Chapter Two #2
“Come on! You’re gonna need new photos soon if you want to set up a profile.”
“A profile?”
“Like for a dating app. So people know you have a life.”
Cierra scoffed, “Mia, I’m months away from even beginning to think about that.”
“All the better reason to get a head start!”
Before Cierra could reply, the bartender returned with the complete order. But while Cierra was admiring the tall cylindrical concoctions, filled with tiny ice cubes and topped with magenta hibiscus flowers, Mia was shifting her neck around, looking for something.
“What are you looking for?” Cierra asked, but Mia couldn’t hear her over the tropical house music playing overhead.
“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?!” Cierra repeated, and Mia waved her hand, as if beckoning someone over.
Cierra looked over her own shoulder to find two age-appropriate men coming their way and whipped around with accusing eyes toward her friend.
“What?” Mia said, like a cat caught with a mouse in its mouth. “I can’t enjoy a girls’ night out with my best friend? We need an objective party to judge which one of us finishes our drink first.”
Instantly, Cierra became incredibly self-conscious about her choice to wear boring straight-leg jeans and a black T-shirt.
And why had she gone out with her hair in a bun?
Could she look more basic? Then another thought came over Cierra: Oh my god, when was the last time I got nervous around a man?
And then another thought: Oh my god, when was the last time I flirted with a man besides Harry?
The pair of men approaching them looked nothing like each other; maybe they were coworkers or old college friends.
And from the slightly dazed expressions on their faces, they also looked like they had ended up in the wrong place.
The first to introduce himself was tall and broad-shouldered.
He had dark brown skin and a soft middle that wasn’t too big but immediately made you think he’d be great to cuddle in bed.
By the way he was biting his lip at Mia, he was obviously loving the interaction.
“I’m Marcus,” he said with a light chuckle.
“Hi, Marcus, thanks for coming over. My friend and I have a very important job for you,” Mia said coyly, already working her charm on them. “Oh, and I’m Mia. This is my best friend, Cierra.”
“Nice to meet y’all,” Marcus said with a smooth voice, never once taking his eyes off Mia.
Here we go, Cierra thought to herself. Not that she ever minded Mia getting more male attention than she did. That was usually the case. But then again, whenever this happened, Cierra used to be able to tell herself, I’m the one with a man at home.
“And I’m Julian,” the second man said. Flowing brown hair, reminiscent of a Backstreet Boy, framed a ruggedly handsome face, which more than made up for him being shorter than his friend.
A teal-blue pullover concealed toned arms underneath.
He looked equally embarrassed by his friend’s flirtatiousness and automatically shared a look with Cierra, letting her know they were both victims of their friends’ antics.
“So, ladies, what can we help you with?” Julian prompted, breaking the weird trance happening between their two slightly hotter friends.
“Well,” Mia said, finally taking her eyes off Marcus, “we’re having a bet. Whoever finishes their drink last, loses.”
By the smiles quirking on each of the guys’ faces, they looked confused but interested.
“What if one of us wants in?” Marcus chimed in. “I love a challenge.”
God, this guy is such an asshole, Cierra thought to herself. And if there was one thing Mia liked, it was a charismatic, charming asshole. At least, she liked them for a week or two, before starting the maddening cycle all over again.
“Okay, you can play too then. But that means . . .” Mia trailed off, looking at Marcus’s friend.
“Julian?” he said, sounding slightly wounded that Mia had forgotten his name so soon.
“. . . that means that Julian has to judge. And no biased treatment, Judge Julian. There are serious consequences on the line.”
“And what exactly are they?” Marcus asked.
“Oh, whoever is last has to wear that skirt to whatever big event they have next,” she said, pointing to one of the many cheeky asses on display.
Marcus grinned. “Count me in. I love to show a little skin,” he said with a wink. Cierra and Julian rolled their eyes in unison.
After Cierra and Mia had secured another round for their new friend Marcus, the competition began. The trio all downed a shot (which almost made Cierra throw up) and drank their ice-cold, overly-sweet hurricanes just as quickly — as if a real one were coming.
They looked at each other with competitive, strained eyes while they chugged.
Cocktail juice was spilling all over Mia, and Marcus finished first at alarming speed.
Based on their ten-minute interaction, Cierra would have put money on Marcus having won hundreds of drinking competitions in college.
Shockingly, Cierra finished faster than Mia, and Julian called it.
“Oh, sorry, Mia. Looks like you finished last.”
Cierra grinned at her exuberant friend, who shrugged it off. Just then, it dawned on Cierra: Mia had definitely made up this stupid game as another excuse to go shopping and wear something fun and ridiculous.
After receiving a dirty look from the bartender, likely in response to chugging their thoughtfully made creation like a shotgun beer, the foursome headed to a nearby bar that had pool tables, darts, grunge rock, and a median age about ten years higher than where they had been previously.
Cierra found herself in that awkward position of being stuck with “the friend” while Mia and Marcus did their thing.
But luckily, Julian made it easy. He wasn’t flirty, probably because some of the first words out of Cierra’s mouth had to do with Harry breaking up with her, followed by some scowling at a couple making out at the other end of the bar.
“Should we call the PDA police?” Julian asked jokingly.
“Sorry,” she said, pulling her glare away from the happy duo. “You’re catching me at a weird time.”
“I see that,” he remarked, before offering to get some drinks.
This guy thinks I’m insane, she thought to herself.
But it’s not like his opinion mattered; she was just grateful to be out of her claustrophobic apartment and for a distraction from her racing thoughts.
Harry’s rebound accusation was playing on repeat.
When Julian came back, he gently guided the conversation towards more conventional topics people have with strangers: favorite pizza place (she preferred Ray’s, he enjoyed deep-dish, which Cierra considered a crime), favorite show (he loved South Park, she just finished Severance), Manhattan versus Brooklyn (they agreed no one should ever be forced to choose).
“Are you more of a cat person or a dog person?” Julian asked.
Feeling the earlier drinking game’s effects, Cierra giggled, “I always thought my ex’s mom looked like a greyhound dog wearing a bobbed wig and pearls. Isn’t that messed up?”
Julian, who until this point had done little more than an occasional polite nod or smile, laughed so hard she could see cute winged creases fanning around his warm brown eyes.
“You’re terrible, you know that?” he asked with a smile.
“Yeah, that seems to be the consensus,” she said with a sigh.
Julian frowned, raising his hand in protest. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
The corner of Cierra’s mouth turned up. “I know. I’m just . . . it’s just fresh.”
Mia and Marcus had gone to the pool section of the bar, where Marcus was looking increasingly flustered at his poor performance while Mia cleaned-up. Cierra and Julian were seated at a small table between the bar and a window facing the street.
“Want another round?”
“Sure,” Cierra said, slightly embarrassed for her cattiness. Julian returned quickly with two big waters and a couple of beers.
“Figured we could use the hydration,” he said with a wink.
“Ugh, I needed this,” is all Cierra could manage before chugging one of the water glasses much to Julian’s amusement.
“So, is this your game?” Cierra started. “You pump unsuspecting girls full of tap water?”
“You caught me. Is it working?”
“Maybe,” she said, taking a final gulp. “Okay, obviously you know some personal stuff about me. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I can’t be the only one to dish tonight. We probably won’t ever see each other again. Tell me something about you.”
“Why do I feel like I’m being interviewed right now?”
“Come on! Here, I’ll start: Hi, I’m Cierra. I’m from Connecticut, originally. I got dumped by a man who is balding, and I’m a chef. Okay, you go.”
Julian chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, fair. I’ve received feedback in the past about being a little too reserved.” He cleared his throat, faux-adjusting an invisible tie.
“My name is Julian Torres. I turned thirty-seven a few weeks ago. I could eat Italian food every day of the week. I work in tech, and”—he eyed Cierra suspiciously—“I’m having some of the most fun tonight I have in months, at least. How’s that?”
Cierra took a swig of her beer and smiled shyly. “That’s good. Better.”
“And for what it’s worth, it sounds like you’re better off without this guy,” Julian said.
Cierra wished she agreed with his assessment.
“You’re funny, have a cool job, gorgeous,” he began, before looking bewildered at his own words and pausing himself.
“Look, I know you’re going through it, but, you’ll be fine. ”
At his kind words, Cierra recoiled at some of her earlier behavior. “I know I’ve been kind of a mess tonight, and you’ve been really nice about it. Thanks.”
“Yeah, well, messes are a part of life. It’s low-key refreshing to see someone acting real. Not putting on a show. You shouldn’t feel bad about letting yourself . . . feel.”
“Oh, so now you’re a therapist too?”
“You know what,” Julian said, wadding up a napkin and throwing it at Cierra. She ducked and looked at him with a surprised smile.
“I take it all back. You’re terrible.”
The night seemed to fly by, with drinks flowing and laughs being had all around.
Marcus turned out to be an absolute riot and a decent singer to boot.
He belted out “Since You’ve Been Gone” in one of the best renditions Cierra had ever heard, and even some of the other bar-goers clapped once the song was over.
But eventually, as Cierra became aware of her aching feet, she sensed it was time to go home.
Everyone else had work the next day, so around ten thirty, they all called it a night.
Mia and Marcus exchanged numbers, and Cierra and Julian gave each other a hug.
“Thanks for the company,” Cierra said with a modest smile.
“Not at all, I should thank you. It gets better, I promise.” Something about the way he said those words let her know he related in a deeper way. And it felt good to hear those words, even though she didn’t yet believe them herself.
They looked at each other for a few moments, not quite sure what to do next.
If the timing were different, maybe she’d ask for his Instagram or would have dropped more hints.
He was obviously into her, and he was the type of guy she’d be into, but even though the distraction was great for tonight, realistically she had no desire for romance of any kind.
And Julian’s hesitancy about being more forth-right showed he understood that, too.
His eyes grazed over Cierra with a restrained longing, but then an air came over him, extinguishing whatever seemed to be on his mind.
God, those are nice eyes, Cierra thought.
“Julian! We’ve gotta go, like, now if we want to catch the J train,” Marcus called.
Julian gave one more look toward Cierra.
“You know what,” he said, digging into his pocket, pulling out a matchbook from the bar with his number scribbled across the top.
“Listen, I was debating saying anything because of your situation, but maybe, in a few months or whenever you feel like putting yourself back out there . . . would you want this?”
“Shuddup. That’s sooo cute, Cee,” Mia interjected with her slurred voice, making both Cierra and Julian chuckle awkwardly.
But Cierra tuned back to Julian, looking into his eyes. “I’d really like that.”
“Alright,” he said with a genuine smile, “cool. Well, I’ll see you then.” With that, Julian turned around and caught up with Marcus, who was already beginning to turn around the block, out of view.
“So, you and Julian seemed to have a good night, huh?” Mia said a little drunkenly, while pulling out a cigarette and waggling her eyebrows erratically like a broken baby doll.
Cierra looked pointedly at the cigarette.
“Don’t worry, our Uber won’t be here for like .
. . three minutes,” Mia said. “So, did you get his number?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t like that. I mean, I’ll use it.
Sometime. Probably. In the distant future.
” Mia scrunched her eyes in confusion, and Cierra let out a sigh.
“The only reason we were talking all night was so that you and Marcus could hang out. I was simply along for the ride. Oh, and I just got out of a six-year relationship, remember?”
“Whatever you say. Admit it, you had fun.”
Cierra grinned at her friend. “Yes, I had fun.”
“And you like him,” Mia said in a drawn-out voice.
“I barely know him, Mia. But he was a perfect distraction, and I’m glad you got me out of the house.” Cierra took a drag from Mia’s cigarette and immediately launched into a coughing fit. Mia started laughing hysterically.
“See! I told you never to start up again! Now look at you . . .” Mia clapped her friend on the back and stomped out the half-smoked cigarette as their Uber pulled up.
In the back of the car, Cierra smelled sweat and beer in her hair, which now lay freely over her shoulders.
It had been nice to have a carefree night out.
She squeezed her sleepy, drunk friend’s hand, and Mia smiled lazily with her eyes closed in response.
Cierra looked out the window at the Brooklyn skyline; taking in the city at night was as mesmerizing now as when she’d first arrived.
Tonight had reminded her that she was among the living, that she could still surprise herself, and that whatever she did next, she wanted more of this feeling.