Once I caught my breath and sat up a little, I realized he wasn’t moving. “Oh shit,” I yelled, “I just killed hot motorcycle guy! I crushed him like a bug!”
His dark hair was covering his face, and I started pushing it aside with both hands, so I could perform CPR and try to bring him back to life. When I uncovered his eyes, I saw he was staring at me with a stunned expression, and I exclaimed, “You’re not dead!”
He sat up and grinned while I quickly scrambled off of him. “Not quite,” he said. “You just knocked the wind out of me.”
By now, my companions had gathered around us. Dare helped me up while Skye held out a hand to motorcycle guy and said, “Well hey there, Lucky. How’s it going?”
The guy—Lucky, apparently—took his hand, and as Skye hauled him to his feet, he said, “It’s going well. Who’s your gravity-prone friend?”
Before Skye could introduce us, I slapped a hand over my mouth and muttered, “I think I’m going to barf.”
Preston exclaimed, “Run for the restroom! It’s down there.” He looked more than a little alarmed as he pointed at a nearby hallway.
I sprinted for the toilets, but there was a huge line so I kept going. A door at the end of the hall was marked “Exit Only,” and I burst through it and found myself in an alley. I looked around frantically, then ducked around the side of a dumpster and threw up almost thirty dollars’ worth of bright blue alcohol.
As I took a few steps back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I muttered, “Ugh, that’s so gross.”
A voice behind me said, “Oh man, I think we should take you to a hospital. I’ve never seen blue vomit before, and that can’t be good.”
I pressed my eyes shut for a moment as I silently begged the universe, please don’t let that be hot motorcycle guy.
But of course, when I opened my eyes and turned around, there he was, in all his long-haired, sexy as hell, leather jacket-wearing glory. Awesome.
I blurted, “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Just remind me never to drink blue cocktails again.”
“That might be a good idea.”
“Are you okay? I landed on you like a velociraptor taking down a cheeseburger.” What was I even saying right now? This guy definitely flustered me.
He grinned at that. “Interesting mental picture, and I’m fine. I really thought I could catch you. At least I broke your fall, though.”
“Thanks for trying.”
As I looked around and tried to get my bearings, he said, “The door we went through locks automatically. We’ll have to go around the block to get back in.”
“Oh, no. I’m done.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and started to walk down the alley, and Lucky fell into step with me. “That was a full evening—getting drunk on two cocktails, failing spectacularly as a fake go-go boy, falling on you, of all people, then puking my guts out behind a dumpster. There’s no way to top that, so it’s best to just call it a night.”
“That makes it sound like you know me, but I’d definitely remember meeting you.”
“What?”
“Me, of all people. That’s what you just said. It implies we know each other.”
“Oh. No, I’ve just seen you around.” And by that, I meant I stared at him from afar, lusted after him, fantasized about him—I wasn’t going to tell him any of that, obviously, and I quickly directed my attention to writing a text in an attempt to cover my embarrassment.
I sent my friends a message telling them I wasn’t coming back and asking them to hold onto my flannel shirt until the next time I saw them, and Skye responded with: Sure, no problem. Is Lucky with you?
I replied: Yeah, he followed me outside when I puked in the alley, and we got locked out.
Skye’s next text said: He’s a nice guy, so let him help you if you’re still feeling sick. And let me know if you need anything, okay? I sent one last text promising I would.
We’d left the alley by that point, and I looked for a street sign as I pulled up a ride share app. “Ugh, I feel horrible,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “And it’s only nine-forty! My first night out in ages, and I didn’t even last an hour.” On top of that, the app told me it would take ninety minutes for a driver to get to me. Ugh.
“Instead of going home, why don’t you come and have some tea with me? It might help settle your stomach.”