Chapter 1 #2
“Well, all right. Let’s see.” I pretended to survey the room with the air of a dissatisfied art critic.
“Black tee with the cartoon sleeve is a candidate, but don’t expect a reach-around.
Or the blond guy at the far end of the bar—he’s got rhythm.
Looks like he rehearses in front of a mirror, though.
All in all…” I sipped. “Four out of ten, would not shortlist as clients.”
Jesse laughed, head tipping back slightly so the light behind the bar washed his throat in blue and green. “Harsh.”
“But do you disagree?”
He shrugged. “Honestly, wasn’t really looking. Just needed a drink and some company without having to actually talk to anyone.”
I studied him for a beat, the heavy bass line sliding around us. “Bad day?”
“Nah, just long.”
“Ah, yeah—I know all about those.” I wrapped it in innuendo, as if I meant sex marathons when it was really more showing up before sunrise to check on patients I couldn’t treat, trailing actual doctors like a very tired ghost.
He tilted his head, watching me for a half-second, before a grin cracked through. “Well, I’m disappointed.”
The curl of his mouth made it more dare than complaint, so I matched his playful air. “Because…?”
“I’d expected at least a token invitation to make me forget all about it.”
“Nah.” I dipped my chin, smiling at him from underneath my lashes. “Too easy.”
“Really.” He delivered it in a deadpan drawl, a challenge still tucked underneath if you listened closely. I did.
All right, then. I leaned in, close enough to catch a whiff of his woody cologne, and let my lips brush the hollow beneath his ear.
My voice pitched to rival his bourbon—smoke over embers.
“I wouldn’t make you forget your day, Jesse.
” A fraction of shy hesitation that I hoped passed for a calculated pause.
“I’d make you forget your name and what year it is. ”
Too much? Maybe. God, I wasn’t sure—had never done anything like this before. But the way he swallowed and turned his head to look at me for a long breath, as if measuring the truth of my words… My pulse jumped even as I let a smirk flirt around the edges of my expression.
Jesse’s nod was like a slow, private concession. “Yeah, okay. I can definitely see it.”
“See what?”
He smiled. “Why there’d be a waitlist.”
Fun fact: My last boyfriend wouldn’t drive four hours.
I crushed the thought and smiled back. “For you, I’d make an exception.”
“Skip the waitlist and agent?” His voice was a murmur that only just translated over the music, eyes dancing with something that seemed halfway between challenge and intrigue.
“And the reference. Consider this a personal invitation.”
Okay, what the hell was I even doing? How far did I want to stretch this mask before it snapped? But then again, why not? This was just… a game. Just a game, no harm done, especially since I could tell that Jesse wasn’t entirely sold, still trying to figure out my hand.
New city, new me.
“I’m flattered,” he said with a dramatic swish of his hand.
“You should be.”
The bar noise dropped to a steady pulse as we watched each other. Flashing lights threw shifting patterns across his face, attention focused on me with a weight that was almost addicting.
And then a glass crashed somewhere behind us. I shot around just as people shied away from the damage, sticky liquor spilling across the floor, shouts and laughter, the guy who’d dropped the drink cursing up a storm. The world rewound to its regular speed.
Jesse’s gaze returned to me after a second, shifting on his bar stool. “You know,” he said, “I’ve never actually done this. Talked to a…” He stopped, frowned as if confused. “You know.”
Hey, that made two of us.
I let my lips quirk. “If you can’t say it, you probably shouldn’t, well—do it.”
His chuckle was quiet, eyes warm. “You’re a little bit of a dick, huh?”
“Only when I’m off the clock.” I let half a beat pass, then raised my hands to measure a sizable gap between them. “Otherwise I’m a big dick.”
He laughed, full and delighted in a way that sparked a bright echo in my chest. “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“Kinda,” I agreed, grinning.
The moment spiraled out between us like a ripple in water, softening into something almost wistful. He glanced at his drink, only just a few sips left, and then at mine, still half-full. “Another?”
I tilted my glass, lazy trails of mezcal clinging to the inside as if it refused to be rushed. Same. “On you?”
“Naturally.”
“Then yes,” I said, true to this character I was playing.
It wasn’t a perfect fit, nothing quite like my silken shirt, but God, this was the most fun I’d had in a while.
Yeah, that was probably a red flag. I filed it away as something to unpack at some point between tomorrow and never.
“Make it two of what you’re having, please. ”
His answering smile was slow and confident, maybe even a little hungry. While the bartender poured, I felt the room shrink to the span of wood between us, music and voices receding like the tidal ebb of water.
Two mezcal Negronis kissed the counter. Nice. Jesse paid without ever looking away from me.
The bar spit us out into a neon street. It must have rained in the last hour, the concrete glimmering with puddles that reflected the multihued glow of bar signs and ads. Humidity hung thick like a blanket, distant music nudging through the steady hum of traffic, even at this hour.
Up close, Jesse smelled faintly of bourbon and cedar. His shoulder brushed mine as we paused under the awning, people drifting past us in scattered groups, no one sparing us more than a fleeting glance. Somehow, it felt more private than a forest path back home.
“So.” He let the word hang between us like a full sentence.
“So,” I echoed, and for a beat, we simply inhaled the same damp air. His mouth parted for words he roped back in, the city tugging at our sleeves. Opposite ways?
I should end it here. Say thanks for the drink, flash a smile, and let the night dissolve into what-ifs because this wasn’t me, not really. Better bow out now, walk away before I tripped.
Instead, I stepped right into his space, cupped the back of his neck—and kissed him.