“Leila,” I answer. “Leila Tyler.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Dane Paulson. You know, I used to know a woman named Leila. She was into some pretty weird shit.”
I smack him on the arm and say, “I bet she was not.”
“No,” he says, chuckling. “She totally was. She used to have this weird ass fantasy about being picked up in a bar by her significant other.”
“I think that sounds very romantic,” I say.
“Yeah, if you’re weird,” Dane answers.
“You’re pushing it,” I warn, but my smile breaks through. “What are you drinking?”
“I don’t know,” Dane answers. “To be honest, I’m not very thirsty right now.”
“Oh? I would imagine a guy like you would be going insane over an open bar.”
“Not really,” he says. “I find people who drink to be rather boring. You know they only drink to put on the illusion that they’re interesting.”
“Oh, ha ha,” I mock.
“That’s not why I came over here, anyway.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “Why’d you come over here, then?”
“Because I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, and I know this may sound a little forward, but would you like to find a closet somewhere and fuck like bunnies?”
“A little forward?” I snort. “Does that line ever work?”
“At least once,” Dane answers, “I’m hoping.”
I down my drink.
“You know what?” I ask, “why not. Maybe I can teach you a few things. You come off a little inexperienced with women.”
“I am,” Dane says, and takes my hand.
I walk in front of him for fairly obvious reasons, but we’re delayed a minute when the bride and groom rush over, arms outstretched.
“Help me,” Dane whispers. “Wriggles,” he says, turning just enough to hug Wrigley with his upper body while I generously ease my butt against his front while I hug Mike.
“Dane!” Wrigley squeals. “I’m married!”
“I know! Congratulations! You two are going to have such a wonderful life together.”
“Thank you,” she says, and leans into his ear. “Real smooth with the positioning there, chief. I’m sure nobody’s figured it out.”
She gives him a kiss on the cheek and a moment later, she’s putting her arms around me, ever so gently, but ever so effectively moving me just far enough away from Dane to expose his rather embarrassing situation.
With gritted teeth and a smile, he casually rests his hands over the offending bulge in his pants and says, “Thanks, Wrigley. I’m so glad you guys came over.”
“Hey Dane, thanks for standing with me today,” Mike says.
“It was an honor,” Dane answers.
Fortunately for Dane, Mike is happy enough with a handshake.
“Well,” I say, “I’ve got to head out to the, uh—”