Bad Case of Loving You

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“Hey, Mattie!” someone shouted across the crowded bar. I waved a hand at the group of familiar faces, but kept on pushing my way through the crowd.

It was a good night; the bar was packed and loud, music booming down the far end, lights strobing in time with the music, but I wasn’t there to dance, either. This was my last night of freedom before classes started again, my last chance before the final semester of my medical degree to get really, thoroughly laid, and I didn’t plan to go home alone.

There were some hot guys there. I bought a lager and found a place near the dance floor to have a really good look around. I was wearing my cuff, just to make sure whoever I picked up knew.

It took a little bit of time, and I shook my head at a couple of the men who cruised past me, but the man with the goatee caught my fancy, and when he brushed past, I snaked my hand out and caught his wrist.

This was the test. If he pulled away and scowled at me, then he wasn’t right.

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