Chapter Nineteen
Six Months Ago
It had been over seven months since I’d stopped drinking. Again. It had also been over seven months since I’d made my one-year celibacy proclamation. And I was getting antsy. I hadn’t gone this long without sex in decades and I did not like it.
Sure, I enjoyed getting up in the morning without finding some random on my living room couch asking me what I was going to make him for breakfast, scowling when I said, “Nothing” and “Please get the fuck out.” I knew my year-long sex break was definitely for the best, but now I couldn’t tell which I craved more, booze or men.
“You’re doing a very brave thing,” Quinn said as we sat down with our lunch on a Friday afternoon. “Just think, in less than five months you’ll be free to enter into a relationship with whoever you want.”
I laughed, almost spitting my fried rice onto the table. “I don’t want the relationship part; all I want is the sex part. Finding my soulmate is not what I’m craving right now.” I scooped a bunch of rice up with my fork and stabbed a piece of breaded chicken.
“Nor should you be,” Quinn said as she peeled the foil back on her burrito. “I was just saying that maybe one day your ‘only sex’”—she air-quoted—“will turn into something more.”
“Doubtful.” I took a sip of my green tea.
“What’s doubtful?” Ethan walked in and plopped himself down on a chair across from us. At some point we had all become lunchtime buddies, the three of us taking a late lunch so we could hang in the kitchen and chat and be inappropriate without anyone else listening.
“Julie ending up in a relationship,” Quinn said and I kicked her under the table.
“Ouch, what?” she said, oblivious.
“Oh, sorry, was that your leg?” I caught her eye and gave her my “shut it” look, which she shrugged off as usual.
The side of Ethan’s mouth tugged up in a half grin. “I find that hard to believe.”
Did I just blush?
I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic and a giggle popped out, which I promptly covered up with the back of my hand. Good Lord, what was wrong with me? I was turning into Marnie. And with that thought, I immediately recovered, arranged my features back into their usual cynical places, and rolled my eyes.
“Speaking of dates,” Ethan said, “do either of you want to go to Avenue after work? They have a new cocktail I want to try.”
“I can’t,” Quinn said as she cleared up her lunch dishes. “I have a date with my washer and dryer. I ran out of clean clothes this morning.”
Ethan looked at me, his eyebrow raised in a sexy question mark. “I know you don’t drink, but they have some tasty mocktails there as well.”
“Who else is going?” I wasn’t sure if I was in the mood to try to be nice to people.
“Just me,” he said. “The rest of the office isn’t really a cocktail kind of crowd.”
“So, just me and you?” I asked and then glanced at Quinn, who shrugged.
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “So, did you want to go or are you going to break my heart?” He clasped his hands onto his chest dramatically.
I thought about it for half a second and then nodded. “Sure, I’ll go.”
What was the harm in just us going out? The fact that he had asked me and Quinn to go must mean he no longer had a girlfriend or he would have gone with her. And he looked so pathetic waiting for me to answer. Like I’d actually break his heart if I said no. “I’ll meet you there though. I have a couple of errands to run after work.”
“Great!” He beamed and dug into his disgusting-looking tofu salad. “It’s a date.”
All right then, game on.
Avenue was packed when I got there, of course, because it always is, and I was late, of course, because I always am. As I walked in the door, the warm air immediately relaxed my shoulders, previously hunched due to trying to push my way through the frigid gale-force winds Mother Nature had offered up as a mid-January blizzard surprise. The tangy smell of garlic made my stomach growl; I was starving.
I looked around the cozy wood-paneled dining area, my eyes touching on the tables full of cocktails that the restaurant was famous for. I could sure use a cocktail, I thought but quickly pushed it away. Just because I couldn’t drink didn’t mean we couldn’t have fun. I liked Ethan. Well, I liked to look at Ethan. The truth was Quinn usually carried the lunchtime conversation. I wasn’t sure if he and I had anything in common other than our presumably mutual attraction. I guessed I would find out.
I peeked at my reflection in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. I’d brush-curled a few pieces on the side and the ringlets perfectly framed my face. Despite the wind, they’d held up pretty well.
I scanned the room and found Ethan sitting at a table in the corner. He hadn’t seen me yet so I indulged in some blatant staring. When we hung out at work, I only allowed myself fleeting glances so I wouldn’t be so obvious.
My goodness, he was gorgeous: young and blemish free. His dark blond hair framed a strong jaw with just a hint of stubble. Even from a distance I could see the outline of his toned arms under his slim-fitting long-sleeved T-shirt. A shiver fluttered through me, starting at my stomach and ending at my toes. This should be an interesting night.
“For how many?” The hostess walked up, menus in hand.
“I’m with him.” I pointed at Ethan.
“Lucky.” She winked.
Ethan stood as I arrived at the table. “You made it!” he said and walked over to give me a hug. I momentarily stepped back. We’d never hugged before, was this weird? He didn’t seem to notice and drew me in. I’d never been this close to him. He smelled like mint mixed with the spicy scent of his cologne. He was so tall that my face pressed into his shoulder and I could feel the solid outline of a deltoid though the soft fabric of his shirt. Another shiver shot through me, stronger this time. It had been so long since I’d felt this kind of sexual attraction that I almost didn’t know what to do with myself.
“You look nice,” he said as I took off my coat and hung it on a hook beside the table. I was wearing the same thing he’d seen me wearing at the office, but sure, I’d take the compliment.
“Thanks.” I smiled and sat down. “You’re not so shabby yourself.” Shabby? Am I British now?
He smiled and ducked his head with false modesty. He was obviously the kind of guy who heard similar sentiments all the time. Probably not sentiments that included the word “shabby,” but who’s to say, really?
“Have you been here before?” He handed me a menu and pointed out the mocktails at the bottom. “They have great food too, are you hungry? Maybe we should get something to eat.”
“I have been here, but not for a while. I can’t say I’ve tried their food before though, which is pretty sad.” I glanced at the prices, knowing that on my salary I couldn’t afford much. I was very hungry, however. Maybe just something small. My stomach, as if trying to convince me, growled loudly.
“Was that your stomach?” Ethan said, laughing, and I blushed. “Wow, you are hungry. How about I treat?”
“Oh, no, that’s fine, thanks.” Maybe we would get some free bread.
He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I know you probably don’t make much as an admin assistant; let me treat. You deserve it for working so hard.”
Well, if he insisted. “Sure.” I smiled. “That would be really nice.”
The server came by and set two waters on our table. I ordered a cranberry and soda even though my mouth watered when Ethan ordered a Cherry Smash cocktail.
“So,” he said after the server left, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but—”
“Why don’t I drink?” I knew it had to come up at some point.
“Yeah. I feel like we know each other well enough now that you could tell me.” He put his menu down. “If you want,” he added.
And there was the question. Did I feel comfortable telling Ethan why I didn’t drink? Did I feel comfortable telling him I was an alcoholic? That I used to drink to excess and make poor choices and swipe through Tinder like I was playing Russian roulette? That it had gotten so bad that I couldn’t get through the day without the background buzz of alcohol numbing my thoughts and feelings to the point where I just stopped feeling anything at all?
I decided I didn’t.
“Just for health reasons,” I said. “I don’t need the extra calories.”
“Wow, respect.” He took a sip of water. “It’s nice knowing someone who doesn’t like putting trash in their bodies. It’s pretty rare, actually.”
“Totally.” I sipped my own water.
“I mean I like drinking for sure, but other than that, I eat really healthy. My body is a temple, you know?” He patted his abs like he’d just eaten a good meal.
I raised my eyebrow. Was he joking? I seriously couldn’t tell. But who said that out loud?
“Well, you know what I mean.” He leaned in. “Obviously you take pretty good care of yourself.”
I smiled. I was having a hard time reconciling the fact that I was super attracted to what he looked like but not really to what was coming out of his mouth. Maybe he would eventually stop talking.
He didn’t.
“I know you totally get it, but people don’t realize how much work this takes. It’s not like I can just eat anything I want.” He pointed at his stomach and then flattened his hand across his shirt, revealing very little, if any, body fat underneath. “How much do you work out?”
Oh, good. It was going to be one of those nights. I was beginning to regret accepting his dinner offer. Free meal or no free meal, the only thing I hated more than exercising was talking about exercising.
“Oh, about zero times a week,” I said.
“Damn, girl!” He reached out to give me a high five and I returned it, hating myself. “You’re so lucky; you must have a super-fast metabolism.”
“Sure,” I said, desperate for the server to come take our order. I honestly didn’t remember our lunchtime hangouts being so painful. I missed Quinn.
“That’s so dope.”
So dope.
For the next ten minutes he talked about working out and how much fun working out was and how he would probably die if he didn’t work out. He talked about the endorphin rush he got after a “solid set” but how he didn’t want to get “too jacked” because huge muscles were sometimes “a turnoff for the ladies.”
When the server finally came around, I ordered a plain salad with oil and vinegar and a chicken breast with steamed veggies, even though I really wanted the beef Wellington. I didn’t want Ethan to run away in horror. He was paying, after all.
“I saw you the other day,” Ethan said after he handed the server our menus.
“Oh yeah?” I sipped my cranberry and soda, looking up through my eyelashes.
“Yeah, at 13th Avenue Coffee House. You were sitting in the corner with some pudgy guy.”
I looked up with a start. Pudgy guy? That was rude.
“What?” he said, finally noticing my expression.
“That’s not very nice.”
“What? Pudgy?” He laughed. “I was just joking around.”
“It didn’t sound like it to me. It sounded mean. Luke is a great person.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“No. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re good friends though. And calling him pudgy is offensive.”
“Aw, come on,” he said, “it’s just like we were talking about. Some people kind of coast through life, not trying hard, not wanting to do things that are challenging. It just seems like whatever his name is—”
“Luke.”
“Right, Luke. It just seems like Luke is probably one of those people.”
“Luke is not one of those people.” I’d had about enough of this bullshit. Spewing crap about people in general being lazy was one thing; talking about someone specific was another, especially when that someone was a person I cared about.
“Luke is one of the most amazing, kind, and hard-working people I know. And just because he doesn’t spend his life in a gym and look like a carbon copy of every other bro-dude who works out excessively doesn’t mean he isn’t worth something.”
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t know you guys were so close,” he said, looking genuinely, and rightly, ashamed.
“You know what though?” I continued, not caring how sorry he was. “Even if we weren’t close, it’s not a very nice thing to say. There are so many people in this world who are beautiful in many different ways, and if people like you would just open your eyes every once in a while, what people looked like wouldn’t matter so much.”
I sat back in silent shock. I couldn’t believe I’d said that. I’d never stood up for anything other than last call.
“Okay, okay.” He held his hands up in defence. “Sorry. I was just making an observation; I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought we felt the same way about things. That’s always been the vibe I’ve gotten off of you.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, that’s on me then,” I said. “To be perfectly honest, what you said was pretty bang on to how I used to feel. It’s only been recently that I’ve started to see things differently. I’ve been seeing a lot of things differently since I stopped drinking.”
“Okay, cool. That’s cool,” he said as the server placed our meals in front of us. He leaned closer after she walked away. “Are we cool?”
“Sure, we’re cool.” I dug into my boring-looking meal, wishing I had taken my own advice and ordered what I’d wanted.
He grinned and then dug into his equally boring-looking meal. Why bother coming here if you weren’t going to order any of the delicious food off the menu? What a waste.
We ate the rest of our meal mostly in silence. Chatting about work once or twice, not really hitting anything too deep. It was awkward, but at least we weren’t talking about working out.
When the server came by with the dessert menu, I grabbed it before Ethan could finish shaking his head. I was still hungry, and after sitting through one of the most awkward dinners of my life, I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass up a free dessert.