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2
Midnight. I still can’t sleep. Turns out adrenaline plus a healthy dose of flirting makes for one long, sleepless kind of night.
I pull out my phone and flip through my messages. I filled in my BFFs at work about the date already, blowing up our group text with details. They are appropriately shocked and appalled on my behalf. Andy even promises to buy my first round at our standing team happy hour on Thursday.
But by now, everyone’s long asleep. Well, except for Celeste, who’s out celebrating her boyfriend’s birthday, but I don’t want to bother her with more bored whining about how I’m still awake because dammit, I can’t stop thinking about tonight.
You’d think it would be the stalker distracting me, keeping me up. Instead, it’s images of Zayne. His piercing blue eyes as he looked me over, made sure I was okay after that attack. The flirty glint in those same eyes when he told me I needed a man who treats me right. Someone who will give me whatever I desire.
I shiver and roll back over in bed. Tap on the little icon for the dating app. If nothing else, it will occupy my mind. Distract me from thinking thoughts I should definitely not be thinking about my doorman.
Like what those strong arms would feel like wrapped around me, or what his lips would taste like on mine. Not to mention, judging by the size of his hands, he’s got to be packing a pretty nice package in those uniform pants…
I scold myself internally and focus on the app. Don’t think about him.
I try to force him out. Try to focus on the guys scrolling past on my screen instead. But staring at boring finance bro after boring finance bro gets old. They all have the same photos on their profiles, I swear. Shirtless pic to display their no doubt carefully gym-cultivated abs, another pic of them drinking beer with their bros to prove they have friends, one carefully cropped photo with their arm around someone not in the image, to prove that they’ve dated chicks before (or at least known them long enough to trick them into taking a photo together), and one definitely posed headshot that shows off their cheekbones at the best possible angle. The latter may or may not be heavily edited—it varies by dude.
None of them add much detail to their profiles beyond that. They’re all full of one-line quotes, usually from action movies. That, or witticisms such as “I’m the one you’ve been looking for.” Very convincing.
I swipe left through at least a dozen profiles, and I’m debating giving up and just rolling back over to try and sleep when a different image pops up. Unlike most of the other guys, this photo appears to be a candid one, un-posed. He’s looking past the photographer, at something in the background. He’s standing on a street corner I recognize, just a few blocks away, outside my favorite deli. He probably took this on a lunch run, or maybe before his shift started.
I can guess, because I know the guy.
It’s Zayne.
I tap open his profile. There are only three photos. The first one, the candid, shows off his cheekbones at just the right angle, not to mention really accentuates his sharp blue eyes catching the Manhattan sunlight so they seem to glow in the photo. Then there’s another picture of him indoors—his apartment maybe? I spot a cozy-looking striped blanket and a cat curled up on his lap, though he’s not posing with it, just kind of reclining and letting the cat chill there. This one isn’t a candid—he’s smiling at whoever’s taking it. The effect is that it looks like he’s gazing straight out of my phone at me. I feel two things simultaneously—a red-hot fire in the pit of my belly and an equally strong and startling sensation of jealousy. Whoever took this photo, I hate them. For no other reason than that Zayne was smiling at them like that.
Damn.
Calm down, Clove, I scold myself.
The third photo is at a beach somewhere. There’s a few guys in the photo, but unlike most dudes’ profiles, I can pick Zayne out immediately. He stands out like that, impossible to look away from. He’s in the middle of a volleyball game, mid-jump in fact, and goddamn, does it make his body stand out. He’s in swimming trunks of course, and it highlights perfectly the washboard cut of his abs, straight down to the muscular V pointing down to his groin.
I swallow hard and find myself wishing that my phone had a higher resolution display. I’d like to zoom in on this photo, see exactly where that V is pointing, if you can see the outline of him through those trunks…
I shake myself. Tap back on his profile page.
“The only people for me are the mad ones.”
I grin. Okay, sure, maybe an On the Road quote is a little bit cliché, but there’s something almost adorable about it here.
Plus, he reads. That’s a bonus.
And, I have to laugh at his username. AtYourService. Fitting for a doorman.
I hesitate, finger hovering over the screen. I remember the stern talking-to I gave myself in the lobby earlier tonight. This is a bad idea.
But I rarely ever listen to myself. Especially not when confronted with a guy like Zayne. So I slide my thumb right, and hit yes on him.
My phone buzzes almost immediately.
You have a new match!
He already swiped right on me too.
I lick my lips. Open the chat window that’s popped up. My fingers hover over the keys. What do I say? Thanks again for saving my ass tonight? You look better without the uniform?
Then again, he looks pretty damn good in the uniform, too.
