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1
It was already dark by the time Heather got out of the office and down to the busy streets of lower Manhattan. The frigid winter air hit her as soon as she started walking, and she tugged on her scarf, making sure it covered as much of her neck and chest as possible. After being indoors all day and missing lunch due to a tight deadline from a demanding client, the chilly air was invigorating.
Heather had stopped by Megan’s office on her way out, just to see when and where they were going tonight, but it turned out Megan had a date lined up. Heather was thrilled for her, obviously, but it just meant that their normal Friday routine wasn’t happening.
So, instead of hitting a gay bar together like they did most Friday nights, Heather found herself wandering towards her favorite Mexican spot, knowing she’d need to eat before she could even think about having a few drinks.
Heather continued her walk, the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement as she turned down a quieter street. She took a deep breath, inhaling the chilly night air, her breath coming out in a cloud of smoke before she caught sight of the orange neon sign up ahead. She strode towards what were, in her opinion, the best tacos in the city.
Her stomach rumbled as she ordered, the sizzling sound of chicken or shrimp on the grill filling the tiny restaurant. She took a seat beside the window, watching the occasional person go by, wondering how so few people seemed to know about this place.
A few minutes later, the server arrived with a sizzling plate of chicken tacos and a side of rice and beans. Heather thanked him and dug in, the smell making her realize just how hungry she was.
As she ate, she tried not to think about the heavy workload ahead of her next week. She was finally getting the recognition she thought she deserved as a talented graphic designer, but the company she worked for were putting a lot on her plate.
Megan knew exactly how she felt. She was a creative director at the same marketing agency, but she seemed to be resigned to the idea that it was just part of the business they were in. The clients paid a lot, and that just came with a certain level of pressure and unrealistic deadlines.
Heather wasn’t so sure, but she’d only been in the job five months, and she’d gained an amazing friend out of it if nothing else.
It was hard to believe that was how long she’d known Megan for, because it really felt like five years, not five months. They’d clicked almost immediately, and at least that kept Heather looking forward to going into the office each morning. They went out for dinner or to a gay bar at least twice a week, because their heavy workloads didn’t allow for much more than a lunch break together and maybe a five minute chat while they were getting coffee in the morning.
Heather might be losing her wingwoman though. Megan was trying out just about every dating app and website that existed, and Heather just wasn’t interested in that. Megan always seemed so hopeful when she read someone’s profile or saw their photo. All signs pointed to a particular woman being just Megan’s type, but the dates never seemed to live up to her expectations.
Hopefully, tonight’s date would be different. Heather didn’t get it, but she had to admire her friend for putting herself out there continuously when she knew she would have already given up.
She left a few dollar bills on the table before she left, rearranging her scarf again as the brisk night air seemed to find that last bit of skin that she’d left exposed. She could go home. She was still in her work clothes, so she probably should. Not that she didn’t look good.
Heather kind of secretly enjoyed wearing her business casual attire, loving how her charcoal pants fit her snugly, her black belt more for show than for necessity. She had a black silky button up blouse on, and her light brown hair was down with just a few waves in it. Her makeup still looked decent, the smokey eyeshadow highlighting her blue eyes. She could definitely go out like this. Especially when she was just thinking of going to a wine bar instead of a night club.
She might even download one of those apps Megan was using, but even thinking about it now made her roll her eyes as she walked, the hum of traffic and horns blaring mixing with the conversations going on around her as people passed by her on the sidewalk, some on their phones, some tourists wondering if they’d missed their street.
Heather just couldn’t see herself ever creating a profile. She preferred the randomness of going out to a gay bar. Yeah, even in New York City, the faces were the same most nights, but at least there was the potential for something to happen, for a connection to be made with someone she might never have been drawn to after reading their dating profile.
She needed to see if she had a connection with someone. It might sound cheesy or a little esoteric, but that was the way she approached dating. Not that it had gotten her very far. She’d met some amazing women over the years, but at the age of twenty-nine, she was still single. Part of that was due to the fact that she couldn’t seem to resist an older woman. Well, she usually did the chasing, so was resist even the right word?
Either way, Heather always seemed to run into problems after a few nights together. If the woman wasn’t in the middle of getting a divorce, she wasn’t sure that she could be seen dating someone so much younger than her.
Megan had no problem teasing her. Even in the five months that they’d known each other, she’d witnessed two disasters. The last one was particularly stupid, because Heather had walked right into it. Even though she’d had a great time with Lara, she’d made it very clear from the start that she wasn’t out, and that she had no interest in changing that. Heather should have forgotten about her then and there, but no, she’d done the opposite.
So, maybe Heather could do with changing up her approach to dating, but it definitely wasn’t going to be by following Megan’s lead and posting her picture online for people to judge her in three seconds and swipe one way or the other.
As she neared the heart of the Village, the streets came alive. The warm glow of restaurant windows and chatter of people spilled out onto the sidewalks. The aroma of garlic and baked bread wafted out of an Italian restaurant, mingling with the crisp winter air.
Finally, she arrived at the wine bar. A warm amber light glowed from within. Through the window, she could see patrons seated at the bar, conversing over glasses of wine. The faint sound of jazz floated out each time the door opened.
Heather rubbed her hands together, cold from the walk over, and stepped inside. The cozy space enveloped her, the soft lighting and smooth jazz welcoming. She unwound her scarf and shrugged off her coat, already feeling herself begin to relax. Settling into an open seat at the bar, she ordered a glass of Malbec, eager to unwind after a long week. As she sipped the rich, velvety wine, she took in the atmosphere - the quiet conversations, the mellow music.
Her eyes caught with a woman’s sitting at one of the round tables beside the windows, her black hair tossed over one shoulder. She was wearing a long-sleeved white scoop neck top that hugged her figure, both arms resting on the table, and although she was sitting alone, this woman oozed confidence.
Heather forced herself to keep her eyes moving. She trusted her gaydar, but she’d never been confident enough to approach a woman away from a gay bar or a Pride event. It just seemed too intimidating, the chance of humiliation or embarrassment too high.
She sucked in a breath as she faced the bar, her hands a little clammy as she clasped them together on the counter. There was no way that woman was actually looking at her. She was probably doing the very same thing Heather was, just looking around and taking in her surroundings.
Heather ran a hand through her hair, tilting her head to the side, not even sure if she’d be able to see the woman with that subtle turn of her head, but she could, and the woman was looking right back at her.
Except this time, Heather didn’t look away. The woman darted her eyes away first, and now Heather’s heart was beating faster.
No fucking way.
