Chapter 10 - Dave
DAVE
Here she is.
Sara.
I feel like a teenager trying to figure out if his crush likes him—not a twenty-seven-year-old man—who really should have his hormones together.
She looks absolutely breathtaking tonight.
The bodice of her lace top hugs her curves, catching the light just enough to draw my eye without begging for it. Black jeans. Heeled ankle boots.
“Hi,” I say first, because if I don’t, I might lose my nerve.
“Hi,” she says, smiling, and for a second I forget how to breathe.
“You come here often?” I tease, and to my surprise, she chortles. A chuckle and snort rolled into one—and coming from her, it’s downright adorable.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, trying to catch her breath. “The bartender used the same line on me less than five minutes ago.”
Rubbing a hand behind my neck, I feel my face heat ten degrees. “Oh. Well, I guess we all get tongue-tied around beautiful women.”
This time, it’s her face that heats. “Smooth.”
“Really, though, I’ve never seen you here before.”
“I’m usually busy at night.” She takes a sip of her drink, and I watch as her tongue slides over her bottom lip. “I’m a League of Legends streamer, so most of my nights are locked into the computer.”
“I see.” The reason for her late-night grocery orders comes into focus. “I guess you must be pretty popular?”
“More or less.” She looks anywhere but at me, fidgeting with the napkin on the table. Interesting—so she’s shy about her streaming.
Clearing my throat, I set my beer down on the table. “I’d love to watch one of your sessions.”
“You play?”
I shake my head. “Not to the level of streamers, but I dabble in Black Ops here and there.”
“Hmmm,” she hums, seeming to be deep in thought.
Not wanting this to turn awkward, I decide to get out of my comfort zone.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask, my hand outstretched for what feels like an eternity.
Her eyes light up, and she gives me a small nod, placing her hand in mine. “Let’s do it.”
My palm settles on her waist as soon as we hit the dance floor. Her body is warm under my touch. The music turns from upbeat to a slower, more seductive beat. The kind that invites closeness. We move together easily. Instinctively—like we’ve done this before, in another life.
Her hands rest on my shoulders as I rock us to the beat.
The crowd fades until it’s just us, swaying together, breathing the same air.
She tilts her head back slightly, looking up at me with her deep, onyx eyes, and suddenly my feet feel like they’re made of lead. I’m locked in place, captivated by her.
My eyes drop to her lips. The space between us shrinks.
Is this real?
Is this actually happening?
My heart pounds in my chest, shock and want tangling together in a heady combination that’s clouding every thought. The attraction between us is palpable.
I drop my forehead to hers, a silent question passing between us. When she doesn’t move, I lean in, slow and careful, giving her the chance to pull away.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she rises up just enough to meet me halfway, her breath hitching as our noses brush. My hand tightens at her waist at the same time she curls her hands into my shirt.
But just before our lips touch, a shrill voice comes from behind Sara, breaking our bubble.
“Sara! Oh my god, there you are!” A woman materializes out of nowhere, looping an arm through Sara’s like she’s claiming her prize.“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” When she looks over and notices me standing across from them, her eyes widen. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt?”
Sara plasters on a polite smile. “Just a little.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s no malice to it. And no annoyance in her tone. They must be close.
“I knew you had taste, but damn.”
“Sydney,” Sara groans.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Sydney says to me as she gestures up and down Sara’s body. “Her outfit was entirely influenced by yours truly.”
Sydney must see the heat in my eyes, so she whispers something to Sara that makes her eyes snap to mine and her cheeks pinken.
“Alright, I’ll leave you to it.” And just like that, Sydney disappears into the crowd.
Sara rolls her lips together and then chuckles lightly. “Do you want a drink?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “I could use one.”
We claim a quiet corner of the bar, half-hidden from the chaos. The music is still loud, but back here it’s muted, like the world decided to give us a little pocket of peace, and we talk.
About nothing. About everything.
I found out the woman who interrupted us was her best friend, Sydney. She has one brother. She loves streaming, but it can be exhausting to be watched all the time. I tell her about my sister, my nephew, my classes—careful not to reveal my side hustle.
We discover we both like quiet mornings and comfort routines, and that words of affirmation is her love language while mine is something called acts of service. We both secretly judge people who hate naps. We both collect small, sentimental things we pretend aren’t sentimental.
I find myself laughing more tonight than I have in months. And it’s all because of her.