The club is bathed in revolving disco lights so all I can see is a man seated on the far end of the room looking at us. I rub my eyes repeatedly, but he remains in the shadows. Perhaps I'm already wasted, but NO! I just had a few shots and I’m sure the alcohol content in my system hasn’t worn me out.
Yet.
I stage whisper an over the air 'thank you,' my voice barely audible over the blasting music. The stranger nods, affirming my gesture. I can't see him well from where I'm seated and there's really no need to torture my eyes. He just bought a drink; people buy us drinks all the time so it's no big deal.
"Moet?” Amy asks in disbelief, looking from me to the stranger and back to the chilled champagne bottle.
“A guy with a fetish for expensive liquor.” I say while rolling my eyes.
“I bet
