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Fucking hell. I wasn’t going to mention it.
One corner of her mouth curves upward. It’s a tease of a smile, a shift I wouldn’t have even noticed if I wasn’t studying her expression so closely. “I lost the ticket.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Sophia looks down at her glass. Swishes the clear contents round a couple of times before she looks up and smirks. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
“What kind of girl is that?” Without realizing, I fully turned toward her, drawn into her orbit like a planet circling the sun. So close that I can see she has a few freckles sprinkled on her shoulders as well.
“The casual sex kind of girl. And you seem like the casual sex sort of guy.” She raises a challenging eyebrow, daring me to deny it, and it’s hot as hell. “Was I wrong?”
“Is there a guy who doesn’t enjoy casual sex?”
No drama. No expectations. No complications.
Sophia nods. “That’s what I thought.”
We stand and stare at each other, energy buzzing beneath my skin and in the air around us.
Do I want to kiss her? Touch her? Fuck her?
Absolutely.
But none of that can happen, and I’ve accepted that. She just ensured that, and I’m grateful. But this…interest hasn’t faded. Neither has the pull to continue talking to her, even though I know it won’t end with sex. I enjoy being around her, which I rarely experience with women unless we’re fucking. Which I rarely experience with anyone, actually. I’ve always been popular, but a lone wolf. Part of why I got the tattoo on my forearm rather than an ode to Seattle’s mascot, the way most people assume.
I shove the lust far, far away and refocus on her.
Words are harmless.
“I don’t know German,” I say.
“I mean, I assumed since we’re talking in English.”
I scoff. “Coming here wasn’t…planned. And it’s looking like I’ll be here awhile. Few months at least. My apartment is empty, and so is my fridge. I don’t have a car or know where to go shopping.”
“Buy a guidebook,” she suggests, then sips her drink.
“I’m more of an auditory learner. If you were willing to show me around—once—I’d appreciate it.”
Even for me, this is impulsive. I know nothing about this girl, except she hates soccer and her last name is Beck. But her last name means she grew up here. Means she knows this city a lot better than I ever will. I’m not going to ask a teammate for help. Shawn’s an ocean away, and he would laugh at the idea of assisting me with something like this. I’m not just unaccustomed to asking for help, I avoid it at all costs. But it’s easy, asking her.
And…I want to ensure I see her again. Just once more. Then, I’ll forget about her.
Twin lines wrinkle Sophia’s forehead as she studies me. “You want me to be your tour guide? We don’t even know each other.”
That’s the point.
If she did know me, know why I was here, she’d probably be disgusted.
“Does it get you in trouble?” Her sly tone echoes in my head, and I reconsider. I can’t get a clear read on her, figure out if she scares easily, and it’s part of the fascination.
But the furrow in her brow is deepening, and that’s my answer. She doesn’t even know me, probably thinks I ended up here after chasing a work promotion or something, and she’s hesitating.
“Never mind. I’ll figure it out. Hope you have some fun tonight.”
Finally, I walk away.
Resisting the urge to look back with each step.
