Changing Course (2 page)

I stand there for a minute, shocked by the rejection and trying to figure out a new plan of action. I refuse to walk away. Jerry Jerkoff from across the bar is not getting anywhere near my Red Dress.

"Hey, you're tall!" I hear slurred from beside me. Turning, I come face to face with one of the sexiest women I have ever seen, and the newest member of my mental spank bank.

"So are you," I reply into her ear so she can hear me over the music. I toss her a mischievous smile when I lean away, just so there is no mistaking that I'm interested.

"No, I mean you are reallllly tall." She sways backwards, making a dramatic show of craning her neck to look into my eyes.

I laugh nodding my head to agree with her assessment, while she grabs her friends squealing, "Y'all look how tall this guy is." I squeeze my eyes shut and adjust my pants as I hear the sweetest southern accent roll off my drunken beauty's tongue.

"Hi, I'm Brett," I extend my hand out to her friend.

"Hi, I'm Regina Phalange," Shorty says, grabbing my hand.

"And I'm Anastasia Beaverhousen. Anastasia, as in the Russian royal princess. Beaverhousen, as in the house a beaver lives in." They all double over in fits of laughter.

"Right. Of course you are. So that would make you...?" I ask my girl when she finally stands back up and tries to wipe invisible tears from under her eyes.

"Oh God, I'm sorry about them. They have been drinking since noon, I swear. I'm Danika. Just Danika," she says without a single slur. Interesting. Maybe she isn't as drunk as I first thought.

"Well, Danika, can I buy you and your drunk friends a drink?"

"Sure...wait! Are you planning to drug any of us?" she asks in mock seriousness.

"Well, it wasn't the plan. But if you happen to have any drugs on you, I'd be happy to drop them in your drink when you aren't looking."

"Nah, I'm good. I roofied myself last weekend and it wasn't all that fun. I'll just take the drink," she jokes.

"Totally understandable," I nod, playing along.

"What do y'all want to drink? Brett here is buying this round," she yells over her shoulder to her friends. "Oh forget it, they can't hear me. Just get us a Corona, Sex on the Beach, and a shot of tequila."

I flag down the bartender to order, adding a beer for myself. As I wait for the drinks, I alternate between chatting with the girls and staring down Jerry Jerkoff from across the bar.

"So which one is yours?" I ask as our drinks are placed on the bar in front of us.

"What? Oh, you mean the drinks? That depends, which one do you think is mine?" she says, throwing her own flirtatious smile my way.

"Okay, let's see," I rub my chin pretending to be deep in thought. "You don't seem drunk enough to be drinking tequila shots tonight, so that's out. And you don't seem like the type of girl to order a fruity drink that comes complete with a cherry sword skewer and toy umbrella. Simple process of elimination, I'm going to guess the Corona is yours."

Staring at all three drinks in front of her, she waves her hand over them, making a show of reaching for each one. She finally reaches down, pulls out the umbrella and cherry skewer, and tosses them out of the fruity drink.

“Well, you were right about one thing, I don't order drinks with cherry swords and plastic umbrellas. I do, however, love Sex on the Beach," she says with a wink before chugging the drink and slamming it on the bar like she’s hanging with Patrick Swayze at The Roadhouse.

"Do you dance?" she asks, using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.

"Why, yes ma’am, Danika, I surely do." I reply in what can only be described as the perfect southern accent.

"Wow. That was terrible. Brett, for your sake, I hope your dancing is better than your linguistic abilities," she says, just seconds before slapping me on the ass and heading to the dance floor.

I know it is definitely too soon to be in love with this crazy woman, but I do know I'm in a shit ton of trouble.

Brett

I
SPENT
the rest of the night glued to Danika's ass. I mean that both literally and figuratively. We danced, we laughed, and best of all, we got to know each other. She was beautiful in every way possible. She told me about her dreams to become a writer, and I told her about my decision to join the police force as soon as I finished college. I bought drinks and her girlfriends made toasts to absurd things like "vibrating butt plugs" and "bisexual men everywhere." While I may have been wrong about the amount of alcohol this woman could consume, I was absolutely correct about where her evening would end.

Three hours after meeting Danika, I sat in her bathroom holding her hair while she threw up. It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever experienced. She puked until it was physically impossible for her to puke anymore. It was horrible, but I did what any man who wanted to have sex with a woman would do. I sat and stroked her hair while gagging and praying to God to keep myself from puking, too. By the time she finally finished evicting her organs into the toilet, I may have made an agreement with the powers above to name my first born Hephzibah just to make her stop.

I eventually woke up confused and hanging off the edge of an unknown bed. Opening my eyes, I immediately recognized the ocean blues of the beautiful woman standing over me.

"Hey," she says, while walking around the side of the bed to sit down next to me.

"Jesus, it's early. How are you awake after the five-star puke show you put on last night?"

"Unless you want an encore, you seriously need to shut your mouth."

"Oh God, no! I’ve been scarred enough. Do you want to get breakfast? Or did you flush your stomach down the toilet last night, along with the seventeen olives you stole from the bartender’s garnish tray?"

"He left the tray wide open. He was asking for someone to steal his olives!" she says, while trying to playfully punch me.

"Okay, okay, stop. I give up! I'm not awake enough for full contact sports."

I grab her around the waist dragging her down to lay on top of me. She freezes completely, and I realize that while we were very affectionate with each other last night, she was drunk. I have no idea how much she actually even remembers from the night before. Releasing her from my arms, I sit up taking her stiff body with me. I place her on the bed next to me and run my hands back and forth over my thighs, just to keep myself from touching her again.

"Hey, let’s start over. I'm Brett. I like football, long walks on the beach, beer, and golden retrievers. I'm terrified of scary movies, especially the ones made by Disney. I'm a Virgo, but don't worry, I act like a Pisces...or at least that is what my sisters tell me." I ramble, finishing with a closed-mouth smile, suddenly aware of our close proximity and my lack of a toothbrush.

"Well, hello Brett. Nice to meet you...again," she winks.

"So I'm guessing the wink means you remember last night?"

"Yep, I'm one of the unlucky few who never gets to forget a single drunken dance move. I’d be willing to give my first born to forget the ass I made of myself last night."

"His name will be Hephzibah," I answer matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"Nothing...just a little deal I made with The Lord last night," I mumble, dismissing the obviously bad joke with a hand gesture.

"Well, okay then," she says confused, but drops it obviously not wanting to discuss last night any longer.

I stand feeling uncomfortable still sitting on her bed, "I better get going. I'm sure you have things to do today."

"Yeah, um, okay. Do you need a ride to your car?"

"Nah, we aren't far from my place. I can just walk and catch a cab to my car later."

"No, I don't mind. Really! Just let me just get dressed," she says, just as awkwardly as I feel.

"Seriously, Danika, I can just walk. It's no big-"

"Sarah," she looks down at her feet while playing with the ends of her freshly showered hair.

"What?"

"Shit. My name. It’s Sarah." She looks embarrassed and continues to avoid my eyes.

"Sarah? Really?"

"Yeah, Danika is the fake name I use when we go out. It's just something silly the three of us do. I'm horrible at keeping up with it. It always fails. Manda or Casey yells my real name across the bar, completely blowing my cover."

"I'm guessing I know Manda and Casey better as Regina and Anastasia?"

"Yep, that would be them. They picked club names from their favorite TV shows. I tried to use Blanche Devereaux for a while, but you would be surprised by the alarming number of men who watch Golden Girls. After that, I switched to my favorite future baby’s name, Danika."

"Um okay... Sarah." I purposely over-enunciate her name, pretending to be testing it on my tongue. "I'm going to head out. I'm glad you're feeling better. You should probably take some Ibuprofen and drink a gallon of water. I'm pretty sure there is nothing left in your body from yesterday." I look around, trying to remember where I took my boots off.

"Wow, you're tall," I hear the familiar phrase from behind me.

"So you’ve mentioned."

"No, I mean you are really tall!"

"Yep, you may have said that too." I raise my eyebrows, slightly annoyed at how such an awesome night turned into such an awkward morning.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a bitch, I swear. I'm just not sure what to do in this situation." She steps towards me trying to apologize.

I sigh, stretching and scratch the back of my head, "How about you try introducing yourself with your
real
name, then make me a delicious breakfast, and point me towards your coffee maker." I smirk at her.

She pauses for a second before offering a heart-stopping smile of her own, "Hi, my name is Sarah and there is no way in hell I am cooking you breakfast. I will, however, allow you to buy me some greasy food at the corner diner. And if you are desperate for coffee, I believe there is some decaf in the kitchen. I drink it when I need something warm in the horrible winters y'all have up here."

"I accept your offer beautiful Sarah, for me to um...how did you so eloquently put it... buy you some greasy food? But I really need to ask you a few things first. One: What the hell is the point in drinking decaf? Two: Where exactly are you from that causes you to say y'all every other sentence? And most importantly, why in God's name, would you want to name a baby Danika?" I mock in horror, then smile giving it every ounce of charm I have to offer.

"Oh, because Hephzibah is so much better?" she snarks over her shoulder as she walks into her closet, presumably to get dressed.

I grab my heart feigning injury, "Touché Sarah, touché."

And just like that I start to think that maybe I was wrong, and it's not too soon to fall in love this fascinating woman after all.

Brett

"O
KAY, EXPLAIN
this to me one more time," I ask Sarah while we sit in a candy cane striped booth, in a dive restaurant a few doors down from her apartment.

Sarah gives me a long suffering sigh before repeating, "They put the bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches together wrong. So I order a fried egg, two pieces of toast, four slices of bacon, and two pieces of cheese to make my own."