They had been waiting for a good thirty minutes already. It was cold outside; the nights here always were. She looked at him, suddenly feeling the need talk. She didn’t talk much, usually, and he had come to accept that. The silent ones are often those who have most to share, they say. It might be a silly thing to believe, but it wasn’t the only silly thing he believed.

“You know, this is stupid.” She said.

He glanced at her in surprise. It was hard to tell whether the surprise came from the fact that she just said something, or if it was directed at what she said.

“What is?” He asked, an amused smile now upon his lips.

“All of this, what I’m doing now, what all of these people are doing.” She pointed at all the people waiting around them, in line.

He laughed now. She was drunk, and although she seemed to be more in control than most people would be, it showed, in the tone of her voice.

“No, it’s true,” she continued, as to explain him what she meant, “I mean, we drink, and we know it makes us do stupid things, but we drink anyway!”

He laughed again; she looked so distraught by something so simple that it was comical.

“Why did you drink, then?” The irony in his question was obvious, but she missed it.

“Because I’m too rational all the time. I don’t want to be.”

She sounded awfully serious for someone about to enter a nightclub. He liked it, though. The conversation was already more meaningful than anything they had talked about since they met each other.

“I know that this is stupid, but sometimes stupid is good.” She was staring at him with an intensity he had never felt in her before. “If I don’t drink, I know I won’t do what I want to do, and as long as I know that I can control it, I want to be able to do all these things.”

Her eyes were locked onto his, making him shiver a little bit. It wasn’t the cold; he wasn’t the type to feel cold easily. The amused twist still on his lips, he took a moment to gather his thoughts:

“And you know you can control it?”

“Yes,” she answered instantly, like the question was absurd, “I know what I’m doing, always, and I know that I am only doing what I want to do.”

Something in the confidence she spoke with made him believe her. He had had many conversations with drunk people before, but for some reason, he trusted what she was saying now more than anything she had told him previously.

“What do you want to do, then?”

She laughed, looking at the entrance of the club. There were only a few more people ahead of them, they’d be in in five minutes, at best. He hated that sight, because he knew that whatever connection he felt with her in this moment would be lost as soon as they would cross the doormat.

“I wanna dance!”

That wasn’t what he was asking, and she knew that very well, but she had no better reply. It made him laugh one more time, though. He had seen her dance before; she was good, but above all, she looked alive when she did. She wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

As the three people ahead of them disappeared in the entrance, they got in front of the bouncer. He showed his ID as she took hers out of her purse. A second later, they were invited to enter. Right before she could take that last step, though, he gently grabbed her arm to pull her towards him. Reaching out for the back of her neck with his free hand, he placed his lips next to her ear, and whispered:

“I never thought I’d say this to anyone, ever, but I think I like you better when you’re drunk.”

She gave him a look of amazement, then started laughing. It was a clear, refreshing laugh; the last thing he heard before the overwhelming music filled his ears, cutting him off from everything he had just gained. Still laughing, she took his hand, guiding his straight towards the dancefloor.

All he would remember from that night, though, was the wait with her, their short but intense conversation, and every little piece of her she trusted him with. Everything beyond feeling her hand grabbing his got lost, not because it wasn’t good, but because none of it mattered anymore…