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We're inside again, same booth as last time or maybe the one behind it, I'm not sure. I order her another one of those girly drinks and it's setting in front of her when she comes back from a phone call she made in the bathroom. She pushes her lips together, smiles and breaks it into a wide grin. One of those pretty smiles is going to push me into oblivion, and I'll be in love and I'll never come back from it. Just realizing that thought makes me wonder if maybe I already am.
It's not long until we're to the point that we were last night, and then a little while longer and we're past that. I'm supposed to drive her home, but I don't want this to stop. We can split a cab home, and I'll foot the bill just like I'm doing with all these girly drinks, though I don't think she knows that yet.
We're starting to get goofy, making jokes about other costumes in the bar (she points to a giant baby and says, "ooh, the president!" and I point to a girl in a cosmopolitan outfit and suggest Michael's looking for his drink). Her eyes are glazed and her shoulders are shaking from laughing when we both spot the man dressed as a pig way across the room.
We both look at each other, excitedly coming up with our insults. We're dorks. She clamps her hand over my mouth and I'm laughing into it as she says, nearly stuttering as if it's the most clever thing she's ever said, "Your mom!"
When she says her words, mine come out muffled under her hand. The alcohol makes me say them, it's not totally my choice, and it also makes me feel proud to say it. Her eyes are unreadable, but I know she heard me say, "your fiance" as muffled as it was.
Her fingers graze my lips as she pulls her hands away and I feel like I made a colossal mistake. Now I've done it, I've really made this irreversible now, finally fucked things up past the point of no return. I won't be invited to the wedding, shit would I even go anyway? She'll never laugh with me again --
Her hand is curling in front of my chest as she looks on, and her lips look like they can't decide if they should smile or not.
"I... don't have one of those anymore," she says quietly. At least quietly for a bar.
I glance down at her hand. Shit. "What? Wh-Why are you saying that?"
She looks around in confusion and pulls her hands up to show me. Shit. What? "I don't... Because I don't. We aren't -- we aren't that anymore."
Why do we have to be drunk while we have this conversation? My mind can't keep up at all and the lights are too bright and all I notice is that there is one less noticeable glare in the room, lack of diamond and everything.
"When?" I say, a little out of breath.
"Last night. Last night," she says it twice with a nod. "Jim, do you know I almost kissed you?"
Why do we have to be so drunk right now?
"Yeah, it wasn't subtle at all Pam," I say, looking her right in the eye.
"Oh, yeah," she nods, biting her lip, looking away. She starts suddenly, her eyes meeting mine in a haste. "Oh god, this is embarrassing. You don't..."
I don't catch on. I'm so drunk. Dammit, why do potentially good things always happen while I'm drinking? Heavily?
"I don't what, Pam?" My hands shrug and she looks so adorably frustrated, her lips scrunched up and forehead wrinkled.
She heaves a big sigh and -- okay, she's too cute, it's just not even a question anymore -- slaps her palm on the table next to her drink. "Jim, do you like me? I mean like, like... Like -- ugh, oh my god--"
Oh.
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali
© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali