Chapter 8 Isaac
EIGHT
ISAAC
Excitement courses through me as I pull into a parking spot outside of Evan’s apartment.
I still can’t believe he asked me to come over tonight.
I haven’t been able to get him out of my head since he literally ran into me a few weeks ago.
At first, I wasn’t even sure he worked at the stadium.
After a doing some digging online, I discovered he’s the new Food and Beverage Coordinator, so when Carter asked me to help set up his office, I jumped at the opportunity.
I was disappointed when we arrived this morning to discover Hope was surprising him and he likely wouldn’t be coming by the office.
Much to my surprise and enjoyment, he arrived less than twenty minutes after us.
I was even more shocked when he asked me over but didn’t ask anyone else.
After a quick look in the rearview mirror to check my hair, I make my way to his apartment on the third floor and knock.
Seconds later the door swings open and Evan is standing there freshly showered, smelling like the beach, in a light-green button-down shirt with the first four buttons undone, showing off his gorgeous chest, and a pair of khaki cargo shorts.
He’s definitely spent some time outside since I ran into him a few weeks ago and the tan looks good on him.
Damn, he looks as delicious as he smells.
Evan rakes his dark eyes, full of want and need, over my body before they meet mine.
“Come in,” he squeaks out. Then quickly clears his throat as he steps back so I can enter. “Have a seat,” he offers, motioning to the couch. “What can I get you to drink? I have a bottle of red wine one of my neighbors brought me, bourbon, water, and orange juice. Sorry, not many choices.”
“What are you having?”
“Bourbon, neat.”
“I’ll have a bourbon on the rocks. I don’t know how you drink it hot. I need the ice.”
“It’s room temperature, not hot,” Evan tells me with a smile. “I’m something of a self-proclaimed bourbon connoisseur and cannot bring myself to ruin a good bourbon with ice, water or any kind of mixer, but I don’t fault those who prefer it that way,” he adds.
He pours our drinks and joins me on the couch.
“Okay, Mr. Bourbon Connoisseur, tell me what I’m drinking.”
“This is a fifteen-year-old small batch bourbon from the Olde Derby Distillery outside of Louisville, Kentucky. It’s one of my favorites. Very smooth with notes of caramel, vanilla, and a hint of spice.”
“Damn, that’s good,” I express. He’s right. This is one of the smoothest bourbons I’ve ever had. “I tend to stick to beer because it’s easy and most of the time liquor just tastes nasty. Clearly, I’ve been drinking crap. This stuff is amazing,” I admit.
“It is really good.” Evan smiles, pleased with my reaction.
“I’m happy to teach you about good bourbons.
There is no reason to drink crappy liquor.
What’s the point? Well, unless your sole purpose is to get drunk then I guess drinking the cheap stuff is smart.
Something like this is going to be upwards of forty or fifty bucks a shot in a bar. Another reason to enjoy it at home.”
“Fair point. I’m not big on getting drunk. I like to remember my nights and prefer not waking up with a hangover.”
“Me, too. Most nights if I pour a drink, I spend hours sipping on it.”
“That’s more my speed,” I tell Evan, holding my glass up to clink with his.
Comfortable silence stretches between us as we enjoy sipping our bourbon.
It’s been a long time since I felt this relaxed around someone who caught my interest. Most of the time, I either get bored almost immediately or I’m an awkward bundle of nerves that can’t shut up.
With Evan, it feels different. I’m completely relaxed and don’t feel the need to fill the silence by saying something stupid.
“How about some music or maybe a movie?” Evan asks.
“Sure. Either is fine with me.”
Evan walks to the shelf next to the television and presses a button on a small black speaker then he connects his phone and quiet jazz music starts playing in the background.
I’m glad he chose music. That way we can talk.
I hate watching movies on a first date. Shit.
As soon as the thought hits, I start backtracking in my head.
This isn’t a date. Sure, he asked me over for a drink, but we just met. I’m getting ahead of myself.
“Is this music okay? I can play something else.”
“This is great.”
I can listen to most any kind of music, but my personal favorite is boy bands.
They’re kind of my guilty pleasure–anything from the Beatles to New Kids on the Block to One Direction.
I love that shit. Of course, that’s not something I’m sharing with someone I’ve only known a few hours.
Hell, I might never tell him. It’s not like anyone else knows except my younger brother and that’s only because he came home early one night when we still shared a room and caught me dancing while belting out an NSYNC song.
He never told anyone my secret, but he still makes fun of me.
“Do you like jazz?”
“I listen to pretty much anything. Mostly Pop, but I’m not against any music. What about you? Do you stick with jazz?”
“Mostly, yes. It has a calming effect on me. I’m not opposed to other music when someone else is choosing, but when I’m home alone, jazz is always my go-to.”
“What do you like to do in your free time? Besides drinking damn good bourbon and listening to jazz?”
“The past few weeks, I’ve mostly been sleeping in my free time,” he jokes.
At first, I laugh, but when he doesn’t laugh with me, my smile fades and I get serious.
“When I have the time, I like to go for walks. I’ve driven out to the beach a few times since I’ve been here, but it’s a little crowded for my taste. ”
“Yeah, the more popular beaches can get really crowded, but there are some quieter ones that aren’t well known.”
“I’ll have to find one of those.”
“I can show you sometime if you want.”
“Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks.”
“You said, you’ve been sleeping a lot. Is the job not going well?” I ask.
“The job is great, but it’s new and I have a lot to learn.
Before I moved here, I worked at the stadium in New Jersey as one of the food and beverage managers.
The job was similar, but this is heading up all of the restaurants and bars instead of one or two.
By the time I get home all I want to do is eat and go to bed. ”
“You’re from New Jersey?” I ask. I probably should have recognized the accent.
“Yep. Born and raised in Rutherford.”
“No shit. Me, too. Well, not Rutherford. I was born and raised in Edison.”
“No kidding! That’s cool.”
“Do you ever get used to the heat?” Evan asks. “I miss the cold temperatures and I know once winter gets here, I’m going to wish for snow.”
“The heat definitely gets old, and it never thinks about getting cold here. I miss my family but not the snow. I’d rather suffer through the heat than shovel another driveway.”
“Not me. I absolutely love the snow and everything about it. Since I was old enough to hold a shovel, I’ve been shoveling our driveway, neighbors’ driveways, and the sidewalk.
” Evan looks lost in amazing memories for a minute before shaking his head and continuing. “I’m going to miss it come November.”
“I’ve never met someone who gets nostalgic over shoveling snow.” I laugh and shake my head.
I like Evan. He’s interesting and damn sexy.
It has taken every ounce of willpower to keep my hands to myself all day and sitting on the couch next to him listening to him reminisce about our home state has me wanting to reach for him.
My heart rate picks up a few notches, my hands begin to sweat, heat rushes through my body.
What the hell is he doing to me? I’ve never felt this way about anyone, especially after only knowing him a few hours. I clear my throat and stand up.
“Bathroom?” I ask.
“Down the hall, first door on the left.”
“Thanks,” I croak.
I have to put some distance between us before I do something embarrassing like kiss him.
I’m sure he’s gay, but what if he isn’t?
What if he’s being nice and trying to make friends in this new city?
I guess if that was the case, he would have asked Tyson and Carter to join us, but he only asked me.
I flush the toilet even though I didn’t actually use it then I splash some cold water on my face and look in the mirror.
“Calm down,” I whisper to my reflection.
“You can do this. Either go out there and be his friend or make a move. What do you have to lose?” My personal pep talk does little to calm me as my anxiety ratchets up a few more notches.
If I make a move, it could ruin the start of a friendship and I like hanging out with Evan.
On the other hand, if I don’t make a move, I’m going to keep torturing myself with what ifs.
“You’ve got this. He’s putting off interested vibes.
Go for it.” Anything is better than pretending to hit on girls at the club with Tyson and Carter, even if I’m wrong about the vibe I’m getting from him.
After drying my hands and face, I walk back to the other room.
The apartment is small–one bedroom, one bathroom with a kitchen, eating nook, and living room all open to one another.
There’s a small balcony off the kitchen.
I like Evan’s place. It suits him. The couch is empty when I come out of the bathroom and with a quick glance to the right, I find him in the kitchen.
“Are you hungry? I’m going to make some pasta and a salad,” he offers.
“Don’t go to any trouble.” I’m starving, but I don’t want to put Evan out.
“It’s no trouble. The pasta is one of those frozen dishes with everything already in the bag. Basically, you put it in a pot, and it takes care of itself. The salad comes from a bag, too. Nothing to it.”
“Sounds good to me. How can I help?”