“Out, huh? On a date?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It’s not a date. Speaking of, where are you headed dressed like that?” It’s the first time I’ve seen him in anything other than gym shorts or preppy schoolboy clothes. He actually looks nice in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark jeans. His face is freshly shaven and his hair is styled.
“Same as you. Out.”
I don’t inquire further, or care to carry on meaningless conversation, so we wait together quietly. The elevator arrives and we ride down in silence; neither of us have much to say, apparently. I press my body into the back corner while he stands up front near the doors. We arrive and the doors open. Always the gentleman, he stands back and holds the doors open while I exit first.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I step into the cool lobby.
“Do you have your phone?” he asks me as I begin walking away, catching me off guard.
“Yes.”
“Let me see it.”
“Why?”
“Just let me see it, Lindsay.”
I reach into my clutch, pull out the slim iPhone, and hand it to him. He swipes his finger, opening the screen, and begins tapping.
“First of all, put a passcode on this. Second, my number is in there. Call me if you need anything and be safe.” He hands me the phone and saunters away.
“I should be telling you to be safe,” I mutter.
He waves me off without ever turning back to look at me. That man is ballsy.
Pulling up to the nondescript building, I check the navigation system to be sure it has taken me to the right place. The parking lot is full and I can hear music, so this must be it. I check my lipstick and hair in the visor mirror one last time before stepping out into the torrid air. My leather pants are stuck to my legs and a light sheen of sweat instantly forms across my forehead and upper lip. I move quickly toward the large, wooden door, which has a flashing neon light hanging over it, screaming that the bar is open.
I pull open the heavy door and am greeted by a blast of cold air and the sounds of Justin Timberlake singing through the speakers. The bar is dimly lit and packed with bodies. Flashing lights from the dance floor make it hard to focus on finding anyone. I try to look for Mike over the sea of people and I squeeze in between sweaty bodies that are swaying to the music, excusing myself every few feet. I finally see Mike standing at a tall pub table that is surrounded by two other men.
“Lindsay!” Mike shouts as I approach. He leans in and presses a wet kiss to my cheek. “Look at you, gorgeous!” He lifts my hand above my head and twirls me around to look at me. “You look amazing in those pants.” I laugh at his fashion observation.
“Thanks, and look at you!” I raise my eyebrows at him. He’s wearing a skin-tight tank top and faded jeans. His arms are firm and muscular, but lean. He looks so different from how he dresses at the office in a shirt and tie. I notice a tattoo on his shoulder and make a mental note to ask him the meaning behind it.
“Nick, Javier, this is Lindsay. Lindsay, this is Nick and Javier.” Both men reach out to shake my hand. Nick is tall and slender with dark hair and trendy dark-rimmed glasses. His hair is styled back away from his face. His smile is slightly crooked, but he’s a good-looking man. Mike and Javier dance around the small table when the music changes and Lady Gaga starts piping through the speakers, leaving me with Nick.
“Don’t believe anything he tells you about me,” Nick says with a laugh as he leans in closer to me. “Only half of the stories are true.” The music is loud and it’s hard to hear in the bar. “Javier and Michael are adorable, aren’t they?” He changes the subject.
“I didn’t realize they were a couple, and did you just call him ‘Michael’?”
“He only goes by Mike at work. It’s more ‘masculine.’” He makes air quotes with his fingers and rolls his eyes. “And yes, they’ve been together about a year. Michael is lucky; just look at Javi.” Nick smacks his lips. Nick tosses back the remainder of his drink and slams the glass down on the table. “I’m going to go get another one. Can I get you anything while I’m there?”
“I’d love a vodka cranberry, please.” I reach into my clutch to pull out some cash.
“I’ve got this.” He waves off the cash that I try handing to him. I slide onto one of the tall stools that surround the pub table and laugh at Mike and Javier dancing and acting goofy. Lady Gaga’s crooning comes to an end and both men saunter over to the table, sweaty and laughing. Javi excuses himself and leaves Mike with me.