#Tru to da game book free#

Laura tries hard to match Tracy’s moves, but her own slightly heavier body makes her want to hide more than stand out. Tracy is a great dancer, no self-consciousness, just pure movement. At 5 feet, I still manage to take up a lot of dance floor though and soon we're screaming along with every other girl to 'I will survive,' a remix, but still a good mood changer.

#Tru to da game book free#

I'm not a great dancer.a little too free with the jumping up and down to really get a groove thing going. Let's dance…and not with the dynamic duo!' Putting my oh-so-pink drink down on a ledge, I push both Tracy and Laura back onto the floor.

Won't let this night go without a fight! 'Come on. Nope…I won't allow myself to wallow in this feeling. Maybe the stress of feeling lonely in a crowded room…again. Maybe the stress of my folks visiting next week. I usually enjoy nights out like eedom to let loose, drink a little too much, maybe meet a guy or two, and dance with my friends like it's an Olympic event. They offered to let us sit at their table and buy us drinks and be groped while dancing.

Seems the drunk brothers are VIP's and have a table behind the roped-off section behind us. Laura and Tracy quickly join me, sharing the blow-by-blow I missed during my trip to the bar. I pass them to the steps just to the side of the dance floor. Tracy is pushed against the opposite wall and staying out of the way of Brother #1's gyrating arms Laura is laughing more than dancing, holding her sides while sidestepping Brother #2's feet. I came out tonight with my friends, Tracy and Laura, who are now trying to dance with what looks like brothers, really drunk brothers. Looks like tonight is going downhill fast. I quietly say, 'Thanks,' and turn around. It distracts me, disarms me in the middle of this pulsing people-pushing place to have his scent fill my nose like that. I can smell a hint of his cologne like his hands, a surprising mix, musky spices and clean linens. 'Sorry, watered-down vodka's all you're going to get.' His smile goes up a little on the left and he leans in again. Hard to sound demanding with a high voice, but I'm trying for a strong look to go with it. Say something already! 'I'd like the drink I ordered…please.' His crinkly-eyed smile is almost a laugh, probably because my voice squeaked at that last bit. This one's on me though.vodka cran,' his voice is deep, no accent, must be from here, born and bred Midwesterner. This isn't mine,' as I push the drink towards him, really getting a good look at his hands and arms for the first time.olive skin, lean muscles and surprisingly manicured nails. He returns with a drink that is definitely not bourbon – it's pink. Hot Bartender! I need to stop talking to myself like this, I just laughed out loud for fuck sake. Damn right it's a big girl drink, so there Mr. And I think it makes me sound sophisticated and ually the finance and computer geeks in these clubs are impressed anyway. My drink of choice when it's Saturday and I have no plans the next day. I like bourbon, it warms a spot that needs warming. The bartender leans in over the drink-soaked bar like he didn't hear me, 'That's a big order for such a little girl.' Before I can respond, I don't think the dumb open-mouthed look is sufficient, he's turned away. 'Can I get a Knob Creek neat?' trying to keep my voice from breaking after being at the club for awhile, too much dancing and yelling to be heard over the thumping music and people.