I follow them all—except for Kaleb, because he disappeared once he got his beer—over to the foosball table, and Noah and I pair up against Jake. I ignore the eyes I feel on my back and take a sip of my beer before setting it down on the table with Noah’s and Jake’s.
“They played this on The Karate Kid, right?”
Jake’s eyes light up. “Very good.”
I almost laugh at his delighted expression. Seems there’s still hope for me yet.
We play a few games, Jake winning every time despite being by himself, and I have to pull my hair over my shoulder to get it off my back by the time we finish the third game, because I’m starting to sweat.
The music in here isn’t my style usually, but the crowd feeds off it, loud and happy, and I barely even notice the cold gusts of wind that rush through the front door every time someone arrives or leaves. Some old-timer walks through, dusting snow off his hat, but nothing disturbs the good time.
“I’m gonna grab another one,” Jake tells us after the last game, gesturing to his beer.
I pick up mine still sitting on the table, untouched, and look around the room as he walks off.
Some racers sit off to the back, and I recognize a few of the guys and girls from the group at my uncle’s house a couple times, and I spot a woman in a cheap little veil surrounded by others at the bar, all of them throwing back shots. Her tight, black T-shirt reads “Marissa’s Last Stand” in blingy jewels that sparkle in the dim light.
The song on the jukebox ends, and a few couples nestled on a small patch of floor who are dancing let go of each other and make their way back to their tables.
“Wanna play some pool?” Noah shouts over the noise.
I stare at the jukebox, bringing the bottle to my lips. “I want to play some music,” I tell him and flash him an apologetic smile as I hold out my hand for money. “Please?”
He rolls his eyes but reaches into his pocket and digs out some ones for me. Jake has my money. Noah knows I’m good for it.
He hands me a couple bills, and I snatch them up. “Thank you.”
Strolling off, I head for the music.
Jake stands at the bar, talking to some guy, and I still haven’t seen Kaleb since we got in here. I stop at the jukebox and look around for him. Kaleb has barely spared me a glance since he gave me the belt earlier tonight, but something about his present keeps gnawing at me, and I’m not sure why.
He made it. By hand. For me.
He knew my birthday was coming.
I love that each of them put some thought into what I might like, even though they really didn’t have to get me anything at all. It was nice opening up a gift I would buy for myself, instead of a lavish present that tries way too hard to put a price on impressing someone.
Kaleb put in hours of work, though. The thought of him in his workroom in the barn, quietly working, head hung over my belt, out there alone all that time… for me.
But then I shake my head.
I’m overanalyzing. He probably had that belt already made and laying around. He just grabbed it as he was leaving his room, and it probably does have some weirdo sexual undertone with all those notches, like Noah said.
I scroll the song selections, finally seeing something not country and put in a bill, dialing in the letter and number. “Do You Want to Touch Me There” by Joan Jett starts playing, and all of a sudden some cheers go off. I turn my head over my shoulder to see the bachelorette party holding up their arms and moving toward me, already dancing.
I smile, ready to move out of the way, but they start screaming the words, one of them taking my hand and pulling me in with them. I laugh, unsure of what to do.
I look around for my uncle or Noah to rescue me, but in a moment, I’m trapped and can’t see anyone. All of us crowd the small area, and I barely have room to move as everyone jumps, sways, and rocks out, the wooden floor underneath us taking a beating.
Others close their eyes, and after a few moments, I take a deep breath and do the same, letting the music and people feed me.
My head reels.
I’ve always been awkward with other women. Always. I’m either worried they’ll feel they have to hold my hand in social situations or aggravated because they do. I hate being an albatross around their necks or being treated like an ignorant little sister they need to take under their wing.
This isn’t like that, though. I just have to dance.
I sing along with the song, flip my hair, and move my body to the music, laughing with them and feeling the energy buzz on every inch of my skin. If I had to talk to these girls, it would be a challenge, but for now, I can enjoy the music.