Chapter Four #2
“Oh?” he asked, more intrigued than worried.
Leading up to their date, Cierra had taken what her sister, Mia, and even Harry had said to heart. She didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. This is a time for me to explore, she assured herself.
“My last relationship, I was in it for six years. Most of my twenties. I do like you, but, at least right now, I’m not looking for anything—”
“Exclusive?”
“Well,” Cierra thought about whether that was the right word, and shrugged, “I was going to say serious. But yeah, exclusive, I guess, too.”
“That’s fine with me,” he said with a calm grin. “I can work with that.”
A little taken aback by how easily he took her words, she was almost disappointed he hadn’t pushed back.
But she knew that was ridiculous. After all, she couldn’t be the only adult in Manhattan bruised after heartbreak, on the lookout for something that didn’t ask for much more than a fun night out. Something to take the lonely edge off.
Just then the server arrived with drinks, and Julian raised a passion fruit margarita.
“What should we cheers to?” Cierra asked.
“How about new possibilities?” he said, eyes fixated on hers.
“I like that,” she replied, and raised her glass as well. “To new possibilities.”
The server then brought over some chips and salsa while they waited for their food.
While she’d never describe herself as a shy person, Cierra felt answers and stories flying out of her with a speed she wasn’t used to.
She was also trying her best not to scarf down every last one of the salsa-filled chip boats her body was so desperately craving.
As the conversation continued, the server re-appeared and apologized for the wait.
He looked frazzled, perhaps because other customers weren’t being as understanding, and explained the kitchen’s backlog was because of the busy night.
He offered another round of chips and drinks on the house, which both Julian and she greedily accepted, and they continued on.
“That was really cool of you,” Julian said. He now had one elbow resting on the table, with his chin cupped in the palm of a strong-looking hand.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that you weren’t mean about the food being late. I hate it when people are rude to waitstaff. You wouldn’t believe some of the dates I’ve been on.”
“Yeah, people can be real assholes,” she said.
Julian let out an open-mouthed guffaw at her candid comment, amused. “Well, don’t feel the need to sugarcoat or anything,” he joked.
Cierra shrugged and gritted her teeth. “Did you ever work in the service industry?”
“All throughout high school. And summers between classes when I was in college. It really helped teach me a work ethic, and how to treat people, for that matter.” He raised his eyebrows, suggesting he’s suffered at the hands of over-inflated guests a time or two.
Harry had never worked a service job in his life.
She thought about Prep School Mom again, and her face darkened.
“Oh, sorry if I said something,” Julian said, pulling Cierra out of her head.
“No, no, you’re fine. You’re great, actually. It’s just”—she paused—“I guess I’m used to being around people who don’t get it. Can’t relate to that kind of experience, I mean.”
“I don’t think anyone on my team at work has worked for under six figures in their life,” Julian said with a disapproving head shake, taking another sip.
“You work in tech, right?” Cierra asked.
“Yeah, on the business side. Acquiring companies, creating synergy, blah blah blah,” he said, probably used to people checking out.
“It seems interesting. Do you like it?”
“Eh, it’s fine. I like the pay, I guess,” he laughed awkwardly, before his eyes widened.
“Whoa, sorry, that probably made me sound like such an asshole.” Cierra shook her head, but Julian continued.
“What I meant was, I grew up without a lot, so it’s nice being in a place where I can be comfortable: travel, take care of my parents, sit on a few charity boards.
The company I work for isn’t innocent, but I try to do what I can. ”
“No, no, I get it. You make a lot of money. It’s very cool,” Cierra teased.
“Wow,” Julian laughed. “I open up about my childhood, and you make fun of me? Terrible!”
Cierra grinned. “At my last job, I felt so out of place. With the staff, the clientele. I always felt like I was walking on eggshells.”
“Sorry, where did you work, again?” Julian asked.
“Terra?”
“Oh, shit,” he said, with a knowing look of shock. “That’s serious. I ate there twice with work. That’s extremely impressive — but I can see what you mean,” he said with an understanding grimace. “But way to bury the lead about you being chef at a world-renowned restaurant like Terra.”
Cierra smirked. “Yeah, well, let’s just say I wasn’t prepared for my culinary career to come with a manual on handling celebrity special requests.”
“Dude, they can be the worst, right?! I hate the way some of them walk around this city. Going around in sunglasses and T-shirts—”
“Like they don’t want to get recognized even though you can tell they totally do.”
Julian raised his hands to the sky, “Thank you! Like bro, you’re an A-list actor. If you hate being recognized so much, maybe you’re in the wrong career.”
They looked at each other for a moment, mutually reveling in being in the presence of someone who understood, before moving on.
You’re just dipping your toes, Cierra reminded herself. You’re not looking for anything serious.
Later, after giving a long-winded answer about how much she loved the movie National Treasure, Cierra halted mid-sentence.
“Wait, wait, wait . . .” she said. “I’m doing all the talking.
” She covered her mouth with her hand, as if she had just discovered something terrible.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I should be asking more questions .
. . please don’t think I’m super obsessed with myself.
I swear I normally don’t talk this much. You’re just so good at . . .”
“Being interested in you?” Julian winked, waving her comment away.
He took another swig of his margarita, which was noticeably still at a higher liquid level than hers.
God, he was so much hotter than she remembered.
How had she not noticed the first time around?
Had she been that distraught over Harry?
Julian wasn’t just good-looking. This man had serious sex appeal.
“And trust me, I would never accuse you of being someone who talked too much. You’re a woman who’s got things to say. Besides, I enjoy listening to you.”
Cierra’s whole body tingled at this, but she couldn’t tell if the warm feeling in her midsection was because of how charmed she was or something else.
At the same moment, Cierra felt the room beginning to sway, and then it finally dawned on her. During exchanges about high school or their favorite action movie, she had crossed over from the coveted buzzed state and into treacherous territory. She was drunk.
It had been years since she had been properly drunk.
No wonder she was talking so much. The last time she’d had this many drinks on virtually an empty stomach was .
. . maybe college? She panicked internally.
What was she supposed to do? She wasn’t in the right frame of mind for devising an exit plan.
Could he tell she was one drink away from being on the floor?
Why did movies make it seem like having a drink or two before a first date was a good idea?
He was so charming, and she was having such a fun time talking with him — just like when they first met.
She didn’t want to mess this chance up, but she felt like she was between a rock and a hard place.
Should she make up an excuse and leave early, potentially making him think she was a flake?
Or should she stay and risk making even more of a fool of herself?
Unfortunately, as she was going through these scenarios in her head, her eyes had glazed over, and her mouth was making subtle movements.
“Uh, you all right?” Julian asked. He tapped her forearm, bringing her back down to earth. “What’s going on up there?”
Overwhelmed by the increasing lack of control she had over her body, all she could think to do was to come clean. She hung her head, sighed, and then came over to Julian’s side of the booth, slinking in next to him.
“Oh, okay. Now I’m really interested,” he said teasingly, but moved over so she had enough space.
Cierra leaned in and cupped her hand around her mouth as she whispered in his ear. “Julian, I have to tell you something.”
He hissed back, “Of course, what is it?”
“I accidentally drank too much, and I didn’t eat verr-much today, and now I’m kind of drink.”
Julian chuckled. “Yeah, I know you’re a little drink.”
Cierra scrunched her face and whispered back, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, but I think I need . . . need t’go home.”
Julian, with kind, disappointed eyes, told her he understood and promptly took care of the bill. Luckily, their orders hadn’t even been made yet, so they could pay quickly.
He helped her put her jacket back on and gently placed a hand around her waist to steady her balance when they left the restaurant. Cierra had started walking toward the subway stop farther down the block when Julian stopped her.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s make sure you get home safe. Okay?”
Since Cierra was unable to articulate any kind of protest clearly, Julian hailed a cab and handed the driver fifty dollars.
Cierra got inside and profusely apologized while the yellow taxi whizzed along Broadway back uptown.
She would have felt worse, but the second she got back to her apartment, she kicked off her shoes and collapsed into bed.