One More Night

Anna had pointed out the two redheads as soon as they’d walked into the bar. The two blondes that had arrived with them were just as attractive, but for some reason these two had stood out to them. The one with the missing tooth seemed happy and excited to be there, with a huge grin on his face; the other seemed like this was the last place on earth he wanted to be. For some ridiculous reason that had caught Bree’s attention, but she stayed at Anna’s side, grabbing a seat at the bar where they could talk and people watch.

She’d stolen more than one glance at the two of them throughout the night. The blondes had mingled throughout the bar, but the two redheads had stuck together. The one with the missing tooth only left their table occasionally to get more drinks, and once for mozza sticks and wings. Anna had teased her about watching the two of them, but she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off of them.

So when they’d walked over and asked her and Anna to dance, Bree had been surprised, to say the least.

Now she found herself swaying – not dancing – with Marc, who now looked a lot happier than he had while sitting with Jared earlier. His arms were tight around her, and when he’d moved in close to avoid a collision hadn’t resumed his former, friendly distance with her. Not that she particularly minded; he was handsome, with a warm smile and kind eyes, even though there was something lurking in the hazel depths. Nothing that made her afraid of him, but something that would more than likely explain his earlier melancholy mood.

“So, what’s New York like?” she asked, and he laughed before raising an eyebrow playfully.

“You lived in Toronto, it can’t be all that different,” he teased, making her laugh and swat at his bicep. Marc’s entire body was rock hard; he definitely went to the gym on a regular basis. Every part of him was muscled; his arms, chest, his abs, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice those legs and ass either.

“I’ve always wanted to see New York; to watch a concert at Madison Square garden, see a Broadway show, stand in the middle of Times Square… you know, the cheesy things,” she blushed a little, suddenly embarrassed with her admission. Marc lived there most of the year; all of this must seem so trivial to him, seeing as all of these things were part of his every day life.

“I know what you mean – I did all those things when I first moved there too – went and saw the Statue of Liberty too,” that easy grin made her feel comfortable once again as he leaned in slightly so she could hear him over the loud country song.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I even took the subway to the first Rangers game I was there for… that I could’ve lived without,” he chuckled, making her laugh and let her guard down just a little more. There was something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on, that made him almost too good to be true, but Bree shook off her thoughts, instead choosing to rest her head against his chest as they swayed back and forth.

“Hey… do you happen to see Jared anywhere?” Marc asked a few songs later, and she looked up and around for Marc’s redheaded brother.

“No… he wouldn’t have left with Anna, would he?” she asked, biting her lip. Anna and Mike were on-again-off-again, and while Bree couldn’t keep up with them she knew Anna would regret anything happening with anybody who wasn’t Mike.

“No, he wouldn’t – he has a serious girlfriend,” Marc immediately dismissed the idea, and Bree relaxed into him when she saw Anna talking to a few other girls at a table tucked into the corner. Marc noticed her reaction, wrapping his arms around her just a little tighter, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath, reminding her just how intoxicated he actually was. As strange as it was it gave her a little comfort – people were brutally honest when they had some drinks in their system – so she knew Marc wasn’t giving her any bullshit story about being in New York or anything like that.
“Was he your ride home?” she asked, and Marc shrugged.

“The four of us came together, but I guess I can just get a taxi or something… I don’t see Jordan or Eric either,” he explained. Bree felt bad immediately, especially if she thought she was the reason that Marc was stuck at the bar.

“You can stay at my place,” she blurted, catching them both by surprise. Marc’s eyes were wide, his mouth open slightly.

“I… you don’t have to do that,”

“I, well, my couch pulls out… and um, then one of your brothers can pick you up instead of paying for a cab,” she stuttered and stumbled over her response, feeling ridiculous for having said anything and making the offer in the first place.

“Really Bree, that’s nice of you, but I’m a stranger, and I don’t want to be a pain,” he shook his head, only letting up when she insisted it wouldn’t be a problem.

With that they left the bar, Marc wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they walked the three and a half blocks to her apartment. He followed her up without a word, and helped her pull out the couch and make the bed before they both collapsed onto it yawning.

“I’m not quite ready to go to bed,” she realized minutes later as they watched TV. Marc laughed, his arm around her shoulders and his fingertips trailing up and down her arm.

“Me either,” he agreed, and they laughed a little more. She retrieved a bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard, and offered it to him. Marc took the bottle, unscrewing the top and taking a swig out of it. He made a face and shook his head to get rid of the burn, making Bree laugh a little as he passed the twenty-four back to her.

“I definitely sobered up,” he announced, and watched in awe as she took a swallow, not giving any signs of feeling the burning affect of the liquor. She began to chuckle at the expression on his face, sitting down on the couch beside him.

“I was a bartender for a while,” she explained, handing it back. He nodded and tipped the bottle to her before tipping it back once more as they settled in to watch more TV.

They finished the entire bottle, both of them back to their earlier states of intoxication; having a loud, random conversation that really held no point but managed to captivate the both of them. Marc told her some ridiculous story about his brothers, and she countered with a crazy story of her and her brother back in Toronto. He’d slipped an arm around her during their conversation too; Bree’s back pressed against his chest as she looked up at him to speak.

Back and forth the tales went, each one crazier than the last. It wasn’t until about ten or fifteen minutes later that Bree realized they were no longer sitting on the couch; they were laying curled up together, Marc’s strong arms wrapped tight around her, her head tucked beneath his chin. As surprising as she found the gesture, she enjoyed it too much to move or say a word.

She looked up, about to call Marc on a bullshit story – she was sure he was making it up as he went along, judging from his grin – and was instead met with his soft lips pressed to hers. Her eyes widened in surprise, before she all but melted into him. He wasn’t pushy, he wasn’t forceful; if anything it was one of the sweetest kisses she’d ever had. Tasted like whiskey, but aside from that, it was all Marc.

And Marc, she decided, was something that she wanted.