Chapter 2
Amir
I looked at myself in the mirror. The muted lighting made it surprisingly comfortable and might have been more flattering than usual. It was the perfect feature to have in a bar. More confidence would no doubt lead to more socializing, which meant more drinking.
It was warm, which made the hair that wouldn’t stay in my bun stick to my neck. I fussed with the strands by my ears, frustrated by their unruly behavior.
I was probably self-conscious because I’d been with Trav. Somehow, the guy always looked perfect despite being messy in other ways. Since he had to catch his flight, I was on my own now, which meant the best course of action was to go home. I’d paid the tab and there was nothing else to do.
Giving up on my hair, I left the bathroom.
The dark ambience of the bar was less overwhelming than most places around here.
Since it was a college town, it was hard to find somewhere that didn’t expressly cater to that population.
Bright lights, loud music, and strange lingo were the norm.
Combined with the older, more refined polish of Yale, it created a melting pot that I wasn’t all that fond of.
I rubbed my palms on my jeans as I turned toward the counter.
The bartender was wiping down the place Trav and I had been sitting, and his lips moved like he was singing along to something.
There was a pair of headphones around his neck, but I hadn’t seen him put them on.
Maybe because he liked to listen to people’s conversations.
To be fair, I would listen to people, too, if I had his job. It couldn’t be all that exciting.
Since I didn’t have anything better to do tonight, I walked back to the counter and took my previous seat. He was facing away from me, checking the levels of the liquor bottles meticulously, as if there was a science to it.
I took a second to study him. He was tall, probably an inch or two taller than me.
Lean muscle made his body stand out, even in his black flannel, but not in an over-the-top way.
He had the physique of a runner, although he didn’t strike me as one.
Maybe I was being judgmental, but the hoops in his nose and lip gave him a different edge.
“What can I get you?” he asked without turning around.
I looked behind me, but I was the only one nearby.
“Another whiskey,” I replied.
He set down a bottle, then turned around smoothly, wearing the hint of a smile. “Ah, I thought you’d left. Need your change?”
“I didn’t ask for change.”
“In that case . . .” He produced a glass from beneath the bar, and with a flourish, he grabbed the bottle and tipped it, pouring the whiskey to the halfway point. Exactly to the halfway point. “On the house.”
He held it out to me, and when his fingers brushed mine, he winked.
“Thanks, but I can pay.”
“And so can I, handsome.”
“So, he’s a flirt,” I ventured, trying not to sound like a complete idiot.
His smirk intensified. “So, he enjoys it.”
“Maybe I’d rather pay for it.”
He lifted one shoulder. “If it’s that big of a deal, but I’m of the opinion that you should smile and say thank you when people make offers from the heart.”
“Is it from the heart?” I asked, then tried to hide my smile behind the glass.
“Everything I do is from the heart.” After a second, he snorted a laugh. “Damn, even I can’t lie that well.”
“If not from the heart, then where?”
He hummed and leaned back against the cabinet on the wall.
While I drank, I took the opportunity to check him out.
His hair was deep brown with body that made it bounce when he moved.
It came down to his jaw, and it looked incredibly soft.
He had high cheekbones and full lips that made his lip ring hug the lower one tightly.
The hoops in his septum and right nostril drew attention to the gentle slope of his nose, slightly upturned at the end.
His features were sharp in a way that was elegant, and I couldn’t deny that he was beautiful.
His brown eyes met mine, and I shifted my gaze to the side to watch a group of people playing pool. The table was almost out of place here.
“Let’s just chalk it up to you being lovely,” he said after a minute.
My fingers tightened around the glass. “Oh. Well, thank you.”
I sucked in a breath when he dropped his elbows to the counter, which brought him close to me so suddenly that I reared back.
“Your friend is gay.”
I resituated myself and tried not to feel intimidated by his overwhelming presence. “Yeah, he is.”
“Are you?”
Out of habit, I hesitated. “Yes.”
“But not together.”
“You heard our conversation. He’s very happily taken.”
“Just checking. Some guys are into sharing.”
“Are you?”
A mesmerizing smile took over his face. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you did.”
He stepped back. I took the chance to draw in a full breath that wasn’t dominated by the scent of dark cacao. It made my mouth water, so I washed it away with the whiskey. It ended up pairing incredibly well.
“Are you going to answer?” I asked when he still hadn’t said anything.
“No, Amir, I’m not.” He put his hands on the counter and locked onto my eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was his voice or my name that made goosebumps rise on my arms.
“No?” I repeated.
“I don’t share. Glad we cleared that up.”
I breathed a laugh. “What’s your name?”
“Remi.”
I glanced at the sign behind him. It matched the aesthetic of the place flawlessly. Looking at him again, I leaned forward. His scent overwhelmed my senses, but this time, I didn’t try to rid myself of it.
His fingers spider-crawled closer to my hand. “What are you thinking? Shocked some lowlife like me could swing it?”
I flicked my pinky out to trip his fingers up before they could reach me. “I wonder what makes someone want to own a bar. Not just own, but man it.”
“You think it’s a job for college kids and basement-dwellers.” His eyes went to my shirt, then drank in the rest of me. “What do you do, anyway?”
I moved my finger around the rim of my glass. “Most people are dying to get out of service jobs. I think it takes a lot of patience and hard work.”
“Mostly because they pay like shit and the customers are assholes. I don’t mind those things.”
“How do you manage it?”
He brought his headphones up. “Like this.”
“I’m confused.”
“What?” he asked loudly.
“I’m confused.”
He shook his head and pointed at his ear. “Sorry.”
Without another word, he walked away. I stared after him and laughed when he popped his hip to one side, then strummed an air guitar.
The looks from his customers didn’t seem to deter him as he continued to exuberantly collect empty glasses and check in with everyone.
There was a guy in the corner who had been flirting with him earlier, but Remi brushed off his advances expertly before he came back to the counter.
“What are you listening to?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, so I leaned across, and he obliged me by dipping his head so I could take the headphones.
“Did you say please?” he asked.
“Of course.”
I was still smiling as I put them on. They were shockingly comfortable, and I wondered if I should switch out my earbuds for a pair of these things.
The music, though, wasn’t something I’d choose.
I couldn’t decide if it was romantic or funereal.
Yet, as I sat in the bar, with its gritty atmosphere and passé resonance, I sank deeper into it.
The already purposeful aesthetic became resolute, grounded in something greater than simple décor.
When I looked up, Remi was no longer in front of me. I peered around the bar but only saw the same few groups of people from before. Since it would be incredibly rude to go searching for him in the back, I sat there, shamelessly wearing his headphones while I basked in a piece of his world.
I tracked him immediately when he returned to the front, drying his hands and wearing a faint smile as he approached. He leaned his elbows on the surface in front of me, and I didn’t move back, but I shifted one of the pads away from my ear.
“Like it?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “What even is it?”
He pulled out his phone to check. “That one’s Jason Isbell.”
“Why don’t you play it in here? It fits.”
“Most people aren’t into it.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “They want Taylor Swift and Benny what’s-his-face.”
“And you don’t like them.”
“They’re cheap. Fast food for your ears.”
My head tilted slightly as I studied him. “You’re interesting.”
His dark eyes seemed to light up. “Do you like interesting men?”
I took a drink of my whiskey while I considered how to answer. He didn’t look away from me, and now that we’d spent some time talking, it felt exhilarating.
“Of course I like interesting men.” Coming back to my senses, I glanced around the bar.
“Then maybe you’ll stick around,” he said. “Last call’s in two hours.”
“Stick around for what?”
“Anything. Everything.” He grabbed a towel and twisted it around his palm. “Guess we’ll just wait and see. You got time?”
I looked at the rings on his fingers, then the veins on the back of his hand. The way the tendons moved as he played with the rag made me consider his words more than I should have.
“I have time,” I replied, my voice sounding far away, like it didn’t belong to me.
His smile, though wide, appeared dark. It made me wonder if I should backtrack, but it also kept me in my seat.
Spinning my glass around slowly, I stared into it. I had no idea what happened at last call, but I decided I’d nurse this drink until then. There was something about this guy that told me I needed to keep my wits about me.