If you know what I mean
Following on from Part II.
The night began where it always did, except they tried to avoid eye contact as she walked through the door.
But old habits die hard, and her eyes flickered to the corner where he was on her way to the bar.
Her eyes may have been hidden by the darkness, but unfortunately for him, the light in the corner did nothing to hide his.
He stole his eyes away again when she turned back from the bar, but followed her steps out of the corner of his vision to the other side of the room.
She watched the girls that touched his arms, that heckled him while he played pool, clinked their glasses against his.
He kept an eye on the men around the tabe she was at, the ones that made her laugh, the ones that bought her drinks.
He didn't smile like he usually did; didn't meet her gaze with that cheeky grin across the bar.
The problem was, he didn't know why he was so annoyed.
It hadn't even been a week since he'd seen her.
What did it matter if she didn't text him?
She just feared why he might have been annoyed.
It had been almost a week since she'd seen him.
Why hadn't he texted her?
She finally tore her gaze away from him, and back to her friends laughing around the table they sat at.
The night grew older, the drinks grew stronger, she became more relaxed and less afraid.
He forgot he was mad and let himself smile, let himself loosen up a little, and threw a lingering glance to the other side of the room every once in a while.
The music became louder, they grew drunker, and became more confident.
His phone vibrated in his pocket during a rather difficult shot on the table, and he forced himself to try and concentrate and sink the ball, but his thoughts (which were already fuzzy from bourbon) ran away on him, and he missed.
He drew the phone out of his pocket and the words lit up his screen and brought the smirk back to his face.
'Wanna dance?'
And so they found themselves on the dancefloor in front of the band, bellowing Wagon Wheel, but still only just being able to be heard amidst the crowds of people.
During a break in the song she leaned towards him and yelled in his ear,
"I thought you were mad,"
and all he replied was, "You just ask me next time, I'll always tell you."
The night began where it always did, except they tried to avoid eye contact as she walked through the door.
But old habits die hard, and her eyes flickered to the corner where he was on her way to the bar.
Her eyes may have been hidden by the darkness, but unfortunately for him, the light in the corner did nothing to hide his.
He stole his eyes away again when she turned back from the bar, but followed her steps out of the corner of his vision to the other side of the room.
She watched the girls that touched his arms, that heckled him while he played pool, clinked their glasses against his.
He kept an eye on the men around the tabe she was at, the ones that made her laugh, the ones that bought her drinks.
He didn't smile like he usually did; didn't meet her gaze with that cheeky grin across the bar.
The problem was, he didn't know why he was so annoyed.
It hadn't even been a week since he'd seen her.
What did it matter if she didn't text him?
She just feared why he might have been annoyed.
It had been almost a week since she'd seen him.
Why hadn't he texted her?
She finally tore her gaze away from him, and back to her friends laughing around the table they sat at.
The night grew older, the drinks grew stronger, she became more relaxed and less afraid.
He forgot he was mad and let himself smile, let himself loosen up a little, and threw a lingering glance to the other side of the room every once in a while.
The music became louder, they grew drunker, and became more confident.
His phone vibrated in his pocket during a rather difficult shot on the table, and he forced himself to try and concentrate and sink the ball, but his thoughts (which were already fuzzy from bourbon) ran away on him, and he missed.
He drew the phone out of his pocket and the words lit up his screen and brought the smirk back to his face.
'Wanna dance?'
And so they found themselves on the dancefloor in front of the band, bellowing Wagon Wheel, but still only just being able to be heard amidst the crowds of people.
During a break in the song she leaned towards him and yelled in his ear,
"I thought you were mad,"
and all he replied was, "You just ask me next time, I'll always tell you."
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