five.2 （Bonus） #3
"I don't usually get repeat customers this fast," she said. "Especially not from bachelor parties."
"I wasn't with the party," I told her, shifting an arm over the couch back. "Just knew the groom."
"So you were just there for the free liquor and bad decisions?"
I kept my expression calm. "No." Beat. "Well, I guess you could say that."
She laughed-genuine. Not the forced kind I'd seen earlier that night. "You always talk like this?"
"I don't get what you mean."
Her eyes lingered on me, studying me. I could feel the question behind them. She was trying to read me, and she wasn't wrong-I was nervous. I just knew how to bury it under a clipped tone.
"Ignore me," she said, then gestured to the speaker. "You have me for a little while. Any song you want?"
I tilted my head, considering. "Do we have to start with that?"
She blinked. "With the dance?"
"With the routine," I said. "The... lines."
Her smile shifted-slower now. "You want something more authentic?"
"I want to talk to you."
"You want to talk?"
"If you're offering."
Her laugh was softer this time. "People usually pay extra for conversation."
"I would."
I could feel her watching me as the silence thickened. She didn't sit right away. I liked that-it meant she wasn't folding into my pace; she was setting her own.
"Come on. I'm working," she teased, but I could hear the give in her voice.
I didn't respond. Instead, I reached into my coat pocket and placed the folded stack of hundreds on the table. No show. No comments. Just an offer.
Her eyes dropped to it. "That was a joke," she said. "About paying for conversation."
"It's for your time," I said. "However you want to spend it."
Something flickered in her expression, but she didn't touch the money. She turned down the volume and sat-not too close, but close enough that I could catch the subtle scent of her perfume.
"You've got my attention, Mr. Not-Here-for-the-Party."
"Brooks," I said. "Just Brooks."
She raised a brow. "Alright, Brooks. If you didn't come here for the dance..." She let it hang before asking, "What are you doing here?"
I let the question sit. I didn't want to answer too quickly.
"You chasing something?" she pressed.
"A feeling," I said.
"What kind of feeling?"
I could have told her, but I didn't. Not yet.
She guessed anyway. "Let me guess. Something you thought you saw in me?"
I nodded once.
She warned me about men confusing that feeling for lust or escape.
"I'm not confused."
"Mm. You sure?"
My jaw tightened. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of thinking she'd rattled me.
"So," she asked, "Is this your thing?"
"I told you," I said. "I don't come to places like this often."
"And yet... here you are."
"And here you are," I countered.
She let that one sit. Then: "You're not gonna ask for my name again?"
"No," I said. "Not tonight."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll tell me when you want to. Or you won't."
I meant it. I could see in her eyes that she caught that.
She stood, went to the table, thumbed through the money. "Most guys ask for a lot more for a lot less."
"Then I guess I'm not most guys."
She looked at me for a long beat before asking, "What's on your mind?"
"I don't know," I said honestly.
"Bad answer."
"It's the only honest one I've got."
"So you were just drawn to me and that's why you're back?"
"Something like that."
"You know how that sounds, right?"
"Obsessive?"
"Worse," she said. "Bored."
That one landed sharper than I expected. She talked about men like me picking something shiny when we're tired of our lives.
"That what you think I'm doing?"
"I think you don't know what you're doing," she said. "And you're hoping I make it feel like a decision."
Her words stuck. I didn't want them to, but they did.
"I'm not a collector's item," she added.
"Fair."
"You think I don't see you," I said.
"You see a version of me," she replied. "And that's all you're looking for."
"Is it wrong to want to understand the person behind what everyone else sees?"
"No," she said. "But it's na?ve to think she wants to be understood by you."
My jaw ticked. She wasn't wrong, but I didn't like hearing it.
"Alright," I said. "What would it take?"
"I don't need saving, Brooks. I need people to stop pretending like I'm a mystery to solve."
I let the silence stretch. There was more truth between us now than when she walked in.
"I didn't mean to cross a line," I said.
"You didn't," she replied. "You're just not the first man to mistake his intimacy for interest."
She moved toward the door. I didn't try to stop her.
"I'm not mad you came back," she said. "I just don't think you know what you're chasing."
That one stuck too.
"You think you want me," she added, "but you don't see me yet. Not really."
I didn't have an answer.
"You seem like someone who's used to getting what he wants. But I'm not something you get."
And then she was gone, heels fading down the hall, leaving me alone with my drink, the money still sitting untouched between us, and a pull I couldn't name.