always made me feel small enough, but this guy towered over me, even in my 3-inch heels. I looked at him, a little dumbfounded at his presence. He had to be at least 6 feet 5 inches.
I went to say something, but he beat me to it. He lowered his head a little and whispered, “You alright there, Pumpkin?” I shook my head. My heart dropped a little at the all-too-familiar nickname, especially coming from a familiar-sounding voice. I knew that voice, but where from? Stupid alcohol , I couldn’t think clearly.
I shook out of it and began to explain what happened. Except all that came out was, “Pineapple.” He smiled a mischievous smile that warmed me in all the right places—and seemed familiar as well. Did I know him? Damn my drunk brain.
“I’m sorry, you alright there, Pineapple?”
Huh? Pineapple? Oh, oops. “No. No, I um . . . well . . . I slipped on . . . a . . . pineapple.”
His face twisted into a smile. Okay, I know that smile. Who is this guy? “Don’t you know pineapples are dangerous? You’ve got to watch out for those.”
I nodded my head, unsure of what to say to this gorgeous man who made me feel strange things. It was a little hard to make out all his features due to the dark bar and the flickering flames, but I knew that I was staring at a very handsome man. A man I couldn’t put my finger on, but that I seemed to know. My body seemed to react to him in familiar ways that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I had no idea how to do this. I hadn’t flirted in almost a decade. Before I could think about it any longer, he leaned down again, his warm breath caressing my ear and sending a tingle down my spine.
“So, Pineapple . . . ” He breathed out.
I cleared my throat, willing my drunk mind to sober up. “Um, Megan,” I blurted out. Smooth, Megan, real smooth.
He smiled again, and there went those tingles again. “Sawyer.” He spoke slowly, like the name meant something to me. He put out his hand and I shook it, unsure of what the protocol was.
“Sawyer,” I said. Why did that name sound familiar ? Why did this feel familiar? Sawyer. Stupid, drunk brain, think .
Sawyer bent down to speak again, and this time I welcomed the herd of butterflies that filled my stomach. “So, Megan, may I have this dance?” I looked up at him and then around the bar. Sarah hadn’t come this way yet. She was still in the bathroom, meaning I could still beat her back to the table. Maybe. Even if I was a couple of minutes after her, that should be fine.
One dance. I would dance one dance. Then I would go back the VIP lounge and say the bartender was clueless. That wouldn’t be a total lie, just a little white one. Our waitress was a little busy, but surely she would be faster at bringing us drinks than the bar. I nodded hesitantly, and Sawyer’s face twisted into that glorious smile again. The smile that I knew. I swear I did, but how? It was killing me. Sawyer gently grabbed my hand and then stood behind me so I could lead him onto the floor. I noticed that Sawyer was wearing a dark shirt with a big red and white logo on the back, with a matching small one on the front. I wasn’t sure what it said. I couldn’t quite see well enough, but I did think that he was dressed down in comparison to all the other guys who were wearing button-up shirts.
As I stopped and started to dance, the song Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon came on. I hadn’t heard it a lot, but I remember liking the song when I heard it on the radio on my cross-country trip. Sawyer looked down at me and smiled, and that smile was dangerous. He didn’t try and force himself on me like the other guys. Instead, he let me dance my one-foot distance as I faced him. He would slowly inch his way closer and would always stop for a second, almost asking my permission. To show him he had it, I would smile up at him. I swear I knew him. I immediately felt comfortable with him, and to be honest, I knew it was a little scary how comfortable.
I
I went to say something, but he beat me to it. He lowered his head a little and whispered, “You alright there, Pumpkin?” I shook my head. My heart dropped a little at the all-too-familiar nickname, especially coming from a familiar-sounding voice. I knew that voice, but where from? Stupid alcohol , I couldn’t think clearly.
I shook out of it and began to explain what happened. Except all that came out was, “Pineapple.” He smiled a mischievous smile that warmed me in all the right places—and seemed familiar as well. Did I know him? Damn my drunk brain.
“I’m sorry, you alright there, Pineapple?”
Huh? Pineapple? Oh, oops. “No. No, I um . . . well . . . I slipped on . . . a . . . pineapple.”
His face twisted into a smile. Okay, I know that smile. Who is this guy? “Don’t you know pineapples are dangerous? You’ve got to watch out for those.”
I nodded my head, unsure of what to say to this gorgeous man who made me feel strange things. It was a little hard to make out all his features due to the dark bar and the flickering flames, but I knew that I was staring at a very handsome man. A man I couldn’t put my finger on, but that I seemed to know. My body seemed to react to him in familiar ways that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I had no idea how to do this. I hadn’t flirted in almost a decade. Before I could think about it any longer, he leaned down again, his warm breath caressing my ear and sending a tingle down my spine.
“So, Pineapple . . . ” He breathed out.
I cleared my throat, willing my drunk mind to sober up. “Um, Megan,” I blurted out. Smooth, Megan, real smooth.
He smiled again, and there went those tingles again. “Sawyer.” He spoke slowly, like the name meant something to me. He put out his hand and I shook it, unsure of what the protocol was.
“Sawyer,” I said. Why did that name sound familiar ? Why did this feel familiar? Sawyer. Stupid, drunk brain, think .
Sawyer bent down to speak again, and this time I welcomed the herd of butterflies that filled my stomach. “So, Megan, may I have this dance?” I looked up at him and then around the bar. Sarah hadn’t come this way yet. She was still in the bathroom, meaning I could still beat her back to the table. Maybe. Even if I was a couple of minutes after her, that should be fine.
One dance. I would dance one dance. Then I would go back the VIP lounge and say the bartender was clueless. That wouldn’t be a total lie, just a little white one. Our waitress was a little busy, but surely she would be faster at bringing us drinks than the bar. I nodded hesitantly, and Sawyer’s face twisted into that glorious smile again. The smile that I knew. I swear I did, but how? It was killing me. Sawyer gently grabbed my hand and then stood behind me so I could lead him onto the floor. I noticed that Sawyer was wearing a dark shirt with a big red and white logo on the back, with a matching small one on the front. I wasn’t sure what it said. I couldn’t quite see well enough, but I did think that he was dressed down in comparison to all the other guys who were wearing button-up shirts.
As I stopped and started to dance, the song Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon came on. I hadn’t heard it a lot, but I remember liking the song when I heard it on the radio on my cross-country trip. Sawyer looked down at me and smiled, and that smile was dangerous. He didn’t try and force himself on me like the other guys. Instead, he let me dance my one-foot distance as I faced him. He would slowly inch his way closer and would always stop for a second, almost asking my permission. To show him he had it, I would smile up at him. I swear I knew him. I immediately felt comfortable with him, and to be honest, I knew it was a little scary how comfortable.
I
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