I’m not taking the bait. Fashion trends come and go. My brother-in-law, Darren, may be a fool, but my father raised me smarter if not better. Gabriella can wear whatever she wants, and I will be proud to stand next to her.
But she’s never going to be in charge of my closet. My mother’s annual Christmas sweater is bad enough.
“I had a suspicion.” She replies with a smile.
She leads me to the door and after waiting for her to lock up I offer her my arm. Without her stilettos she stands just below my shoulder.
“We’re going toDylan’s.And just to forewarn you, I have never attempted line dancing in my life.”
“A southern man who has never line danced?” She asks with a smirk pulling one corner of her mouth up. “Scandalous.” She adds in a sly whisper.
“If dancing is a bust, they serve the best jalapeno poppers in the city.”
Gabriella
Squealing on the inside I watch as we navigate our way back into the dense heart of Atlanta. Dylan’s has a dark wood exterior at odds with the bright blue neon sign proclaiming its name high above the door. No line to get in and no bouncer at the door. Just like the bars back in Bad Axe.
A heat wave hits me as Oliver opens the door and waves me through to the inside. Country music blasting from the speakers and a crowd of people on the dance floor moving mostly in synchronization.
I weave through the tables parked near the walls and find one without any coats or purses. Slinging my puffer coat onto the chair I wait for Oliver to shrug his jacket off and then I reach out and snag the cowboy hat off his head. The simple and sleek black hat works well with my red boots.
He looks shocked that I snatched his hat, but then he smirks. It’s not like he has hat hair. If anything, it was criminal that he tried to cover it up. I was going to give his hat back honestly. But with the way he’s looking at me all smug, I’m never giving it back. Besides a black cowboy hat would look good with any of my jeans.
He still looks hot as sin in his faded jeans and his plain white T-shirt. His tan colored cowboy boots didn’t even match the hat.
I turn my back on Oliver and begin walking towards the dance floor. Suddenly a warm arm wraps around my shoulders caressing my arm.
“It looks better on you anyway.” Oliver says with a grin. “And now every guy in the place knows you’re spoken for.”
My eyes widen as he leans in to whisper in my ear, “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy is how the saying goes darlin’.”
My face is hot, and I know I’m blushing from my neck to the roots of my hair. Still I manage to take an exaggerated look from his boots to his face.
“Shame you’re not a cowboy then.” I quip, “Now dance with me.”
I snag his wrist and pull him towards the dance floor. The old wooden floor is scuffed and chipped from wear. He pulls me back for a moment and when he takes his phone out of his back pocket, I wrap my arm around his waist as I wait for him to take the photo. He texts me the shot. I’ll probably print and frame it later. Our first photo as a couple.
“I always wanted to learn how to line dance.” I tell him as we join the line closest to us.
“Me too.” He says with a laugh.
We watch the line in front of us to learn the moves. We are always a beat late and we often spin the wrong way, but I love watching Oliver try to dance. He has all the grace of a tumbling toddler. Halfway through the first song we’ve stumbled and bumped into each other a dozen times.
Five songs later and we’ve learned some of the more common steps. We might not match the line, but we have some rhythm at least.
“Thirsty?” Oliver asks me during a song change.
Pulling my T-shirt away from my sweaty skin I nod. We head over to the bar and order two waters. By the time Oliver pays I have half my bottle gone.
“How are you not dying?” I ask, shocked that he’s not dripping sweat like I am.
“I may be locked in an office for most of my day during the week, but on weekends I like volunteering to take care of yards owned by elderly people who can’t take care of the work themselves.”
I try not to be impressed. And fail.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask him while he’s taking a drink of his water.
He chokes and coughs as I stare at him.
