet for a second, possibly trying to gauge something. “Did you even look at him before you attacked?” she inquires, her tone leveling out as she crosses her arms. I stand there, unsure why this even matters given the way his body was pressed against hers. “The man you punched was Justin. My friend from high school.”

  I fail to see where this is going or what point she’s trying to make.

  “He’s gay. So congratu-fucking-lations. You punched a guy who was absolutely no threat to you.” With that, she turns on her heel and starts to walk away from me.

  I have no idea where she’s heading, but I follow her. Her words swirl around in my head as I try to reconcile it all. I’ve taken a few steps before I remember hearing her talking about Justin and how he came out to his parents in junior year.

  I’m such an asshole.

  “Amelia, please wait,” I plead, my jealousy disappearing completely and my guilt settling like lead in my stomach, displacing but not eliminating the waves of anger that still flow through me. She continues to walk away, ignoring me as I catch up. The rain picks up until it’s pouring, but Amelia crosses her arms in front of her and trudges along. I grab her arm and turn her to me. She’s still angry, but I can’t risk her getting sick. “Let me give you a ride home, at least. Maybe we can talk a little more and I can explain myself.”