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The tension in my shoulders isn’t going to disappear anytime soon. I know it and there’s nothing I can do about it right now. There was a time when going out with my coworkers was something I looked forward to, but it hasn’t been much fun in the last year or so.
It’s like there’s something missing, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I know it’s not my job—I love what I do. Teaching is the only thing I’ve ever been good at, and I love helping the kids I teach learn something new. I’m content with where I am in terms of my career.
My parents are good and normal. Well, not completely normal since they can’t seem to remember that even though I’m an adult, I’m not interested in seeing how much they love each other. All the time.
It’s not as off putting as it used to be when I was growing up. Now I realize they taught me what I want in a relationship. I want the kind of love they have. I want those looks of devotion they shoot each other. If they weren’t my parents, I could, maybe, even admit I want the way they can’t keep their hands off each other.
They gave me a good foundation and not only in terms of what love looks like. They made sure I grew up respecting people around me and the importance of manners. I’ve always been the good guy, the nice guy, the one who has been steady and even.
It’s not a bad thing.
That whole idea of the good guy not getting the girl? It hasn’t been true for me. I’ve never had a problem getting a date or having a relationship. I’ve had quite a few in my 30 years, but they never stuck.
Hell, I’m still friends with more than one of my exs. We didn’t work out, that didn’t make either of us bad people. It just wasn’t meant to be more and there wasn’t a future there. No hard feelings.
I was never the guy who wanted to rack up as many women in my bed as I could, even though I could have been. I just didn’t see the point. Why would I want to bed hop when I could have higher quality pleasure?
The kind of pleasure you get when you know someone’s body and you feel comfortable with them—comfortable to push their boundaries and your own by exploring.
Maybe that’s what has been off with me lately. It’s been too long since I’ve spent some time with a woman. I just haven’t met someone who has interested me, and I realize I’m at the point in my life when wasting my time on someone who isn’t going to be forever doesn’t work for me.
If that makes me sound pathetic then I’m more than okay with it.
John and Stan have big grins on their faces when we get into the main room of Aces, one of the hottest clubs in Denver. I’ve never been here before, but I’ve heard about it. As I look around the room, taking in the Victorian feel with speakeasy touches, I can understand why it’s so popular. It feels swanky and cozy at the same time.
Stan claps me on the back even though he’s not looking at me. No, his eyes are trained on the dance floor and the surrounding lounge areas. I have no doubt he’s looking for the next woman to warm his bed. He’s a good guy, but he definitely doesn’t have a problem with looking for quantity when it comes to women.
More power to him, I suppose. I think if my name was Stanley, I’d have gone that way too. I chuckle under my breath thinking, again, how unfortunate it is for a man my age to be named Stan.
His eyes snap to mine and gives me a crooked grin. “This place is ripe with some damn fine women.” I roll my eyes and he shoots me a look. “Come on, you can’t say it hasn’t been too long since you’ve gotten laid."
"Not interested in getting laid,” I shoot back.
John, who doesn’t look like he teaches high school chemistry, huffs out a laugh and joins in with the goading, “Doesn’t mean you don’t need it though, man.”
I keep my mouth shut because it’s useless. John isn’t as bad as Stan, who teaches physical education, but they’re definitely similar when it comes to women. I shrug and then follow when Stan clears a path toward the bar.
Now, a drink after this long ass week? That is something I can get behind.
Stan and John walk right up to the bar and I look between them to see an attractive redhead working on this side, a smile on her face as she works through the people ordering. When there’s a shift and I’m able to step up, I look down to the other side of the bar and my heart fucking stops.
The woman on the other end has red hair, but not just red. It’s red and orange fire, like she’s been engulfed in flames. Fuck. Everything in me wants to be burned by her, seared so I can never forget who she is. Her eyes come up and look at me, our gazes locking even though I can’t see the color of her eyes.
She might as well reach inside my chest and grab ahold of my heart because in a single moment, a single glance, she’s done something to me. I can’t explain it and I know no one would probably believe me. But this woman?
She’s mine.
All mine.
“What can I get you?”
I blink a few times and the woman at the other end of the bar turns toward someone ordering a drink on her side. It breaks our connection, but I swear I can still feel the flames licking at my skin. My body is on high alert and I’m hot. So fucking hot. It has nothing to do with the temperature in Aces either.
“You okay?”
My focus shifts to the woman in front of me, her eyebrows pulled together and her eyes full of concern. Was she talking to me? What the fuck just happened?
“Uh,” I hold the word out, trying to get my shit together, “sorry. Yeah.”
