5. The Reveal
The Reveal
I should have walked away. That would have been the smart thing to do, the normal thing to do.
A forty-three-year-old engaged woman probably shouldn't be sitting in a nightclub talking to an attractive stranger while her sister is somewhere in the building making highly questionable life choices.
And yet, here I was. Talking, laughing, and enjoying myself.
Tyler pulled out the empty chair across from me and sat down, making it clear that neither of us was in any particular hurry to end the conversation.
"So," he said, leaning forward, "let me guess."
I immediately became suspicious. "That's never a good way to start a sentence."
He laughed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, the kind of eyes that always looked like they were hiding a private joke. "What do you do?"
"Guess."
He studied me for a moment before offering his first verdict. "Dentist."
I nearly choked on my drink. "Dentist?"
"You seem responsible."
I laughed, setting my glass down. "Responsible people become dentists?"
"Or accountants." He laughed again, and the sound was becoming dangerously familiar. I liked it far more than I should have.
"Okay," he said, resetting his gaze. "Not a dentist."
"Definitely not."
"Hmm." He studied me again, and suddenly I became hyper-aware of how close he was, how much attention he was paying, and how focused his gaze seemed. "You work with people."
I blinked. "That's surprisingly specific."
"I can tell."
"Oh?"
"You listen before you talk."
The answer caught me entirely off guard because it was true. I did. Most people didn't notice that about me, but Tyler did.
"You also have a very patient face," he added.
I laughed. "I don't know what that means."
"It means people probably tell you things."
My smile faded slightly at how perceptive he was. "Actually..."
His eyebrows lifted.
I sighed, giving in. "I'm a librarian."
For a moment, he stared at me. Then he smiled, a genuine, real smile. It wasn't polite or forced. "That's awesome."
I blinked. That was not the reaction I usually received. Usually, people responded with 'Do libraries still exist?' or 'That must be quiet,' or the classic, 'I haven't read a book in years.' But Tyler looked genuinely excited.
"You think being a librarian is awesome?" I asked.
"Absolutely."
I laughed. "You're weird."
"Probably." His smile didn't fade in the slightest. "What's your favorite book?"
The question came instantly. No hesitation, no small talk, no pretending. My pulse skipped unexpectedly because nobody ever asked me that, not really, and certainly not unless they loved books too.
I leaned back in my chair. "That's impossible."
"Nope."
"Absolutely impossible."
"You have to choose."
"That's cruel."
"Life is hard."
I narrowed my eyes at him. He looked far too pleased with himself. "Fine." I thought about it for a second, then smiled. "To Kill a Mockingbird."
His expression softened. "Good choice."
"Good choice? You're judging me."
"Obviously."
I laughed. "Okay, your turn."
He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ohh, this is complicated."
"You started this."
"Probably The Great Gatsby."
My eyebrows lifted. "Seriously?"
"What?"
"I wasn't expecting that."
"What were you expecting?"
I considered it, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Honestly?"
"Honestly."
"Something involving dragons."
He looked deeply offended. "I'll have you know I do like the finer works of literature."
I laughed again, and this time, I didn't immediately feel guilty about it.
The conversation continued far longer than it should have.
We covered books, movies, travel, terrible past jobs, favorite cities, and the absolute worst first dates we'd ever experienced.
I was quite impressed to find out he was an English major who would be finishing his master's degree the following year.
He was hoping to get a university job teaching.
At some point, I learned Tyler was twenty-six, and he found out my age was forty-three.
Neither of us seemed particularly bothered by the gap, which genuinely surprised me. Most men noticed; most men cared.
Tyler shrugged it off. "Age is weird. People act like numbers explain everything."
I stared at him. For reasons I couldn't explain, something about his casual statement lingered in my mind.
He said it so simply, as though it wasn't important, as though age wasn't the first thing people saw when they looked at me, the first thing I saw when I looked in the mirror, and the number one thing I worried about when I started dating again after my divorce. But Tyler didn't seem concerned.
I should probably stop finding him interesting, I reminded myself.
Suddenly, the music changed. The lights dimmed, the crowd grew significantly louder, and women began cheering as several dancers moved toward the stage.
Tyler let out a long, long-suffering sigh.
I frowned. "What's wrong?"
His eyes closed briefly, and the look on his face was so dramatic I almost laughed. Then, a booming voice echoed through the club's speakers.
"Ladies..."
The crowd erupted into an absolute frenzy. I immediately regretted being there all over again. There was more cheering, more screaming, and then the announcer shouted, "Give it up for Tyler!"
The crowd screamed even louder. For several seconds, neither of us moved. Then, the realization hit me like a freight train. I looked at him, then at the stage, then back at him. "Oh."
His expression became completely resigned. "Oh?"
"You're Tyler."
He nodded. "I am."
"The Tyler."
His groan made me laugh. "A girl’s reaction is usually more enthusiastic."
I covered my mouth, trying not to smile. "You work here."
"I do."
I looked toward the stage, then back at him, and finally everything connected in my head: the confidence, the attention, the women waving at him from across the room, the employee badge clipped to his belt, and the fact that we were literally sitting inside a male revue. I felt ridiculous.
"You thought I was a bartender, didn't you?" he asked.
I looked away, blushing furiously. His laughter followed immediately.
"Oh my God," I admitted. "I may have. I didn't know!"
"You are literally sitting in a strip club."
"In my defense, I didn't want to come here."
His grin widened. "That's somehow worse."
I laughed hard enough that tears threatened to form. The pure absurdity of the situation had finally caught up to me.
Tyler shook his head as the women were actively chanting his name now, and I found it much funnier than I probably should have.
"You should probably answer your fans," I teased.
He sighed dramatically, standing up. "The burden of being a celebrity."
I rolled my eyes. "Go."
His smile softened, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The chaotic noise of the room seemed to fade slightly as that familiar awareness returned, that strange connection, the feeling that this conversation wasn't over. Not even close.
Tyler hesitated before walking away. "Don't disappear."
My pulse stumbled just once, hard enough for me to notice. The words were simple and casual, yet somehow they landed differently. I blamed the wine, the vacation, and the fact that I hadn't flirted with anyone in years. It was definitely one of those things. "I'll try not to," I said.
His smile returned, and then he turned and headed straight toward the stage. The crowd immediately erupted. Women cheered, music exploded through the room, and for reasons I couldn't explain, I found myself watching him go.
I watched because somewhere between books and laughter and terrible first-date stories, Tyler had become something much more dangerous than a handsome stranger. He’d become someone I genuinely wanted to know better.
As I sat there listening to hundreds of women scream his name, one very uncomfortable realization settled deep into my chest. I was looking forward to him coming back. Way too much.