Sex Says(16)

Reed Luca



I didn’t even click out of the screen before another email popped up.



To: Reed Luca

From: Lola Sexton

Subject: It’s a date…

In your dreams. But, hey, whatever makes you feel better about paying.

Sincerely,

Lola Sexton



If she was even half the person she was in email, in person, I had a feeling I’d be dreaming about her plenty.




At eight fifteen, I started to wonder if Lola was going to show up. It wasn’t like she was hours late, but maybe her idea of the ultimate revenge was to arrange a meeting with me only to stand me up.

I wasn’t sure if that was the case, but I was sure that if it were, I would be disappointed. She might have been thinking off with his head when it came to me, but after our little war of emails, I felt decidedly on the other end of the scale.

Unable to sit in my apartment and wait any longer, I’d gotten here at seven thirty and pulled up a spot at the bar to drink a beer. This place had some of the best variety in the city, nearly fifteen beers on tap and even more to offer in ambiance.

It wasn’t too far from my place, but I wasn’t sure what kind of a hike it was for her.

It hadn’t bothered me at first, obviously, but the more I sat there, the worse I felt.

She was a woman, it wasn’t daylight anymore, and while San Francisco had many wonderful things to offer, it also had some not so nice ones.

It really wouldn’t sit well with me if I was the reason she ended up in a situation.

For the first time ever, I found myself kind of wishing I had a cell phone. Not that I have her number…

Turning to the door once more, my drumming fingers stopped midbeat. Lola.

I knew, with absolute certainty, the woman walking in the door was her.

Simple action—a woman walking into a bar—but it was crazy how much more remarkable it felt. It didn’t just feel like she was walking into Bitters, Bock & Rye—it felt like she was walking into my life.

An oversized T-shirt that had the words I’m a unicorn written across her left breast was the first thing I noticed, but it definitely wasn’t the last. Her cutoff shorts were short enough that the tips of the pockets stuck out below the hem, and the collar of the T-shirt hung off her shoulder to reveal one hot pink bra strap. Her hair was up and messy, shielding the side of her face as she turned back to laugh at what someone outside the door had said. Forest green, patent leather boots came up past her ankles, and a thick leather watch seemed to take up half the length of her arm.

But what I couldn’t stop seeing no matter how hard I tried was how much she looked at ease with it all. She was what she was—take it or leave it.

Her eyes scanned the line of the bar, starting with the end opposite of me and moved in calculated inspection.

One thing was blindingly obvious: she knew what I looked like, had more than noticed in the video. I could tell by the way she slowed down on the guys who resembled me and sped right across those who could be dismissed easily.

Her shoulders were back and confident, and the way she held her face said she was preparing for war.

But I wasn’t the kind of guy to wait for an opponent to strike.

Picking up my beer, I moved around the room to circle behind her and watched as I did. She was still looking for me, growing a little more agitated by the second, but I took my time. Studying everything about her and cataloging it for future reference—I had a feeling I was going to need every advantage I could get.

With the soft lighting of the restaurant igniting the hints of auburn and gold in her dark and wavy hair, she moved her lithe body with an effortless yet underlying playful saunter. The soft step of her boots against the tile worked with the rhythm of the indie rock music that played in the background, her eyes continuing to scan the room with determination. But of course, with me strategically behind her, she came up empty. Her nose scrunched up in this adorable little way to telegraph her frustration.

The more I watched her, the more I realized Lola embodied understated beauty.

It takes natural talent to look good when you’re pissed, and as the minutes ticked by, that part of her appearance wasn’t going to get any better.

Still, even knowing that, I took my time, categorizing expressions as they popped up.

Frustrated fury.

Helpless hopelessness.

Indignation with a side of I’ll fucking kill Reed Luca.

Each of them played across her mouth and projected from her eyes flawlessly. I doubted she even wore makeup, and beyond that, she showed no outward signs of aesthetic awareness. This girl was all about simplicity and doing what made her feel comfortable in her own skin. But she probably didn’t realize that it was those things that had everyone around her drawn in like smoke to a fan. Bachelors number three, four, and seven at the bar were damn near fixated on her every breath. She wasn’t just a pretty face; it was something intangible and rare that lit her big eyes and softened her features. And when she smiled and laughed, everyone around her couldn’t help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside.