“Oh.” The word hung in the air as my lungs exhaled every last molecule of oxygen.
Chris leaned his back against the window, folding his arms across his chest. I tried not to consider the fact that he completely took my breath away. The deep dimple in his cheek was accentuated by the charming, half grin that stayed glued to his face while he watched me self-consciously fidget with the single strand of hair, twisting it around my finger. His fitted, black Wornstar thermal shirt hugged just the right places, emphasized his sculpted pecs and muscular biceps. His jeans, with their sharply contrasted stitches, highlighted areas that I tried my best not to notice. Averting my gaze from his obvious amusement of my ogling eyes and wringing hands, I once again glanced toward windows and soaked in the beauty of the city.
Chris cleared his throat, attempting to alleviate the awkwardness. “So, can I get you something to drink? A beer? Soda?”
I didn’t really drink beer often, but I needed something to take the edge off my nerves. “Sure, a beer sounds great,” I said with relief.
He turned around to walk toward the refrigerator and my eyes were immediately drawn to the intricately designed pockets that called attention to his ass. Holy… I quickly glanced away before he noticed me staring.
Chris popped the top off the beer and handed me the bottle. “Cheers,” he said, and chinked his own bottle against mine.
“To a great evening,” I told him, trying to hide my guilt for feeling the least bit attracted to him.
“To a great evening,” he echoed, his eyes penetrating me with something I couldn’t discern.
I took a few gulps, hoping the alcohol would kick in soon and soothe my frazzled nerves.
We sat down at the table to eat the meals we’d brought from the restaurant, neither of us realizing how hungry we were until then.
After a few quiet minutes, Chris looked up from his nearly empty box. “I’m really glad you came with me tonight. It’s nice to have some quiet time without eager fans hounding me for autographs. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy every minute of it. I love my fans, but sometimes I just like to have a meal without disruption. Know what I mean?”
Between bites, I said, “I hear you. I can only imagine how tough the life of a musician is.” Then pointing at my half-eaten wrap, I added, “by the way, this gyro is delicious.”
Chris nodded excitedly. “I know. I love Acropolis, and the owners are so nice. I always try to hit up that restaurant at least once while I’m in town.”
“Well, I’m glad you chose that place. This food is to die for.”
Chris smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
As soon as we were finished eating, Chris cleared the table and threw away the trash. “Come, sit,” he said, motioning for me to follow him into the living room.
Plush, leather sofas beckoned me with soft, colorful accent pillows, so I sank down onto it, eager to get comfortable.
Sitting on the loveseat opposite of me, Chris took another swig from his beer. He seemed more relaxed, and so was I. “So… tell me more about what’s been going on with you lately? The whole single mom thing? You didn’t really go into many details earlier.”
I took another sip of my own beer, trying to collect my thoughts. “Well, Graham and I got divorced several months ago. It was an ugly battle,” I told him.
Chris shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
Lowering the beer to my lap, I wondered if I should just tell him everything or give him a few cryptic details and move on. The battle was so ugly that I struggled to talk about it sometimes, which was laughable because I was a counselor. I could coax just about anything out of anyone, but I had a hard time talking about my own problems. “Well,” I explained, “Graham and I have had our differences for quite some time. Frankly, I don’t know why I tried to hold our marriage together all those years.” I glanced down at the half-peeled label. Honestly, I’d cried all the tears I had over the past year and half. Now they ran dry as far as Graham was concerned.
“Oh.” Chris fumbled for words, looking away.
“No, it’s okay.” I shrugged. “Like I said, it’s for the best, really. I’m much happier now than I was even six months ago.”
A flicker of a smile returned. “Well, that’s good news, I guess. I just hate that you had to go through that.”
I returned a grin, scooping up scraps of the label that collected on my jeans. “Thanks. I appreciate it. So, tell me about you. What’s been going on in your life?” I asked.
“Well, long story short, I got out of juvie. Moved to the beach. Played gigs on the weekends. Got my first big break. Been on the road ever since.”