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“I hope so,” I bite my lip. “There’s a lot riding on this. If things go wrong, I could lose my job and then I won’t be able to pay my grandma’s mortgage.”
“Nothing is going to go wrong. You’re amazing and I know Ezra knows that.”
I can feel that familiar bond between us, the one that has always made our friendship so special. "Thanks, Kate. I'll see you this weekend then."
"Can't wait! Love you, girl," Kate says, her voice warm and affectionate.
"Love you, too!" I reply, hanging up the phone.
I make my way to find Ezra. I find him in his office, poring over some documents. As I enter, he looks up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of me.
"Hey, Quinn. What's up?" he asks, curiosity lacing his deep, masculine voice.
I take a step closer, feeling the warmth radiating from his strong presence. "I just got off the phone with my friend Kate," I begin, my heart pounding in my chest. "She invited us to go out with her and her boyfriend this weekend. It's a bar downtown, in a part of town you might not be familiar with. But I thought it might be fun for us to join them. What do you think?"
Ezra leans back in his chair, considering my proposal. His eyes roam over me, and I can sense the wheels turning in his head. After a moment, he nods, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Why not? It sounds like a good time. Let's do it."
I place my hands on my hips and raise an eyebrow. "You sure you're up for it? It's not your usual scene, you know."
He chuckles, clearly amused by my challenge. "Quinn, I've faced boardrooms full of cutthroat executives. I think I can handle a night out at a local bar."
I laugh, feeling my heart swell with affection for this man who's opened up his world to me, and now is willing to step into mine. "Alright then, it's a date."
"Looking forward to it," Ezra replies, his voice warm and genuine.
I leave his office with a smile on my face, my excitement for the weekend growing by the second.
The evening finally arrives, and I can feel the butterflies dancing in my stomach as I slip into a casual yet alluring outfit. I choose a deep red off-the-shoulder blouse that accentuates my curves and pair it with black skinny jeans and ankle boots. Ezra, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that highlights his broad shoulders, offers me a crooked smile as we head out the door.
Paige is spending the weekend with her mother, so the night is all ours.
The moment I step into the bar, a wave of warmth washes over me, banishing the chill of the night. The dimly lit room is filled with a mixture of soft overhead lighting and the flickering glow of neon signs, casting an enchanting aura that seems to invite intimacy and connection.
As I glance around, I notice the eclectic mix of patrons. There are groups of friends huddled together, animatedly sharing stories and laughter. Couples are leaning in close, their whispered conversations punctuated by tender touches and stolen kisses. I see individuals lost in their thoughts, nursing drinks at the bar as they watch the world go by.
The rich scent of leather and aged wood mingles with the subtle perfume of the various colognes and fragrances worn by the patrons, creating an intoxicating aroma that fills my senses. The air is thick with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the low, sultry beats of the background music.
As Ezra leads me through the crowd, his hand warm and reassuring in mine, I notice the way people glance at us, some with curiosity, others with envy, and a few with disapproval. But none of that matters to me. All I see is the man beside me.
I spot Kate and her boyfriend at a high-top table near the back, and we weave our way through the crowd to join them.
"Quinn! Ezra!" Kate exclaims, her eyes twinkling with excitement as she hugs us both. "I'm so glad you guys could make it!"
As the conversation flows, our server approaches to take our orders. The friendly young woman flashes us a smile, her pen poised above her notepad, ready to jot down our requests.
Ezra hesitates for a moment, his eyes scanning the menu with a puzzled expression. It's clear that this dive bar is out of his comfort zone, and it's intriguing to see him navigating unfamiliar territory. His posture is slightly tense, and I can tell he's trying to figure out what to order in a place that doesn't offer the upscale dishes he's used to.
"I'll have the... um," he stumbles, his hesitation giving away his uncertainty. "Do you have any charcuterie boards or perhaps a plate of oysters?"
The server raises an eyebrow, stifling a chuckle. "I'm afraid not, sir. This is more of a wings and nachos kind of place."
Ezra's expression remains stoic, but he quickly recovers, offering a polite smile. "Ah, I see. Well, then, what exactly are buffalo chicken wings?" he asks, genuinely curious and unafraid to show his unfamiliarity with the dish.
The server explains the concept of buffalo wings, and Ezra nods in understanding. However, I can see the trepidation in his eyes at the prospect of eating them. "Alright, I'll try the buffalo chicken wings, please. And for my drink, do you have any 18-year-old single malt scotch?"
The server shakes her head apologetically. "Sorry, we don't carry anything like that here. Our whiskey selection is pretty limited. We've got Jack Daniel's, Jim Beam, and Jameson."
Ezra's eyes narrow slightly, clearly taken aback by the lack of options. He glances at me, seeking reassurance. I give him an encouraging nod, admiring his willingness to step outside his comfort zone for the sake of our night out.
