“You know what I mean.”
He’s still smirking, but he doesn’t argue. He turns back to his own drink, taking another sip, his eyes scanning the room.
“You going to go talk to him?” I ask, nodding toward the silver fox.
Gabriel glances at the guy, then back at me, and shrugs. “I’m good for now.”
Good. I don’t say it out loud, but the relief that washes over me is stronger than it should be.
By the time I finish Gabriel’s gift cocktail, the bartender is back. Another Aperol Spritz, another explanation.
“From the gentleman at the corner table,” the bartender says, gesturing toward a guy in his mid-twenties sitting with a group of friends. He’s got dark hair and an easy smile, and he’s watching Gabriel with open interest.
I take that drink too.
Gabriel laughs. “You’re going to be drunk before the night is over.”
“I’m your wingman. I can take the extra booze.” I sip the second stolen cocktail. “You need to keep it light. You’re here to find someone.”
“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t sound convinced, but he doesn’t push it.
I’m halfway through the third cocktail when I start to feel it. The alcohol smoothing the edges of everything, making the lights softer and the heat of the bar less oppressive. I’m not drunk, not even close, but I’m buzzed enough that my thoughts are coming slower, looser, less filtered.
Another guy approaches us while I’m draining the last of the drink. He’s mid-thirties, good-looking in a generic way, wearing a tight black t-shirt that shows off his gym routine. He leans against the bar between me and Gabriel, his attention on Gabriel but his eyes flicking to me every few seconds.
“Hey,” he says in accented English. “You guys visiting?”
Gabriel nods. “Staying nearby for a few weeks.”
“Nice.” The guy’s smile widens. He’s got good teeth. “I’m Marco. You two are super hot, by the way.”
My shoulders tense.
Gabriel’s cheekbones flush pink, just a hint of color. “Thanks.”
Marco’s eyes move between us, assessing. “Are you guys together?”
There’s a pause, just a beat too long, and then Gabriel says, “We’re stepbrothers.”
I expect that to kill the guy’s interest, but it doesn’t.
Marco’s smile sharpens, and he gives us both another long look, his gaze lingering on me before moving back to Gabriel. “Even better. You know, I’ve got a place nearby, if you’re interested.”
My stomach twists.
Gabriel shifts on his stool, not looking at me. “Thanks, but we’re good.”
Marco doesn’t leave immediately. He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here for a while.”
Then he’s gone, melting back into the crowd toward the table where his friends are sitting.
I watch him go, then set the empty glass down on the bar harder than I mean to. “Maybe we should hit another bar. Or a club. This place feels off.”
Gabriel looks at me, his eyes searching my face for something I’m not sure I want him to find. The moment stretches, and I can feel my pulse in my throat.
“Sure,” he says finally. “Let’s go.”
We pay the tab and stand. The room tilts slightly when I get to my feet, the alcohol catching up with me, but I’m steady enough. Gabriel leads the way toward the exit, and I follow, keeping close as we navigate through the crowd.
