“Life is short. Break the rules. Forgive quickly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably, and never regret anything that makes you smile.”

M.T.  

Prologue

FINN

Baseball, as I’m sure you’re aware, is generally considered a singularly American tradition. However, for us Brits and the Irish alike, we’ve been playing games with balls and sticks and running ‘round bases for centuries. In fact, if you want to get technical, even the name “base-ball” was first coined in an English poem from the mid 1700s.

At any rate, it wasn’t like I hated the game, or even hated America, which, at that point in our fledgling relationship had treated me quite well. I just–didn’t want to be there, really. Crowds weren’t exactly my thing, although if you take into account that I was running one of the more successful new nightclubs in Manhattan, I admit it seems a bit backwards.

I’d gone to Yankee Stadium with my friend David, who literally yanked me out of my office at the club and assured me a good time. I don’t know how to tell you what happened when he told me where we were going. I just knew I had to go with him.

I guess I should back up a bit.

Three weeks earlier I’d been at my apartment, asleep, when an entire dream sequence blew through my mind. You know those dreams that feel so real that they creep inside you and make you wonder if you’re crazy? That kind of a dream. This one was so real I could smell it.

It was about a girl with dark hair and fair skin and a gorgeous smile. Here’s where it gets a bit dodgy: I’d seen her face twice before, and yet we’d never met. Once in a previous dream, and then again in a vision I had at Nana’s when I was back in Ireland. Both times I’d been under extreme stress. The first was after an accident at sea that left three of my friends dead. The second was while I was having withdrawals from booze and painkillers.

But that’s another story.

This particular dream brought her closer than ever. I opened the door to my apartment there she was, in a long trench coat and navy-blue high heels and this pair of legs that went on forever. I could feel my heart begin to race as soon as I saw her. We were familiar, she and I, but I knew somehow that we had never made love. She commented on my apartment as if she’d never seen it before.

I slipped the coat off her shoulders and her scent overwhelmed me. I still don’t know what it was she was wearing. I’ve smelled a lot of women’s perfumes before and this was unlike anything I knew. Of course, it was a dream, so perhaps that particular scent doesn’t actually exist. Or maybe it isn’t a perfume at all. Maybe it’s just her scent. At any rate, it’s stuck in my nose and even now the mere thought of it makes me catch my breath.

In the dream I poured us some wine and we danced in the middle of my living room. I ran my fingers across the skin on her shoulders and down one arm, then followed with my mouth. If it’s possible, she tasted even better than she smelled.

I was caught completely in her atmosphere. The colors faded away. The apartment faded away. I picked her up and carried her to my bed, but it was all very dream-like, as if we were encased in light. All I could see was her face. Her eyes. Her body underneath me. Something clicked into place when we kissed, like I was diving inside her and exploring from the inside out.

We made love for hours. Or at least, what seemed like hours in the dream. When the room came back into focus it was daylight and she was in my arms, and I knew only one thing: I never wanted to let her go.

The dream had been gnawing at the corners of my mind, just far enough outside of reality to dismiss it, but real enough that I could feel the electricity course through my skin when I remembered the details. This was a woman from my dream world, and yet she was so real to me I could have sworn she existed in this world as well. It was a strange sort of existence that often felt like accessing both realms at once.

The Celts have a name for this. They call it walking between the worlds. I didn’t know if that’s what I was doing, I only knew that my experiences over the past several years had raised a lot of questions that didn’t have traditional answers.

But for now, back to the original story.

David and I were at Yankee Stadium. He was trying to cheer me up, I think. Not that I was depressed. More of a flat preoccupation with the business side of my life and absolutely no desire whatsoever to explore the life and culture of New York.

Ok, maybe I was a little depressed.

We got there and he ordered me a beer and a hot dog. He said these were the things you did at baseball games in America, so I went along with it, even though it was terrible and I ended up giving my hot dog to him to finish.

The beer wasn’t much better. It was terribly flavorless and served in a plastic cup that a toddler could crush with one hand. Ridiculous, I know.

“You’re going to love this. I promise.” He said, taking a bite of my hot dog. “Look at all these people!”

The stadium in Dublin was about this size, and I’d been to football games there. Fans are fans, and these fans seemed as loyal to their teams as any other sport. Honestly, I was bored already. No offense to the sport itself or its fans.

“It’s lovely, really.”

I took another sip of that beer he’d given me and I must have made an awful face, because David snatched my beer from me and flagged down the nearest concessions waiter.

“He’ll have a Coke please.”

I laughed at his obvious annoyance but took a sip of the Coke and gave him an exaggerated smile.

“There, is that better? Coca-Cola. Still iconic, still solidly American.” David chopped at the air with his hand.

“But considerably more drinkable.” I laughed.

“You haven’t been outside the bar in weeks. It’s time you had some fun.”

“Alright then. Explain the game to me.” I set my drink down and prepared to concentrate as David went over the rules.

I tried to get into the game, but honestly all I could think about was the paperwork and inventory that needed to be done back at the bar. After the hot dog failure, David made me try an Italian Sausage with peppers and onions and a giant pretzel with mustard. I’m not a huge fan of mustard, so the pretzel was just so-so, but the sausage was fairly fabulous. The smell of it brought me back to Mary’s place on the coast in Ireland. Mary owned a pub where I spent quite a bit of time. She was good people, Mary was.

A couple of kids sitting in front of us were arguing, the little girl clutching her doll as she pouted, and suddenly there in my mind were Declan and Bree, two precious wee ones that lived at Mary’s place now. Like I said, that’s a whole other story, but it felt more like a whole other lifetime.

The crowd kept cheering and David kept talking, but I was elsewhere. At the seventh inning stretch I got up to use the bathroom and as I walked through the crowds I caught a whiff of that scent. The one from my dream.

The girl. It was real?

I spun around, looking for her, but caught myself and chuckled. I was imagining things. I had to be. There were just too many memories today. Too much to pain that had to be put back away. The people in New York were fascinating to watch, though. I almost enjoyed that part of things more than the game itself, so I leaned against a post for a while, taking it all in. I still couldn’t shake that feeling. Something was up, I just couldn’t figure out what it was. Eventually, I made my way back down to our seats.

“Jesus, I thought maybe you fell in!” David said through a mouthful of pretzel.

“Another pretzel?”

“Yeah, I love these things. You want some?” He held it out to me but I shook my head and ordered another Coke. I would need to stay up if I wanted to finish that inventory.

When the game finished, we started threading our way through the crowd. I was still carrying my Coke, and a handful of napkins from our various food items. It was honestly very difficult to walk holding that flimsy cup and I was looking around for nearest trash bin to dispose of it when I got that strange electrical feeling I get sometimes when I know I’m supposed to pay attention.

My eyes searched for the source of the disturbance and I noticed two women walking a few paces ahead of us, one blond and the other brunette. That smell. That perfume. It couldn’t be. When I looked at them again, the hair stood up on the back of my neck, as if the air pressure had changed and it was about to storm. I looked up, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

I must have slowed down way too much, because the guy behind me gave me a hard shove and told me to keep moving, which launched me forward into the shoulder of the girl. I tried to grip that cup as I stumbled and merely succeeded in squeezing its contents all over her shirt.

She stopped suddenly and so did time, as I reached over with the napkins in my other hand and tried desperately to dry her off. Her shirt was ruined, and I felt simply horrible.

Out of nowhere her fist came up and socked me right in the face. The world went black for just a moment, and luckily David caught me before I hit the ground, because—well, that would’ve been embarrassing. My eyes were watering so badly, all I could see was her shaking her hand out in front of me, yelling furiously. Finally her face came into focus and everything froze.

It was her. The girl from my dreams. But that was…impossible, right?

I blinked a few times, still massaging my nose, dumbfounded. She kept on yelling at me, as did her friend. David elbowed me and I began to apologize, but it didn’t seem to help. A crowd was gathering around us and soon a security officer was standing there asking what the trouble was.

“This a-hole grabbed my breast, that’s what the problem is!”

“I did not!” I insisted, trying to calm my voice. “Someone ran into me and my drink went flying. I was merely trying to help. I was just trying to clean off your shirt. I did not mean to touch you inappropriately.”

The officer looked at me, massaging my nose and started laughing. “You punched him?”

“Yeah. I did,” she answered. Her body language said she wouldn’t mind doing it again.

“Good for you,” the officer nodded, then turned to me and said some word I’d never heard before but I’m assuming it wasn’t very nice. “You shoulda known better.”

The officer dismissed us and walked away and so did the crowd. We were all standing there and the girl’s friend started laughing. Loudly. So did David. Some mate he was. The girl looked down at her shirt and looked up at me and her face broke into a gorgeous smile. I knew that smile. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I knew that smile.

I stuck out my hand. “I’m Finn, and I’m extremely sorry I’ve ruined your shirt. Please, allow me to buy you a new one.”

“I just punched you in the face.” She looked down at her hand and splayed the fingers in and out a few times. “And you want to buy me a new shirt?”

Her eyebrows went up and she was shaking her head, still smiling. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was breathtaking.

“It’s…the least I could do, really. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. Truly.”

She took my hand and shook it.  “If you’re sure,” I tried to smile. “I don’t think I caught your name.” God, I wanted to know her name. I was fascinated and intrigued and aroused all at the same time. I tried to keep my eyes trained on her face, but the whole picture was simply beautiful. I tried not to imagine her in a trench coat and a pair of navy-blue heels.

“Truly” she said again. We were still shaking hands.

“Oh, I see. You’d rather not give me your name.” My eyes fell and so did my hopes. Standing before me was, quite literally, the girl of my dreams, and I’d completely blown it and she didn’t want anything to do with me. “I completely understand. It’s…not a problem.”

Her hand dropped away, and as she let go the smell of her perfume filled my senses. I breathed it in, and her head tilted slightly as she watched me.

“Her name is Truly,” her friend added, with emphasis on the word name. “It’s short for Trulane, but she hates it when people call her that, so if you don’t want to get punched again, I’d stick with Truly.”

The girl’s eyes went wide. “That is a bold-faced lie!” She looked at me apologetically. “I don’t normally punch people either. I’m really sorry. Is your nose alright?”

I wiggled it a bit, checking all the parts. “No harm done, but I must say, you’ve got quite the right hook for a girl. I’ve gotten less of a spin by some of the blokes I went to school with.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Yeah, well. I guess it was a reflex. Let’s just call it good. We have to get going.”

She grabbed onto her friend’s arm, but her friend wasn’t moving. She was looking at David, who was returning the favor.

“Yes. Of course,” I offered. “Unless…” She waited. I wanted to know more. I needed to find out who she was. This chance, it was…one in a million. The odds were astronomical. Unless…

“…You’d at least let me buy you a cup of coffee?” That was what people in America liked to do, wasn’t it? But maybe she didn’t like coffee. I started throwing out other options “Or tea. Or…cocoa.” It was no use. I dropped my head in defeat. I was making a fool of myself. “I obviously have no idea what you like to drink.”

She was pulling her shirt out of her pants, looking down at the stains. “Well, I think I’ve had plenty of Coke, so something warm might be nice.”

She looked back up and smiled at me again. That beautiful smile. I realized with some surprise that I couldn’t hear any of the other people in the stadium. No one else existed. It was like I was in a time warp or a dream sequence, and yet, I knew it was real. And I wanted desperately to take the next step, whatever it might be.

“May we give you a ride?” I asked, as politely as I could. I wanted so much to be a gentleman after having been such a fool.

She and her friend looked at each other. Her friend, who’s name turned out to be Kate, said to David “We were just going to take the subway.”

“I’m going to need to change,” Truly stated, wringing some of the wetness out of her shirt. It was stuck to her body beautifully, outlining the delicate lines of her collarbones and making me remember everything I loved about women.

“Perhaps we could share a cab,” I offered. “We could drop by your place so you could change and then continue on?”

She was staring at me and I found myself reliving parts of my dream that I hadn’t previously remembered. I swallowed with some difficulty, waiting for her answer.

“Ok” she smiled. “Why not. Kate?”

“You know me, sweetie. I’m always down.”

David winked at me and we set off in the direction of the front gates. Hailing a cab isn’t quite so difficult as one might imagine in the company of a woman wearing a wet t-shirt.

 Chapter One 

“Why not go out on a limb? That’s where the fruit is.”

M.T.

TRULY

Looking back, I can’t say that I saw any of this coming. I didn’t understand my own story, even when I was right in the middle of it. I wonder if it’s like that for most people. It’s true that Finn changed my life, but it was already changing - I just didn’t know it at the time.

 Finn came into my life when I just about had things all sewn up. I was working on my first novel and had a regular stream of freelance gigs in multiple magazines with decent circulation. I'd even published a few special interest pieces in The Times. I had a good relationship with one of the editors over there and he was considering bringing me in on a more regular basis. He liked my no-nonsense way of looking at life, and said New Yorkers seemed to like it too. I mean, let’s face it—living in New York can be challenging. The only way to get through it is with good planning and a regular routine.

I’d written a piece about organizing stuff in your closet, followed up with one on organizing your financial stuff, then spread out to include menu stuff, trip stuff, “social media and other time sucking stuff”. People were eating it up. They wanted to dub me “The Stuff Girl.” This worked for me. I liked having a place for everything and everything in its place. 

It wasn’t until Kate and I were in the back of that cab and I was looking into his beautiful eyes that I’d even considered the idea of veering off the path. I’m not even sure it was a conscious decision. He invited me out for coffee and for some reason I still can’t explain, I said yes. There are a lot of things I can’t explain when it comes to Finn.

That night the guys waited while we stopped by my apartment so that I could change my shirt. The minute we hit the steps, Kate was grilling me.

“You know I’m always up for a challenge, but you? I’ve known you three years and you’ve never done anything even remotely close to this! What’s going on with you?”

“I really couldn’t tell you.” The hard New York edge was off of my voice and I was suddenly pensive and almost shy. “There was something in his eyes.” I shrugged. “Something in my heart said yes.”

“Yes, he’s a stalker? Yes, you want to marry him? What does yes mean?”

“Yes, we should have coffee! Yes, I should forgive him for ruining my shirt. I don’t know Kate, ok? Let’s just see where this goes.”

She leaned against the door in the hallway as I fumbled with my keys, repeating my words. “Let’s just see where this goes?" Just inside the door she turned me to face the small mirror on the wall. “See this face? This girl?”

I looked. Really looked. “Yes. I see her.”

“This is not a girl who says things like Let’s just see where this goes. This is a girl who dots i’s and crosses t’s. A girl who makes lists and weighs pros and cons.” She turned me back toward the door. “A girl with six different kinds of locks on her apartment to ward off stalkers and all but the sickest of thieves with death wishes. Who are you?” She smiled at me then, and I knew she was just teasing. “Hey, I’m just saying is all.”

I shook my head and walked to the bedroom, searching the left side of my closet, way back to two-thousand and one, and found the perfect shirt. It was a pale-pink, peasant number with some tiny polka dots in the piping.

“Pink?” Kate says to me. “In the whole time I’ve known you I have never once seen you in pink.”

“I know.” I winked at her. “Just trying to keep you on your toes.”

“Truly you are an enigma.”

“Thank you.” I nodded and held the door open. “Shall we?”

Kate just kept shaking her head as she followed me out.

“And by the way, I only have three locks – not six,” I reminded her.

“Whatever.”

Down in the cab Finn had been lounging with his arm across the back bench, but he sat up straight and scooted right over when he realized we were at the window. His friend David jumped out and let the two of us in before squeezing next to Kate. Four in the back of a cab is cozy at best.

Kate and David were talking and laughing in no time. I, on the other hand, had no clue what I was doing there, so I figured we should start with the basics. I asked Finn what he did for a living.

“Well, when I’m not accidentally fondling perfect strangers, I run a company that develops new technology for film making. You know, CGI and what not. Dabble in some other ideas.”

Dabble? Who said dabble anymore? “Oh. Really?”

“Did you think maybe I was a contract killer or a serial rapist then?”

“You have a very dry sense of humor.” I replied.

“So I’ve been told. I don’t mean to put you off though. Do I somehow not look the part of a computer geek?”

He was ridiculously handsome, and when he smiled, only one side of his mouth hooked up, kind of like a lazy eye but farther down. “Maybe it’s the accent. I can’t really place it. English or Irish?”

“Both actually.” He grinned at me and laid it on extra thick, changing voices mid-stream and then melding them together at the end. “Me mum is a brit and me da is an Irishman. I’m afraid I favor them both at times.”

“It’s a bit confusing but…charming nonetheless.” I smiled at him and could have sworn some sort of light twinkled in his eyes.

“And you? What is it you do?” He turned serious to match my earlier line of questioning. I couldn’t tell if he was being polite or mocking me.

“Well, when I’m not being inappropriately fondled by half-breed Irishmen, I’m a writer.”

“Oh!” He feigned a concerned look and leaned toward me a little. “Does that mean my less than gentlemanly conduct will be ensconced in the pages of a brilliant novel someday?”

“I’m not sure yet. Let’s just see where this goes.”

Kate eyed me again. She was right of course. I kept saying that. Why on earth did I keep saying that? I’m not a fly by the seat of your pants girl–what was I even doing?

A sigh escaped my lips and Finn looked over. “Bored already?”

“No, just arguing with myself.”

His mouth curved up part way. “I hope you’re winning.”

“Always.” He was staring at me. I hate it when people stare at me. “Let’s go to a club!” I blurted.

Judging from the look on Kate’s face, I’d already lost sight of the edge of the cliff. She looked at me as if I’d grown fur and an extra set of limbs.

Finn looked over at David with a raise of his eyebrows. “Who knew that unintentional abuse could bring about such sweet rewards?”

I leaned forward, shaking my head, and was about to give the cab driver an address when Finn scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it up. The driver read what was written on it and nodded with a smirk of approval on his face.

We pulled up in front of an unassuming door with a couple of Greek Gods for bouncers and a line around the block. I sighed audibly. I had neither the time nor the inclination to spend an extra couple of hours waiting in the freezing cold. And I definitely wasn’t dressed for it. Finn peeked at the line and smiled at me again.

“Shall we?”

This was turning out to be a colossal mistake. I tried to make eye contact with Kate, but she was already getting out of the cab. I knew that look–like we’d just stepped into Saks. I followed her eyes, but didn’t see anything unusual. Just a bunch of freezing cold, well-dressed posers waiting to become yet another sardine in the can. I stood by the curb but didn’t want to let go of the door. My instincts told me to just get back in the cab and say goodnight, but then a warm, gentle hand was on the small of my back, leading me toward the sidewalk.

Finn smiled at the Gods and they parted the waters. The ropes were unhooked and we walked through to the warmth of a techno-pop haze. The music was loud but not quite deafening. There was plenty of comfortable seating and the dance floor was spacious. Several bar areas spanned the two floors of converted warehouse and it actually seemed pretty well organized. Still a bar, but almost…civilized.

Suddenly I had a new idea for a piece for The Times. I started scanning the layout, making mental notes and pulling out a pad and pen for good measure. I quickly sketched out a couple of the seating ideas and drew a rough layout of the main floor.

“Hey, what’s this place called?” I looked up at Finn, all business, and he started to laugh.

He looked down at my drawing and back at me, puzzled. “Planning a party? Good luck. I heard you’ve got to book this place a year in advance and the owner’s a real hard-ass.”

“A party?” I shook my head, frustrated. “No, of course not!” I dismissed him. How absurd. Why would I want to plan a party at a place like this? Dissatisfied, I turned to his friend David. “I need the name of this place.”

I followed David’s grin and it landed on a matching face to my right. “It’s called Finnegan’s.”

The bulb now fully lit above my head, I proceeded to close my mouth and try to act unimpressed. I nodded in Finn’s direction. “Is there any other dabbling I should know about? Diamond mines, oil refineries, that kind of thing?”

He looked like a schoolboy–embarrassed almost, although it was hard to tell if he was blushing in the dim light. It was adorable and I found my eyes trailing down to his lips as the one side of his mouth curved up. I blinked, shaking my head and forcing my eyes away from his face.

He laughed softly and hooked a finger under my chin so I’d look at him again. “Can I get you a drink?”

I composed myself quickly. He’d ignored my question about the dabbling, so I moved on. Who knows how many women he’d brought here like this, trying to impress them with his Moses act. He waited patiently for my response.

“Well, I don’t know. What’s good here? Do they have any specialties?”

Finn watched me with interest. I watched right back. He hesitated, then answered. “As far as I know there’s not a drink on the planet they can’t make. You name it, they’ve got it.”

“Really! Well, color me happy! Let’s see if they can make me my favorite.”

I threaded my way through the crowd to the nearest bar. Finn was right on my heels. The bartender was an experienced looking fellow, about twice Finn’s age with a sort of blonding gray hair but similar blue eyes that smiled at me before his mouth ever started its ascent.  Finn leaned sideways on the bar and watched me, awaiting his victory lap. 

I slid effortlessly onto a black leather stool and leaned both arms on the deep, polished mahogany. “Caipirinha please.”

The man nodded and pulled out a fresh lime, which he cut into several wedges, adding them to a hefty–sized rocks glass with a couple teaspoons of sugar. After mashing them together for a couple of minutes he pulled the telltale red, black and yellow bottle of 51 Pirassununga from a shelf behind him and poured some out, shaking it with a good dose of ice before pouring it over the fruit mixture.

The way Finn watched me made me feel warm and wanted, invited to participate fully in his experience of life. He was laughing again.

“What’s so funny?” I looked around for Kate, but she and David had made their way to one of the dance floors and I was alone with Finn and the two hundred or so other blurs that surrounded his face.

“I don’t know. Just didn’t peg you for a girl who’d spent time in Rio.”

I took a sip of my drink and found it perfect. The slow burn that always followed the sweet, tangy smoothness made its way down my esophagus and somehow landed south of where it belonged. I didn’t like where this was going.

The bartender tilted his head slightly as he looked at me. “How is it?”

“Oh! It’s great! Thank you!” I started to reach into my purse for a twenty but he shook his head. I looked at him, then at Finn.

“Shall we go find a seat?” A glass of clear liquid had made its appearance on the bar next to Finn and he scooped it up in one fluid motion.

“Ok. Sure.” I nodded.

Finn tapped the top of the bar twice and grinned at the bartender. “Thanks, da.”

There was that hand on my lower back again. I was beginning to feel like the proverbial sheep being led to slaughter. “Da? Nice, Finn. Nice.”

He laughed heartily then. “I thought you’d like that one.”

We slid into a comfortable booth. “So this is your dad’s place then?”

“It’s a joint venture.”

“Oh yeah? Who started out smoking the joint?”

Finn laughed out loud. “He provides the money, and I provide the planning and urban design that makes it a hit.”

I looked around again and remembered the article idea. He’d planned this out? It was really well done. Definitely a hit.

“How long do you make people wait out there in the cold?”

He glanced toward the door. “As long as it takes to keep critical mass but not overwhelm it. People like to know it’s popular, but they want to be able to breathe as well.”

I hooked my thumb toward the doors. “And that’s where Venus and Apollo come in?”

He grinned at me. “Yes. Exactly.” His arm was still up on the back of the seat, and I liked that it was above me, even if we weren’t touching. His other arm was up too. It wasn’t like he was trying to put his arm around me, but I found myself wishing he would. I shook my head again. This was completely absurd. Where was Kate when I needed her? I scanned the dance floor but she was nowhere to be found.

Finn tipped his head sideways and studied me. “Who’s winning now?”

I looked over. “What? Winning what?”

“The argument you keep having with yourself.”

I sat up a little straighter. “I am. I told you, I always win these arguments. I don’t stand a chance against myself.”

His eyes narrowed and he took a sip of his drink. “So, how is it you came to be fond of Cachaca? Are you sure you’ve never been to Brazil?”

“Only in my mind.” I took another sip, but he still wasn’t tracking with me. “Ever read John Updike?”

He shook his head.

“He wrote a book called Brazil back in 1995. Kind of a Tristan and Isolde story line.”

“Well, see now? I hadn’t pegged you for a romantic either.”

Ok, so that made me a boring homebody who watched psychological thrillers?

He took a slow, deep breath in and I watched his chest rise and fall. He was very purposeful when he spoke. “What does the book have to do with Cachaca?”

“I don’t know, it was the beverage of choice in the story, so I tried it once and I really liked it. It felt exotic to me, even though in Brazil it’s a poor man’s drink.” I took a long sip of my Caipirinha and this time the burn went to my head.

He watched me with some amount of amused concern. “You know, they say Cachaca is like Tequila in some ways. Too much can cloud your judgment.”

I nodded. “So I’ve heard.” Finn wasn’t the only one who kept things close to his chest. He didn’t need to know my history. I was feeling self-conscious, and more than a little angry with Kate for deserting me.

“I like your shirt.”

I shot Finn a look. “Excuse me?”

“Your shirt. It’s much better than the other one.”

“You mean the ruined one?”

His eyes rolled back and his head followed. He did seem genuinely sorry. “Are you certain you won’t let me reimburse you for it?”

“Positive.”

“Pink. Hmm.”

I shook my head. “What is it with you and this shirt thing?”

His head pulled back as if I’d pushed into his personal space. “I just didn’t peg you for a pink girl.”

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. I wondered if he knew he was actually going backwards in the point-making game?

“But I like it. It creates this…fascinating contrast.” He rolled his hand in a circle as if to frame my head.

I looked down at my shirt. It was pale pink against my winter-white skin, which at this point in my fluorescent light existence was almost translucent.

“I’m sorry, did you say contrast?” I had to raise my voice a bit because the music had ramped up.

Just then David and Kate plopped down, obviously exhausted. She looked over at Finn. “Your friend’s a great dancer! I haven’t had this much fun in ages!”

Finn smiled and raised his voice to match the increase in volume. “David dances professionally.”

It was Kate’s turn to be surprised. “Really! Where?”

David shrugged. “Mostly off Broadway. Trying to break in still.”

Kate nodded, satisfied. She’d studied at the School of Performing Arts, but never really ventured out past graduation, and hadn’t gotten picked up by a dance company. Instead she taught at one of the modern dance studios on the Upper East Side and helped with choreography at the high school in her neighborhood.

“Well, Kate graduated from PA!” I offered with a grin. She kicked me under the table.

“No kidding!” David leaned forward and they ascended into their own little version of dancer’s heaven, leaving Finn and I sitting there, staring at one another.

“Can I get you another?” He was staring at my empty glass.

My eyes were already having a little trouble staying focused. I knew I’d lose my cool if I had another and we ended up alone together, but at the time I didn’t really care. 

“You bet.”

“Well, aren’t you a brave one?”

“And what is it you’re drinking over there? Water?”

“Vodka. And I’ll join you in a second round if you don’t mind.”

I smiled. “I think I’d mind if you didn’t.”

He was gone in a flash and David followed his lead after getting Kate’s order. As soon as they were out of sight, Kate was right in my face.

“What the hell are you drinking?” She picked up my glass and sniffed it. “Oh, no you don’t. What are you, crazy? You never order that crap anymore. Don’t you remember the last time you drank that poison?”

“Of course I do.” I could tell I had a dumb smile on my face already. Kate looked over at the bar. Finn and David were talking to Finn’s father. “He is fine. I’ll give you that.”

As I was watching he looked over at me. Neither of us smiled or made any overt gestures, yet our faces entered into an entire conversation. He just stared and I couldn’t break my gaze loose. I couldn’t figure out if he was playing me or if I’d somehow entered a parallel universe. Maybe he was right. Maybe he would need to be ensconced in a brilliant narrative someday.

The two of them walked back toward us with drinks in hand, but if I didn’t get up and move a bit I’d be sorry when it came time to drink that second round. Before Finn reached the booth I slid out and took the two glasses from his hands, setting them down on the table behind me.

I grabbed his hands, and they were both cold. He must drink his vodka chilled. “Do you dance?”

“Not if I can help it, but I’m willing to embarrass myself if you are.”

I pulled him toward the dance floor. “Who said I was going to embarrass myself?”

Before we could weave our way through the crowd the song slowed down and I eyed him suspiciously, scanning the room for the DJ’s box. “Did you do that?”

He smiled smugly. “Do what?” In one fluid motion he dropped one of my hands and wrapped his securely around my waist, spinning me toward him until we were face to face. His hand was warm again, surprisingly warm, and I was thankful for whoever dimmed the lights on the dance floor, certain that my cheeks now matched the color of my shirt.

I too had danced much of my life, but the way he moved me around made me feel like an extension of his arms and legs. We flowed easily together, like two rivers into the same ocean.

If this was foreshadowing, I was in for an awfully long fall.

It’s important to note here that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. At that moment I can honestly say it was pretty close to the farthest thing from my mind. Kate was right. The last time I had Cachaca I’d ended the night with a guy that turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. Fast-forward two years, including the nine months I spent in therapy, and I was just getting my life back on track. I didn’t need a distraction, but then again, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be held by someone who wanted to match his rhythm with mine.

The idea was tempting. The guy was quicksand.