She drank a large gulp of purple liquid from the boot, once again feeling the bitter and burning reminder of just how strong the drink was. "Perhaps I should get a glass of water to go with this," she said.
"No, no," Klaus said, waving his hand at her. "You don't need water. Tell you what, Camille. I will match you, drink for drink. That way, I will be just as drunk as you."
"This seems like a terrible idea," she said.
"Deal?" He extended his hand to her. His palm felt warm against hers, and his grip lingered a moment longer than it needed to.
"Deal," she said. Just to test the theory, she raised her drink and put the straw to her lips, sipping the purple drink. Klaus did the same, putting the lip of the glass to his mouth and swallowing some of the drink. "What happens to the person who loses this wager?"
"He or she has to sing a song for the other," Cami said. Oh G-d, she really hoped she wouldn't end up losing.
"So," she said, "You're a painter, you're a photographer, you're a supreme percussionist." He smiled broadly when she said this. "Any other talents I should know about?"
"Well, I don't want to toot my own horn—"
"Oh yes, the ever-humble Klaus Mikaelson," she interrupted, teasing.
"Hey, you are the one who asked, love. If you don't want to hear about how great I am…"
"Go on and tell me how great you are," she said. Although she couldn't stop the thought that crept up in her mind, I already know how great you are.
"Alright, if there will be no more interruptions." He raised an eyebrow expectantly at her to see if she would say anything else. "I used to be a very talented archer, although there's not much use for that nowadays. And I was a pretty talented equestrian before cars became popular."
"Oh really? What discipline did you do?"
"I tried my hand at them all," he said. "I did foxhunting, I raced with my friends, I did some jumping here or there."
"I used to take lessons as a child," she said. "I was pretty good, for an eight-year-old. I even got a blue ribbon once at my barn's little horse show."
"Ah, it seems you have some hidden talents too," he said.
She laughed, covering her face with her hand. Oh no, I only laugh like this when I'm tipsy, she thought. Am I tipsy? Oh my G-d oh my G-d oh my G-d. She took her hand away, the smile disappearing from her face. She tried to maintain a serious look; if she could just keep up a serious facade, maybe he wouldn't notice that she was already well on her way to being drunk. She would have to pace herself with the drink very carefully from then on, and she'd only had a quarter of it. "Well, I stopped riding when I was ten. I wanted to focus on dancing."
"Dancing," he said with surprise, his eyebrows rising. "Perhaps I'll get to see some of your skills this evening." He gestured over to the far side of the bar, where the lights were dimming. The person singing karaoke had gone out onto the floor to move tables and chairs with some other patrons, clearing the floor for more space as some Top 40 song came on over the loudspeakers throughout the bar.
They both watched for a moment, mesmerized as people began to fill the floor, dancing closely together with each other. Cami took another drink, and he matched her. "Well, I might dance…if I'm asked properly," she said.
"Camille, would you do me the honor, and let me have this dance?"
She extended her hand to him and he took it, leading her over to the area where everyone was dancing. At this point, she felt the line blur between tipsiness and drunkenness. Her brain was foggy, she was sure her cheeks were red. She moved her tongue around in her mouth; her teeth felt numb. That was always her tell. If her teeth felt numb, then she was definitely drunk. Maybe he couldn't tell yet. She prayed he couldn't tell yet. Or at least that maybe he was getting drunk too.
He spun her around once, and then brought her in close, one arm around her waist and his other hand clasping hers. They swayed back and forth as if this were an old high school dance. It took every ounce of self control in her to keep herself from resting her head on his shoulder.
The song ended and another faded into it seamlessly. She wanted to stay with him like this forever. Because even though they were surrounded by people, even though she could feel people bumping into them, hear them talking loudly, laughing, it felt like it was only the two of them. The acrid smell of stale beer from the bar faded away until the only smell that filled her nostrils was his cologne.
Cami became acutely aware that she was getting warmer by the second, that her palm felt sweaty in his, and she felt embarrassed. And as much as she loved dancing with him like this, moving slowly while the world around them was fast, she wanted him so much closer. She spun out of his embrace, moving her hips, running her hands through her hair. She closed her eyes and let the beat of the music fill her, live inside her, guide her movements.
Even with her eyes closed, she knew he was watching her intently, studying how she moved. She secretly hoped that she was impressing him. After a night all about his secret, astounding talents, she desperately wished that he would think she was talented at something too.
And then she felt him come up behind her, his hands on her hips, moving with her. It nearly knocked the breath out of her, she felt like her head was drowning in the grey smokey sky that had been in his photograph. She could barely get a breath in her, but if this is what it felt like to have his body this close to hers, she never wanted to breathe again.
She wished desperately that she hadn't worn such a tight dress or such high heels, they were making it harder to dance. But to be fair, she'd had no idea that they would end up here, dancing like this. Somehow she doubted it would be too difficult for her to manage.
Songs faded one into another, and she was losing track of time. She was losing track of everything. How long had they been dancing? How much had she drunk? Did she even know the name of the bar they were in? Everything felt so confusing, like the room was spinning and she didn't even know who she was, but she felt so safe with him.
The thought struck her and she felt herself regaining her senses. Safe with Klaus Mikaelson, the smartest, the strongest, the baddest? She was sure no one had ever thought of him as safe company before. So she couldn't tell if that meant that she was special, or just that she was losing her mind. And that scared her.
Closing her eyes, she focused again on the beat of the music, the rhythm of his hips moving with hers. She felt a tug on her waist as he spun her around in his arms so they were face to face. Her arms naturally found their way to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck. She looked down, watching the way their two bodies moved together, the natural rhythm that happened so effortlessly between them.
When she looked up again, he caught her gaze, his eyes burning into her. Subconsciously, her lips parted; he was so, so close, and it would be so easy. It would be so easy to just close that infinitesimal distance between them, to do what she'd wanted to do for a long time now, to kiss him. And maybe if she was lucky, he would kiss her back.
He was the first to break eye contact, but only for a fraction of a second, only to glance down at her lips. She willed herself to do it. Just grab his stupid face and kiss him! her head screamed at her.
A cold draft hit her body as he stepped away suddenly, looking at the floor. "I need another drink," he said. And then suddenly he was all the way across the room at the bar, taking a long swig from the boot.
She felt her own buzz beginning to wear off but gave him a minute to himself. Besides, her skin was breaking out into goosebumps— a result from the lack of warmth of his body up against her— she wanted to take a moment to at least get rid of those before she went over to him.
When she approached him at the bar, she couldn't think of anything to say, so she just took another drink from her own boot. As the liquid traveled down her throat and hit her stomach, she heard and felt an embarrassing rumble that she was sure he noticed. She hadn't really eaten much that day, the nerves making her stomach uneasy. Perhaps that was why the alcohol was hitting her so hard. But she needed food, and soon.
"Hungry?" Klaus said.
"Famished. And I know just the place to go."
"Do tell."
"It's a surprise," she said. "You'll see when we get there."
"I'm a bit frightened," he said.
"You'll live."
He laughed and she felt her knees buckle a little. His smile just made her feel like melting into a puddle on the floor. He took one last long drink from his boot, looking at her expectantly. She remembered then that as per their deal, she was supposed to be matching him, so she too raised the boot-shaped glass to her lips.
Now that she was a little drunk, the strong liquid tasted slightly less foul, but it was still difficult to take drinks as big as his. He set his glass on the bar, and she gratefully did the same.
Outside, the night air was refreshing and alive. The street was buzzing with voices, people talking and laughing, street musicians playing trumpets and saxophones, a few street performers doing magic tricks for easily-impressed drunk folks. "I love the city at night," she said with a sigh. "It just feels so…"
"Alive," he filled in.
"And to think that you built it from the ground up," she said, suddenly letting that sink in for a minute. How could someone so terrible, so evil and monstrous, possibly have built a city as magical and captivating as New Orleans? Once again, she could not reconcile the Klaus that everyone warned her about with the one she saw before her.
"Careful, love. I've already got a massive ego, no need to add to it."
They walked together down the street, walking close together but not touching. I have to be strong, I will not take his hand unless he takes mine first.
After a few blocks, Klaus asked again, "Where exactly are we going?"
"You'll see," she repeated. "Be patient. It's just a few more blocks. But for now enjoy the journey." She gestured around her, taking in the sights and sounds of New Orleans at night. Even though the different jazz musicians out and about were playing conflicting songs, it still sounded beautiful. She loved that, when two things that didn't seem to go together could still make a new kind of sound, a new kind of art.
At the end of the street, she tugged on his shirt sleeve. "This way," she said, turning right onto a small side street. They walked to the end of the block. When she stopped it was so sudden, that he kept walking a few steps past her. She stared at the facade of the building, a smile creeping onto her face.
"Paco's Tacos," he read the sign on the door.
"Yep," she said, smiling proudly. "This is it!"
He seemed hesitant, and his hesitation wasn't entirely unfounded, she acknowledged. Paco's wasn't exactly a classy establishment. It was a place where drunk kids went after midnight to get cheap and fast food because most everywhere else was closed. It wasn't somewhere a person would go if they had other options, or if they were sober.
He opened the door and held it for her as she went inside and joined the rapidly growing line of college kids. Most of them were just making a pit stop in between house parties and bar hopping, so they were taking their orders to go.
"What's good here?" Klaus asked, looking up at the menu boards behind the counter.
"Almost nothing," she said.
He laughed at this, but she hoped he realized that she was being serious. It was lucky that she'd had more of her boot drink before they left, because if she hadn't she certainly would not be drunk enough to endure a taco from this place. "Just stick with chicken," she advised.
After fifteen minutes, they had finally reached the registers. The ever-growing line was slowly dwindling as people went about their drunken nights feeling better now that they'd eaten. "Two chicken tacos, please," she said.
When she handed over the cash she owed, Klaus put up a hand in protest, intending to pay himself. "Save it, Casanova. I'm a woman of the modern age," she said with a smile. She got her change and they went to sit down at one of the rundown tables.
The charm of the place was in how decrepit it was. While some of the tables had proper chairs, some were mixed in with plastic ones that a person might buy for three dollars at Target. The table surfaces themselves were filthy, but no one seemed to notice or care. When Klaus sat down, he tried and failed to mask a look of slight disdain. "How quaint," he said.
"Oh come on," she teased, "loosen up a little. This is part of the atmosphere."
"Exposing myself to a variety of communicable diseases is atmosphere?"
She gave him a deadpan look. "You're immortal, remember? I highly doubt you could catch anything."
"You're right, I suppose I'll live. But I might suffer in the process."
"Just eat."
She watched intently as he took the first bite of his taco, trying to gauge his reaction. He set it down, raising an eyebrow. After he had chewed and swallowed, he said, "It's not terrible."
"See?" she said with a smile. "Would I lead you astray?"
"I don't know, Camille. You tend to be full of surprises."
She blushed and looked away when he said this, trying and failing to focus on her food. She loved when he said offhand compliments like that, so subtle yet so sincere.
"So what made you choose here, of all places?" he said.
"I used to come here all the time when I was still in college. I'm actually having deja vu like crazy right now, just remembering all the nights I came here with my friends or my roommates, all the shenanigans we got into on those nights."
"Like Halloween 2011?"
She laughed. "Yes, like Halloween 2011."
"And so far are you feeling like the night will end slightly better than that incident?" he asked.
"I'm doing alright, a bit drunk," she admitted, "but still functional." That last slug of the drink from the boot was settling in nicely now, making the taste of the mediocre tacos more tolerable. "And how about yourself?"
"Oh, I'm doing just fine, love. Just intoxicated enough to make these vile excuses for tacos edible."
She laughed again. "Don't be mean about Paco's. It's the quintessential college drunk food experience."
"Perhaps that's why I don't particularly enjoy it," Klaus said. "Considering I've never been to college."
Cami was surprised to hear this. She had sort of assumed that, and she knew that he'd never gone to college somewhere in the back of her mind, but she'd never really given it too much thought. It made her kind of sad that he'd missed out on a lot of experiences that some people considered essential to growing up.
"Well, fine then, Mr. Picky Pants, is there somewhere else you'd like to go?"
He smiled wickedly and she felt her stomach drop into her feet. "Why, yes, in fact there is."