Until I Saw Your Smile Read Online Free PDF Page A

donor.”
    â€œYes,” Matthew said. “I’m leaving all my organs and my eyes to someone who needs them when I die.”
    â€œBut won’t you need them?” Monique asked.
    Wow. Is she trying to be funny ? Her eyes are serious. “Yes. Now. I need them now.”
    â€œSo why are you a donor?” she asked.
    Oh boy. I need to go inside so I can stop talking and she can stop trying to think. “Are you ready to get your dance on?”
    Monique shook her head. “Get my dance on? You’re so old-fashioned.”
    â€œI guess I am.”
    â€œNo one says that anymore, Matty,” Monique said, handing her ID to the guy at the door.
    â€œOkay, how about . . .” Keep it simple. “Are you ready to dance?”
    Monique smiled. “You know it.”
    Matthew handed his ID to the guy. “Still no cover charge?” The guy nodded and handed his card back.
    Monique grasped Matthew’s arm, and in they went as DJ Full Time Fun was playing a reggae song that had the crowd bobbing and Matthew’s ears ringing.
    One hundred twenty decibels at least. It’s as loud as the subway in here. I hope he plays some old-school hip-hop and R&B tonight. Those don’t seem as loud for some reason. And I hope I don’t have to use the unisex bathrooms. It’s extremely disconcerting to open your stall door and face a woman waiting for her turn.
    â€œThere aren’t any places to sit!” Matthew yelled.
    â€œWhat?” Monique shouted. “I’m thirsty!”
    Monique dragged him straight to the bar, where Matthew wasted thirteen bucks on a gin and tonic and a Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout, as green lights flashed and glowed, giving the place a post-Christmas and pre-St. Patrick’s Day feel.
    Notorious B.I.G.’s “Juicy” thundered from the speakers, and Monique raced to the packed dance floor, leaving Matthew to bob and weave his way next to her.
    I will not talk much here. Therefore, Monique will smile at me often. I’d have to put my tongue in her ear for her to hear me anyway.
    He looked up. Such low ceilings. This is more a cave than a cove. If you throw your hands in the air and wave ’em like you just don’t care, you could chip your nails, bruise your knuckles, or dislocate your fingers.
    Monique gyrated and writhed, sweat beading on her forehead, her gin and tonic high in the air.
    And she hasn’t spilled a single drop. She obviously has her priorities in order.
    Within a few minutes, Monique was only a flash of bare midriff and some tight jeans three dancers away.
    She has forgotten that I exist in the span of one song while I’m bathing in other people’s sweat. Hey! Watch the toes! Is that a man or a woman? Or both? Matthew took a closer look. Or neither? Is that being even human?
    He saw Monique’s hands waving in the air, no sign of her drink. She needs to hydrate more during the day. There’s a guy a millimeter from her booty. Flavor Flav? Here?
    I am getting too old for this scene.
    Matthew wormed closer to Monique as the song changed.
    No, no! Not Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away”! This is Joy music. If they play Britney Spears’s “I Wanna Go,” I’m leaving.
    He stood next to Monique and shouted in her ear. “Such a cheesy song, huh?”
    â€œThis is my song, Matty!” She grabbed his hands. “Dance with me!”
    To this?
    Monique put his hands on her hips.
    Well, maybe it’s not such a bad song. Look at her hips go. My hands are getting dizzy. They’ll be buzzing for days.
    Matthew looked around at the other dancers. Most were doing no more than wiggling and writhing in place. Hung-over and high hipsters, some wearing the Samurai “Man Bun,” shook themselves near tanked bankers and hot ripped vixens in ripped jeans. Some gin-sipping gay and straight fashion divas of both sexes bumped elbows with thugs armed with beer bottles