Nice Girls Don’t do That

The crowded bar buzzed with excitement. Voices raised over the booming music, rendering conversation impossible amidst the cacophony, and although I'm not particularly graceful, my friends and I concluded that dancing was the best choice. The rhythm guided our hips as we moved, pausing only for bathroom breaks or to order drinks. Rolling back my shoulders and wildly throwing my arms up, I hollered to my friend Libby. “I’m a wizard!”

“Your moves are boss!” She shouted back. The beauty(or curse) of alcohol is that you stop caring whether you look or sound ridiculous. Needing another drink, I forced myself through the crowd which required the ability to throw an elbow when needed. After navigating the sea of bodies, I waited to order my third drink.

“Another cranberry and vodka?” The bartender offered.

Since we weren't regulars, I was surprised he was able to recall my previous orders.

“Impressive!” I exclaimed. “I’m amazed that you remembered amongst this madness.”

“I just pay attention.” He replied with a slight smirk.

“Still, there’s an insane amount of people here for you to pay attention to little old me.” I acknowledged.

I stared, mesmerized, as the bartender moved fluidly to the rhythm while he worked. As he finished mixing my drink, a rogue lock of his hair fell forward. With a swift motion, he smoothed it back into place, securing it with an elastic. Then, he washed his hands, rubbing the soap into a lather before rinsing. With one nudge, he sent the drink gliding across the bar to me.

"Honestly, in this chaos, yours was the only one I remembered for certain," he confessed, his smile showcasing a single dimple and an incorrigible glimmer in his eyes. “It was a risky move on my part. You could’ve easily requested something else, but since I’d already made you two in a row, I was banking on you sticking with the trend.”

His words were an admission that he’d been watching me. Until that instant, I hadn't noticed, but he was stunning. I couldn't help but admire him, studying every aspect like a work of art. His white t-shirt accentuated his sculpted arms and chest. His cheekbones and flawless olive skin were envy-inducing. Those hazel eyes sparkled, rendering me speechless. I managed a smile and slid a twenty across the bar, but he returned it, refusing my offer.

“That one’s on me.”

“Consider it a tip, then.” I countered.

“What’s your name?” he inquired.

“Flora.”

“Nice to meet you, Flora. Declan Frye,” he introduced himself, extending his hand. As our palms met, his touch ignited something in me, sending tingles coursing through my body.

“I’ll be honest, Flora. I’m not supposed to socialize with patrons, but I’m finding myself distracted by you. So here’s the deal. Dance with me later,” It wasn’t a question. He lightly pressed the cash into my hand. “Consider it payment for the drink. But only if you’re interested, of course.”

Oh, I was interested. However, not wanting to appear overeager, I attempted to maintain my composure.

“You’ll regret it for all of eternity? Do I detect some hyperbole in that line?”

“It’s not a line. I’m not that smooth.” He assured.

“I’m with other people. I don’t know how long we’ll stay, but when you say later, how late are you talking?” 

"I wasn't scheduled tonight," he explained, "They called me in due to the rush. I need to help catch up on orders and finish evening work. Once the crowd thins out, I can leave. However, I'm happy to share my number with you. If you leave, let me know your plans."

“I’m flattered, Declan, but I don’t know you, and I don’t make a habit of dancing with strange men. And by that, I mean I don’t do it. I’m a pre-law student. I don’t have time to date, so I don't want to give you false expectations.

If I agree, it's only to dance." As I spoke, it felt like I was trying to convince myself as much as him.

Libby was worlds away, across the packed dance floor. Attempting to text her, I received no response and surmised she’d been oblivious to notifications amidst the music and shouting. Determined to dish about Declan, I shouldered through an obstacle course of sweaty bodies, all bouncing and swaying. I was whipped in the face by someone's hair, and some rando grabbed my ass, so I jabbed him with my sharp elbow. My hair snagged on a girl's overalls, causing her to spill her drink on me. Despite offering to replace it, she waved me off with a "don't worry about it" gesture. Approaching my friends, I found myself drenched in Miller Light.

“Girl, what happened?” Libby asks. So, I explained the entire situation.

“Which one is Declan?” She inquired.

"The guy with the sexy man bun,” I whispered, surreptitiously gesturing toward him.

"Damn, Flora. He's sure purty," Libby remarked, her faux southern accent exaggerated. "Are you sure he's into girls?"

"I'm not certain of anything, Lib. But If he's not into me, he's one hell of an actor," I replied. “Also, every nerve in my body sparked when he touched my hand. What are the odds of him slicing me up and tossing me in the dumpster a la American Psycho?”

“Probably low,” She laughed. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I’ll stay here with you,” she said. “He’s a handsome devil.”

“I know Declan Frye,” my friend Jayson informed me. “He graduated last year but I’ve known him for a while, and he's a decent guy.”

“If you can vouch for him, that works for me.” I rationalized. “You guys head out whenever.”

An hour later, the crowd began dwindling. It was Riverside time – on Saturdays, everyone heads there for quarter drafts from midnight to one.

“Oh my God!” Libby announced. “He's headed this way.”

We locked eyes, and a wide grin spread across Declan’s face. With fewer people there, he strutted languidly across the floor, exuding charisma and grace. Despite his claim of not being smooth, his presence was undeniably captivating

“You waited,” he said.

“I did.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Declan, this is my friend, Libby. Libby, Declan.”

“Listen, Declan,” Libby started, her tone and demeanor making me instantly tense. Here we go. I thought. I swear to God, if you do anything to hurt her, I make your life a living nightmare. Comprendé?”

“Understood,” he said. My face heated and I looked at him mouthing “I’m sorry.”

After exchanging pleasantries and engaging in small talk, my friends headed to Lakeview. They bounded towards the door in excitement, arms waving with carefree abandon.

Declan approached the jukebox, tapping and gliding his fingers across the touchscreen. I concluded that he’d reset it because the lively music abruptly stopped. The ceiling A/C unit above blasted icy cold air at us. Once sweltering in the crowded bar, I now shivered. His curls shifted as the air current gently tousled his hair, releasing his woodsy citrus cologne. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, intoxicated by his scent. The first song he’d chosen had a slow, haunting melody. Declan turned, taking my hand in his. Intertwining our fingers, he led me to the dance floor. His breath near my ear sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "You smell incredible, Flora." My pulse quickened, my nerves tingled, and my stomach tightened. Audibly swallowing, I realized no man had ever stirred such visceral reactions within me. Following his lead, I synchronized my steps with his, gently swaying to the rhythm.

We floated effortlessly across the floor. Though the bar had emptied considerably, a few others still danced, but their presence faded into the background. I only saw him. Declan moved his hand from the small of my back to my face, softly brushing the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “Flora,” he whispered against my temple.

“I want to know you. Tell me something about yourself.” A beat. “Please,” he added, his voice tinged with desperation.

“You’re making it difficult for me to think,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

“How so?” He asked. Spinning me out, then reeling me back in, he pulled me closer and let his hand wander the length of my back. I inhaled the delicious scent of his skin.

"Well, you mentioned you weren't exactly smooth, but I disagree. For instance, you're a spectacular dance partner."

"What if I told you that dance is one of my rare talents, thanks to being raised by a single mom who was also a dance instructor? I spent much of my childhood dancing, watching her classes, and sometimes even participating. I've seen more Fred Astaire movies than I care to admit. But all of this made me a target among my peers, leaving me feeling insecure and awkward to this day."

"Well, let me assure you, you're anything but awkward. I've never felt more charmed by someone," I admitted.

“You find me charming?” He asked.

“Unequivocally.”

“You still haven’t told me anything about yourself.” 

“I hate spiders,” I said, stifling a chuckle.

“Something real. That doesn’t count.” 

“Okay. I’m feeling incredibly attracted to you which is stupid because I don’t know you, and I don’t need the distraction of a relationship right now,” I explained.

“Can we be friends?” He asked.

“HA! Like that ever works. I bit.

“What if I promise not to get in the way of your pursuits?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Would it help if I told you I also excel at keeping my promises?”

“That depends. If I told you right now that I wanted you to kiss me, would you do it?” I asked, testing his resolve. He didn’t answer, at least not verbally. With a graceful dip, his hand supporting my back, he lowered us before pulling me back into his embrace. His lips hovered near my forehead, dangerously close to my skin. Gradually, he leaned in, his mouth trailing from my ear to my jaw, then inching towards my lips. My breath hitched, nearly succumbing to the moment. However, a sudden wave of panic surged within me. I couldn't risk jeopardizing my scholarship or my education. Despite my determination to prioritize my future, my attraction to him intensified. How could I feel this way about someone I barely knew?

Withdrawing my hand from his shoulder, I dabbed at my eye, feeling a mix of emotions well up inside me. I could've distracted myself from crying if he hadn't been so observant.

"Flora, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" he inquired, his concern evident in his voice.

My ability to answer faltered, breaking the levies and allowing my tears to spill over.

Declan gently brushed his thumb against my cheeks, wiping my tears.

“I think I should leave.”

“Okay. I won't keep you, but can we talk first?” He inquired, his expression tinged with genuine concern.

“I’m sorry I kissed you, Flora. Well, not entirely. I regret acting impulsively. I misinterpreted the signals," he confessed.

“How so?”

“You’d mentioned you weren’t looking for a relationship, but when you asked what I’d do if you asked me to kiss you, I misunderstood. If you tell me to back off, I will. But I’m hoping you don't.” He said, his voice laden with desperation.

“I’m not upset that you kissed me. I’m upset that I liked it.”

“Why does that upset you?”

“I need to focus on school, but I become too singularly focused. The few times I’ve gotten involved with someone, my grades have dropped. I received a full scholarship, and I can’t compromise that. I also have a single mom. She can’t afford my tuition. But what’s more frightening is that I’ve never experienced such intense attraction to anyone. I’m having urges and thoughts and desperately want to act on them, but nice girls don’t go home with strange men. I’ve never been that kind of girl. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression or think I’m some one-night conquest.

"I feel the same, Flora. When I approached you, it was completely out of character for me. I saw you with your friends, laughing and radiating this aura of unassuming confidence. I was intrigued, but after our brief exchange, I knew there was something more. I've never felt this drawn to anyone, especially not someone I've just met. I’m captivated by your smile, your gestures, the way you carry yourself, the way your hair cascades down your back in waves, swaying with your movements. This is my last week working here, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I'd ever see you again. There was a sinking feeling in my gut that if I didn't act, you'd leave tonight, and I'd spend the rest of my life wondering. I don't want to rush you. The last thing I want is to push you away. I'm simply hoping to get to know you better."

“I’d like to get to know you too, but I know myself, and if I continue feeling this magnetism, this undeniable chemistry, my self-control will be off the table.”

“Self-control is overrated,” he murmured in my ear. Reaching for my hands and lacing our fingers together, Declan guided me into a spin under our entwined arms, then gracefully twirled me and drew me back in, securely against his body, annihilating my restraint.

“Kiss me,” I whispered breathlessly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. But I’m warning you that I may not be able to stop.”

“I’d be okay with that,” he answered, laughing softly and running his fingers through my hair. “But I’m going to wait.”

“For?” I asked, trying to conceal my disappointment.

“The right moment, right place. I don’t want to cheapen it.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I admitted.

“Like you said, you’re not a one-night conquest. I’m not some douchebag merely trying to pick you up. I’m happy to take it slow and wait for a more appropriate moment. I want you to feel certain. You’re right; we don't know one another, and I don’t want to become something you regret.” Declan expressed, his sincerity transparent in his gaze and tone.

“That might be the most sensible thing I ever heard a man say.”

Tenderly holding my face in his hands, Declan lifted my chin, our eyes locking. “Flora, I’m sorry I made you cry. I never want you to shed tears because of me. Never. Do you grasp that?" he implored, driving me to the brink of madness.

Moments ago, I questioned my sanity for wanting to act on impulse but the more he assured me his willingness to wait, the stronger the magnetic pull became, and the greater the desire to become lost in the tangle of our bodies beneath my sheets. With each word, every caress, the longing intensified. His earnestness seemed genuine. Was he a gentleman or cunning enough to know that this show of restraint would make me want him even more?

A voice still lingered in the recesses of my mind, reminding me again that nice girls don't indulge in impulsive desires with strangers.

But I reasoned there exist shades of gray in every situation. Surely, exceptions can be granted when attraction is as potent and undeniable as this.

"It's been a while since I've been with anyone, so even though this isn't technically new to me, it feels that way," I confessed. "But rest assured, Declan Frye, I'm not fragile. My anxiety just got the best of me for a moment, but I’m seeing things differently. Struggling with classes probably had less to do with my romantic encounters and more with college being new to me. All I know is that the minute hand on that clock is rounding nearer to closing time, and I don't want to say goodnight once we leave."

His mouth grazed my lips, but it was a ruse. Instead, he dipped me, then brought me back up, making me gasp for air as I resurfaced. “So where do we go from here?” he purred, causing my belly to jolt from anticipation.

“To heaven,” I whispered in his ear. A slight giggle escaped my lips against his neck, making him groan. I liked that I could affect him in such a way. I liked it, maybe too much.

“You may be the death of me,” he laughed. “I think I'm suffering from whiplash. And just where is heaven, Flora?” He asked, his words vibrating against my jawline. Shivers everywhere.

“I don't know, Declan. Your place or mine?” 

Where would you be most comfortable?” He asked softly into my hair.

“Obviously, mine but I’d like to see your place too. I want to know everything about you.” 

"We can make that happen," he said, but his gaze became distant. We ceased dancing. He tenderly ran his hands up and down my arms, perhaps trying to warm me. I didn't mention that my goosebumps weren't from the cold; if anything, I was burning up.

"What’s wrong?" I asked, concerned about the shift in his demeanor.

"Nothing,” he replied, “Do you remember what I said about my promises?”

"You always keep them."

Once more, he cupped my face in his hands, meeting my eyes. "If this relationship progresses as I expect, I want you to know that I'll ensure you don't fall behind in school. I won't let you give up on your dreams. That's a promise. If you ever struggle or feel overwhelmed, just tell me, and I'll give you space. Alright?"

Those words were everything I needed to hear.

“Well in that case,” I whispered into his ear, backing away slightly. Then grabbing his arm and laughing, I shouted “Run!”

The bar was nearly empty, and our footsteps echoed loudly on the wooden floor, bursting towards the exit. We dashed down the sidewalk, buildings and signs blurring past us. Car lights and street lamps flashed by in my periphery. Picking up speed, our steps seemed lighter on the pavement. Lungs burning, we ran faster, night air whipping against our faces. Turning the corner towards my apartment, we slowed, gasping for breath as we approached my brownstone. I reached for my keys, but he snatched them from me, lifting me into his arms. I felt every step as he bounded up the front staircase, both of us laughing. He opened the front door, and I directed him towards the stairs. "Up!" I squealed. "2B!" I shouted as we neared my door. "Not the car key!" I shrieked.

"Really?" he asked, pretending to consider the Subaru key. I giggled, feeling lighter than I had in a long time, perhaps ever. I couldn't contain my laughter, watching him struggle with the lock while balancing me in his arms.

"Shh! You'll wake your neighbors," he whispered, stifling a laugh.

"Do you want me to open it?"

"Nope," he replied, turning the key. He carried me inside, closed the door firmly, and secured the deadbolt before placing me gently on the couch. As he kissed me, I reciprocated, kissing him back with everything I had.