Check, Please (Book #2)

Twenty-Six.

Melanie and I continued to chat as songs faded in and out over the speakers, though it soon became clear that she was feeling antsy. She shifted in her seat, staring at me expectantly whenever I turned to look at the mob of people dancing. I had a hunch that I knew what she waiting for me to ask but I couldn't bring myself to do it. By the tenth remix of a song we'd all heard a million times before, however, Melanie sighed, and I forced myself to meet her gaze.

"So, do you want to dance soon?" she asked, and I winced when I saw the hopeful expression in her eye. I reached across the table for my forgotten beer, lifting it to my lips as I shook my head once. Her face fell.

"I'm really bad at dancing," I admitted, sipping at the amber foam in my glass. "I have zero rhythm."

"You can't be worse than Parker," Melanie countered, and I followed her stare to see my best friend engaged in something that looked like a cross between a seizure and the macarena. Sophie stood laughing at him, though rather than copying his uncontrolled movements, she seemed content to merely bop up and down in time with the beat.

Most of the other couples on the dancefloor, on the other hand, were either grinding against each other or making out, and that's largely where my hesitation stemmed from. I'd never stopped worrying that the people watching me dance with a girl would think I was dry humping her, and Gemma hadn't done anything to assuage those fears either.

The first time I'd mentioned my insecurities about dancing to her, she'd shrugged me off and said, "Why do you care? You're at a party with a bunch of blackout drunk eighteen-year-olds; it's not like anyone's expecting you to break into a waltz." 

She was right, of course, and although I knew that most of the people at these events were too plastered to care about what I was doing, there was still a little voice in the back of my head that told me they were judging me. 

Judging me, and laughing at me behind my back. 

It wasn't as if I didn't want to dance with Melanie, because I did. What straight guy wouldn't? The problem was that no matter how much I may have wanted to, I couldn't do it, at least not without more alcohol in my system. I told Melanie that, too, though my words only seemed to make her more disappointed. 

"Just... Give me a while, alright?" I swished a sip of beer around my mouth and swallowed. "I need to get into the mindset."

"It's okay," Melanie replied, still looking a little sad. "We don't have to dance if it makes you that uncomfortable. I don't mind talking."

I hesitated. "Are you sure?"

She shrugged. "Whatever you want." 

I knew that she was just saying that to be nice,good  but... 

I pounded the rest of my beer and then quickly scooted out of the booth that we'd been sitting in, startling Melanie when I jumped to my feet. "Can I get you anything to drink?" I asked, already backing away. 

"A vodka tonic would be great," she replied, propping her chin on her hand. I nodded before turning around, though I could feel her gaze trained on me while I hurried past couples caught up in passionate embraces. 

I tried not to look at any of them but it was honestly hard to avoid; in the time that I'd spent talking to Melanie, the bar had seemingly turned into a sexually-charged powder keg. As far as I could tell, I was one of only three guys who'd brought a date but hadn't made a move on her yet. The others included Mattie, who naturally had zero romantic interest in his female companion, and Lucas, who seemed to be struggling to even talk to the girl he'd been set up with. 

"Scott!"

I looked up, a little embarrassed to meet Sophie's eye. The crooked smile on her face made me wonder if she could somehow sense what I'd been thinking about but I knew that was impossible. She waved for me to join her at the bar, and then motioned for the bartender to pour her another shot from the top-shelf bottle he held. Sophie handed the overflowing glass to me when I reached her side and then passed me a small plate of limes. I hadn't been a huge fan of tequila when I first started drinking, and I still wasn't; it had a tendency to make me do stupid things... Really stupid.