pink under the collar of my polo.
*****
After the group trip, where I would’ve appreciated the Zoey method—skipping ahead to see the good stuff, and then another long dinner—where Zoey had me order for her—we were hanging out in the hotel lobby trying to think of what to do with our remaining hours of freedom before the curfew Mr. Rhinehart imposed.
Bobby was trying to convince a group to go down the street to a dance club he was sure would let us in.
“You’ll come right?” Bobby asked, looking at me.
I didn’t really care, but didn’t want people to think I was lame after skipping their group outing last night. “Sure.” I looked over at Zoey, sitting alone in the window seat drawing in her sketch pad. “Who’s going?” I asked Bobby.
“Just me, you, Amanda and Stephanie. They’re upstairs getting dressed.” He grinned.
“Should we ask Zoey?” I nodded towards her.
“No. I want tonight to be fun. Plus, there’s two of them, two of us. It’s perfect.”
“I’m gonna ask her—I don’t just want to walk out past her without at least inviting her. She probably won’t even come.” I stood and headed towards her, hoping she would come.
“Big plans tonight?” she asked without looking up when I got closer.
“Come with me.” I sat down next to her, trying to see what she’d been drawing, but she moved the book away before I could see what it was.
“Bobby doesn’t want me there,” she said, closing the book and setting it aside. We looked over at him across the lobby. He scowled back at us.
“Forget Bobby, I want you there.”
“Why?” she challenged.
Man this girl didn’t take anything you told her without an argument.
“Because I don’t want to be the only one faking it around the happy people.” I smiled at her. Amanda and Stephanie bounded down the stairs, giggling in tube tops and short skirts, further illustrating my point.
“Oh, I won’t be faking anything.”
“And that’s what I like about you. Come on, Zoey.” I pulled her up by her hands. “Go put your book away.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “It’ll be fun.”
We crossed the lobby and headed back to the others. “ Zoey’s going to come with us,” I said.
“Not wearing that, she’s not,” Stephanie said, wrinkling her nose.
I thought Zoey looked fine in her jeans and T-shirt, but before either Zoey or I knew what was happening, the girls were carting her up the stairs by the elbows.
They emerged fifteen minutes later and I hardly recognized Zoey. She wore a black tank top and a tiny skirt and her long dark hair curled around her bare shoulders. She looked smokin ’ hot, way better than either Amanda or Stephanie, though they’d probably taken three times as long to get ready. I looked away and re-checked my wallet, counting my money again, even though I knew I had forty-six euros.
We walked about a mile and reached le Secret , and paid to get in. We stuck together in an awkward clump by the bar while we scoped things out. After shouting over the music to find out what the girls wanted, Bobby and I returned with drinks. There were two floors with separate music playing, the main floor was more of a lounge and the second floor had loud-thumping dance music with lights and lasers flashing from the ceiling. There were basically two types of people there, tourists like us and sleazy guys trying to pick up the tourists.
Amanda and Stephanie held hands and headed to the dance floor, trying to put on a show. Bobby gawked at them. He wouldn’t have had a chance with either of them back home, but that was the funny thing about this trip, you could forge new relationships and be someone different than who you were at home. Bobby joined the girls on the dance floor and left Zoey and I standing together, sipping our drinks.
It was too loud to talk, but I tried anyways. “Having fun?”
She nodded.
I tried again. “Do you like to dance?”
She shrugged.
It wasn’t a no . I
*****
After the group trip, where I would’ve appreciated the Zoey method—skipping ahead to see the good stuff, and then another long dinner—where Zoey had me order for her—we were hanging out in the hotel lobby trying to think of what to do with our remaining hours of freedom before the curfew Mr. Rhinehart imposed.
Bobby was trying to convince a group to go down the street to a dance club he was sure would let us in.
“You’ll come right?” Bobby asked, looking at me.
I didn’t really care, but didn’t want people to think I was lame after skipping their group outing last night. “Sure.” I looked over at Zoey, sitting alone in the window seat drawing in her sketch pad. “Who’s going?” I asked Bobby.
“Just me, you, Amanda and Stephanie. They’re upstairs getting dressed.” He grinned.
“Should we ask Zoey?” I nodded towards her.
“No. I want tonight to be fun. Plus, there’s two of them, two of us. It’s perfect.”
“I’m gonna ask her—I don’t just want to walk out past her without at least inviting her. She probably won’t even come.” I stood and headed towards her, hoping she would come.
“Big plans tonight?” she asked without looking up when I got closer.
“Come with me.” I sat down next to her, trying to see what she’d been drawing, but she moved the book away before I could see what it was.
“Bobby doesn’t want me there,” she said, closing the book and setting it aside. We looked over at him across the lobby. He scowled back at us.
“Forget Bobby, I want you there.”
“Why?” she challenged.
Man this girl didn’t take anything you told her without an argument.
“Because I don’t want to be the only one faking it around the happy people.” I smiled at her. Amanda and Stephanie bounded down the stairs, giggling in tube tops and short skirts, further illustrating my point.
“Oh, I won’t be faking anything.”
“And that’s what I like about you. Come on, Zoey.” I pulled her up by her hands. “Go put your book away.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “It’ll be fun.”
We crossed the lobby and headed back to the others. “ Zoey’s going to come with us,” I said.
“Not wearing that, she’s not,” Stephanie said, wrinkling her nose.
I thought Zoey looked fine in her jeans and T-shirt, but before either Zoey or I knew what was happening, the girls were carting her up the stairs by the elbows.
They emerged fifteen minutes later and I hardly recognized Zoey. She wore a black tank top and a tiny skirt and her long dark hair curled around her bare shoulders. She looked smokin ’ hot, way better than either Amanda or Stephanie, though they’d probably taken three times as long to get ready. I looked away and re-checked my wallet, counting my money again, even though I knew I had forty-six euros.
We walked about a mile and reached le Secret , and paid to get in. We stuck together in an awkward clump by the bar while we scoped things out. After shouting over the music to find out what the girls wanted, Bobby and I returned with drinks. There were two floors with separate music playing, the main floor was more of a lounge and the second floor had loud-thumping dance music with lights and lasers flashing from the ceiling. There were basically two types of people there, tourists like us and sleazy guys trying to pick up the tourists.
Amanda and Stephanie held hands and headed to the dance floor, trying to put on a show. Bobby gawked at them. He wouldn’t have had a chance with either of them back home, but that was the funny thing about this trip, you could forge new relationships and be someone different than who you were at home. Bobby joined the girls on the dance floor and left Zoey and I standing together, sipping our drinks.
It was too loud to talk, but I tried anyways. “Having fun?”
She nodded.
I tried again. “Do you like to dance?”
She shrugged.
It wasn’t a no . I
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