Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

“Yo!” I barely heard through the blaring music.

“Jason, come to the door!” I yelled.

“What!” he screamed.

“Come to the door!”

He hung up and I just hoped he’d heard me correctly. Five minutes later, Jason walked out and signaled for the bouncer to let me in.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“January,” I seethed.

“Oh, hoo, hoo,” Jason laughed. “That is rich.”

“You’re gonna let her get away with that?” I asked, incredulous.

“Hell yeah I am! She burned you and she didn’t even have to be there. That girl, I swear,” he said, shaking his head.

When I finally glimpsed into the ballroom, I couldn't believe my eyes. The music pumped loudly, which wasn’t unusual, but what took my breath away was the swathes of billowy cloth that hung from the ceiling over our heads, giving the entire room an ethereal feel. I refused to give her credit for that. Probably someone else’s idea. Jason had abandoned me, distracted by an issue at the front again, leaving me to my own devices.

That little punk ass. I searched the floor for her. I had a few choice words to lay into her. I wanted to be cured of her poisonous claws and burning me like that was one way to do it, thanks to her delightful butt. My eyes scanned the room around me. I almost hoped she was on the dance floor. I imagined myself dragging her off by her hair to the edge. No, too Neanderthal. She wasn’t near the bar nor anywhere near the throngs of girls in the line for the restroom. I finally spotted her on stage, leaning over the DJ’s tables.

But spotting her held the opposite effect I wanted it to have on me. In fact, all vexation I previously felt for her dissipated into puddles at my feet. Damn it! She was as beautiful as I’d remembered. More so, in fact. She was bent over the tables, the hem of her short skirt riding slightly up her muscular thighs. Her long dark brown hair was down and cascaded over her shoulder, shielding her face. I hated how much I liked that she’d worn it that way. She’d curled it into waves and I thought back to how those strands felt sifting through my fingers.

She righted herself and laughed at something the DJ had said, making a slow jealous burn seep into my chest. My breath caught at the sight of her. Damn it! She turned and somehow found me at the edge of the dance floor. She narrowed her eyes at me, a cold stare seeping through the people around me hit me like an atom bomb and causing my stare match hers.

She walked with purpose off stage left, making a beeline straight for me. The heated anger emanating off this girl parted the waves of people dancing like the Red Sea. The cleared path in front of her gave me an excellent view of her swaying hips for which, I feel sad and pathetic to have to admit, I immediately imagined pinching between my thumbs and fingers.

“Hello, Mister Eriksson,” January said, overly polite. Any stranger walking by would mistake it for the saccharine it appeared to drip, but I knew it for the acid it really was.

“Miss MacLochlainn.”

She stood comfortably in front of me, her hands laid gently at her sides, one hip cocked. “I see you got in.”

“I did, thank you.”

Her eyes briefly flashed something wild. She was trying to bait me. I wasn’t falling for it and that was obviously pissing her off. That made me smile.

She eyed me strangely for a moment. “Huh. You do have teeth. Lost that bet.” She stood a bit taller at the insult. “Listen, if you need anything and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s why I’m here,” she said sarcastically and began to walk off. Don’t let her have the last word, that would be too mature.

“Oh, I believe I’ve had about all I could possibly want from you,” I barely said, but it was enough to catch her attention.

She stopped, straightened, her hair shifted off her shoulders as she whipped back around and came stomping up to me like a five-year-old. I tried to fight the grin that spread across my face but couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked, a foot from my face. I ignored the way my pulse raced at her proximity.

“I apologize,” I said, leaning in further. “I’ll speak more clearly then. You couldn’t give me anything you haven’t already. You’re quite the generous hostess, it seems.”

And the facade finally breaks. “You’ve got a lot of nerve! You know that?”

I fell to the back of my heels, wrapping my arms in front of me.

“You kissed me back!” she continued. “I was there! I know when someone kisses me back and you kissed me back, Thomas Eriksson!”

I avoided eye contact, glancing to my right a bit, and noticed a waitress getting ready to pass with a tray of drinks.

“Excuse me, miss?” I said, leaning around the statue that was January. The waitress offered me the tray and I took a cold Heineken. “Thank you.”