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“Seriously?”
“I’ll Make Love to You,” Boys II Men.
Shania Twain, “You’re Still the One.”
Okay this is fucking bullshit. How many more signs do I need?
I turn off the stereo and finish the rest of my meal. It would seem that the gods of the universe have their own ideas, and apparently that idea would require me finding this guy and getting our shit together, except what do you do when someone doesn’t want to be found? I grab my plate and scrape the leftover contents into the trash, then place the plate in the dishwasher. I’ve never been in this kind of funk before, ever. And is it really a funk?He’s the one who just got his shit and left me with no explanation––a note doesn’t fucking count as an explanation, not even fucking close. I do a quick check of the time, seven thirty. It’s still early for a Saturday night, and no doubt the streets in town would be buzzing at this hour. If I had any hope of getting myself out of this funk tonight, what I needed was a good stiff drink or two––or maybe several and a night out to a club, if it would mean blocking Mr. Stranger aka Dylan out of my mind for good. Even if I didn’t want to. But I have to do something because fuck if I’m just going to sit here with the constant reminders and subtle hints of what I could or should do. I reach for my keys but think twice. If I’m going to have a few drinks, it would be best to order a cab because I can’t get an Uber out this way. After dialing the number to the cab company, I quickly go to my room to find some clothes to wear. I grab my black denim jeans, which are torn at the knees, a white tee that is skintight, and my black leather biker boots. I change into my outfit, check the location of the cab on my app, and when I see the driver turn into my street, I grab my keys and head out the door.
“Hey, hot stuff.” The tall blue-eyed man with the broad shoulders, and leanly muscled frame that’s evident in his button-up shirt, rubs his body up against mine. “I haven’t seen you in here before. Are you new in town?”
Fuck me! A throaty, deep baritone voice and drop dead gorgeous. “Are people seriously still using that line?” I yell above the music.
“Depends, is it working?”
He leans in closer, then wraps his hands around my waist pulling me in closer toward him until I can feel his hard-on jabbing me in my lower back. I wriggle around, dancing to the music and he mirrors my moves. He leans in to kiss my neck, but I pull myself away.
“I could really use a drink,” I say, moving toward the bar.
He follows and sits down on the empty seat beside me. I order a gin and tonic from the bartender, hand him my credit card and watch as he swipes it through the reader. Mr. Handsome sitting beside me orders some cocktail that I’ve never even heard of before, but it sounded really complicated and very alcoholic. The bartender slides the drinks our way a few minutes later, and as I take a sip of my gin and tonic, the man sitting beside me places a hand on my thigh. I do nothing at first and simply stare at it before bringing my attention back to my drink. The guy is strikingly handsome, a lot taller than me and obviously in the mood for a good time tonight.I can definitely picture his long legs wrapped around me for sure.
When I woke up this morning and saw Carter lying there naked beside me in bed, I had a moment of weakness and I panicked. My ex-boyfriend hurt me really bad, and when Mr. Wonderful rescued me from the side of the road, took me back to the hotel and fucked the ever-loving crap out of me, I freaked out. I’m not the type of guy who sleeps around, but the two of us were caught in a moment of weakness. I guess it didn’t help that I admitted I was attracted to him the moment I stepped into his car, but like I said, I was angry after what my ex had done to me, and I guess I was just looking for an excuse to erase him from my mind. And I’ve never had an instantaneous attraction like that with anyone before, not even my ex. It took us several weeks before we finally agreed to sleep with one another, and most of the time I took it bareback, which is why I had no issues with it last night.
Perhaps leaving a note was a coward thing to do, but I couldn’t stay there and wait around for him to wake up because God knows how I would have reacted or what I would have said. Just the thought of him and everything he was doing to me last night has my cock reacting in a way that makes me shift on my chair.
“Everything okay?” the man sitting beside me asks.
“Yeah, fine,” I assure him, even though I haven’t convinced myself yet.
“So, do you have a boyfriend?”
After taking a sip of my drink, I lower my glass and say, “Would I be here in a gay bar, on a Saturday night, with a mysterious man sitting next to me at a bar, if I did have a boyfriend?”
“Oooh, someone’s a little touchy.”
“No, I’m just stating the fucking obvious.”
“Okay, but you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”
“Look, nobody asked you to sit here, so if you don’t like it, you can just get up and leave,” I say.
He gives me a death glare. I bring the glass back to my lips and down the rest of the contents before gesturing to the bartender for another round. The man mutters something under his breath, and when I turn around to face him, he raises his glass and throws the contents all over my face.
“Asshole.”
He slams the glass on the bar, and I watch him weave through the crowd until I can’t see him anymore. The man behind the bar hands me a dishcloth and I wipe my face with it.
“Thanks,” I say.
I place the cloth back on the bar, get off my seat and proceed toward the bathroom, brushing the liquid off my clothes with my hands. Once I’m inside the bathroom, I turn on the faucet and splash some cold water all over my face. I grab some paper towels and dab my face, tossing them in the trash as I wander back out into the club. Well, this evening is turning out to be perfect. Just fucking perfect. I make my way back to the bar and take a seat on one of the vacant stools. I contemplate ordering more alcohol but instead choose the safer option of a Pepsi. I should’ve known better than to come here when my head is full of nothing but guilt. That, combined with liquor, and a gorgeous guy trying to make a pass on you when you’re clearly not interested, is a recipe for disaster.
The truth is, since leaving the hotel this morning, I haven’t been able to think about anything else except Carter. And this is the exact thing I was trying to avoid, the day after guilty feeling of a hot-as-fuck, one-night stand. These situations always end badly, and I told myself I’d never put myself in that position.
And how’s that working out for you, Dylan?
I let out a frustrated sigh, place both my arms on the table and bring my head down on top of them.
“A Manhattan, strong,” I hear someone say to my left.
