Two hours later, Xander and I were doubled over in laughter. I didn't realize how funny he was until now. Of course, I could be blaming the alcohol blazing its way through me. I tend to get giggly after a few drinks. Or six. Or possibly seven. I lost count.
Xander dug into his pockets and pulled out some coins.
"I'm going to play you a song," he muttered, and headed towards the jukebox. I lost him in the crowd, and slumped over sleepily onto the edge of the bar. Within moments, the song changed and Xander still hadn't returned.
But I knew this song. I always thought it had such a romantic opening. And Brian Eno secretly made me gush.
Roxy Music is very sacred to Xander, I knew this for a fact. Although, I never understood it. He always saved it for special occassions and mixed tapes he made that he always labeled 'Romantic' and hid in inconspicuous places. The guy sure knows how to hide his feelings. Literally.
He returned, with a hidden look of being pleased with himself and outstretched his hand. I was drunk enough not to care anymore so I replaced my drink with his warm hand and he put one arm around me and began to slowly dance with me over towards the jukebox.
I smiled down at the floor, embarrassed. What were we doing? I looked up, and he looked down at the floor. It was a perpetual game of cat and mouse between our gazes.
I felt comfortable, and slightly brave, so I moved in closer, resting my head on his shoulder, mostly because I was too dizzy to stand on my own, and partly because it didn't exactly feel that terrible. He was warm, and I could feel his chest move up and down every time he inhaled and exhaled.
When the song ended, he looked me in the eye and frowned.
"I should probably take you home, you looked as far gone as I do," he smirked. I nodded sleepily, and he guided me to the door and wrapped his jacket around my bare shoulders.