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Thankfully, he shrugged and gave her half of a smile that she suspected would have wobbled her knees at full wattage. “Waiting for someone special.”
It felt like a line, and despite herself, she fell for it.
She sank onto the stool next to him, which was somehow empty in the bustling crowd.
“I’d ask what you are doing here too, but you’ve already told me as much with the birthday party. Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
She looked down at her waning pink champagne bubbling with only half the gusto of when Lila had handed it to her. She imagined it had gone warm in her nervous hand. She set the glass on the bar and decided to see where saying yes to this friendly stranger would lead her.
“Sure.”
“Great. I actually have a talent for guessing people’s favorite drinks.”
He had started with a line and shamelessly moved to a gimmick, and Gemma normally would have called him on it or rolled her eyes, but something about him left her willing to follow his lead.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. Watch, I’ll show you.”
He threw up a hand and waved at the bartender. Gemma noted how long his arm was and that he wore a vintage watch on his wrist. She saw no discernible tattoos in the band of skin between his watch and the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt, which of course didn’t mean that he didn’t have them elsewhere. She had grown accustomed to expectingink on men in L.A., especially ones hanging out in bars like this.
“You strike me as someone who prefers a classy cocktail, probably something bitter.”
She bit her lip instead of telling him he was right.
“Am I warm?” he said with a smile at the look on her face.
The bartender, a man who indeed did have tattoos decorating his arms, materialized and nodded at them.
The man with the watch and shining eyes and killer smile—who still didn’t have a name—gave Gemma a coy grin before turning to place the order.
“Two Negronis, please.”
Gemma’s mouth popped open. She managed to close it by the time the bartender nodded and whisked off.
“How’d I do?” the man beside her asked.
“That’s my favorite drink,” she confessed, too shocked to summon any flirtatious banter.
He proudly shrugged a shoulder. “Told you I was good at it.”
She shook herself and regained her bearings. “Maybe it was a lucky guess.”
“Or maybe not,” he said with a grin.
Right then, a pop song that instantly took Gemma back to the free-spirited, early days of college came on the house speakers. Every lyric came back to her even though she hadn’t heard the song in ages. She knew if she caught Lila’s eye, she’d get a knowing wink and they’d mouth the chorus to each other across the room.
“Did I miss something?” the man asked, and Gemma realized she was grinning like a fool.
“Oh, I just love this song. I haven’t heard it in a long time, and it always puts me in a good mood.”
“Is that so? Well, looks like we’re stumbling into all sorts of luck tonight.”
The bartender returned with their drinks.
He lifted his in toast. “To luck and all the good fortune it brings.”
Gemma lifted her glass to clink his and paused. “Wait. I don’t even know your name. I feel like it’s bad luck to share a toast without knowing.”
