Ыоуве Been Warned   ::   Patterson James

Either way, I don’t think he’s my type, whatever that is.

But the eye flirting is kind of fun. It’s not like I’m cheating.

I wait for him to do something – a smile, a nod, a wave, anything.

Nothing.

He just continues to stare in my direction. He barely even blinks. What’s his deal?

The dance floor goes dark. The band starts up with another song – something fast, disco-like – as a beam of light hits a mirror ball hanging from the ceiling. The room begins to spin.

Through the dizzying lights, I glance at the guy with the ponytail again. He’s still looking at me.

Ignore him.

I turn my back and move closer to Connie and Beth, forming a triangle. We get tighter and tighter as more people spill onto the dance floor. It’s really packed. I can feel the floorboards shaking beneath my feet.

Is he still staring?

Don’t look.

But I want to know. I am buzzed, after all.

I lean in, shouting over the music to get Connie and Beth to check for me. “At the bar… the one with the ponytail,” I say.

“Where?” asks Connie, her neck craning.

“I don’t see him anymore,” says Beth.

I turn and he’s gone. All that remains is an empty bar stool.

Okay. That’s fine.

“Let’s dance,” I say to the girls. “It’s my night.”



Chapter 27



MAYBE TWENTY SECONDS LATER, the guy with the ponytail is walking toward Beth, Connie, and me, slowly weaving his way through the traffic jam of people on the dance floor. He’s wearing a black suit and white shirt, open collar.

My instinct is to give him a wink – just a little one. But I don’t do it.

“Beth? Connie?” I say.

They can’t hear me. They’re so wrapped up in the music, they don’t even notice I’ve stopped dancing.

He’s getting closer, and maybe because of what’s happened lately, my skin is starting to crawl.

“Beth! Connie!” I say again.

But the music’s too loud.

A strobe light kicks in, hurting my eyes. It’s like a million flashbulbs going off, one after the other. I can’t see him anymore, and that makes it worse because I know he’s there. And getting closer.

There he is!

A dozen feet away.

What does he want?

He’s stopped in the middle of the dance floor. It seems as if everybody in the club is moving except for the two of us.

His blank stare is gone. In its place, a slight smile. I get the feeling he knows me, or at least knows who I am.