Chapter Two
1405 Words
The night didn’t start anything close to crazy and that was the funny part.
It started with me sitting at the bar, staring into a glass of something brown, wondering how my life kept managing to scare me even when things were going well.
“I still don’t understand why you’re nervous,” Layla said, tapping her nails against her own drink. “You got the job.”
“I got the job,” I agreed. “That’s exactly why I’m nervous.”
She rolled her eyes. “You stress yourself for sport.”
I shrugged. “I prefer to call it preparation.”
“For what,” she asked. “Doom.”
“Yes.”
She laughed and clinked her glass against mine. “Drink. Celebrate. You start work tomorrow. You’re officially a corporate babe now.”
“I hate that phrase.”
“You love it.”
“I do not.”
She grinned. “You really do.”
I took a sip and made a face. “This tastes awful.”
“You ordered it.”
“Well I trusted the bartender.”
“And that—was your first mistake.”
I glanced around the bar. It was louder than I expected, with the music and people dancing together. Many of which I'm sure didn't know each other. Lots of laughter around. I didn’t recognize anyone, which helped me a bit.
“I’m only staying an hour,” I said.
Layla raised a brow. “You say that every time.”
“And every time I mean it.”
She checked her phone and sighed. “I’m going to the restroom. Don’t disappear.”
“I won’t,” I said. “Where would I go.”
She gave me a look. “Men exist.”
“Unfortunately.”
She laughed and walked off, leaving me alone with my drink and my thoughts.
That was when he spoke.
“You’re holding that glass of Vodka as if it offended you.”
This was Vodka? That explains the terrible taste. Regardless I turned around already annoyed, and ready to shut him down.
Then I paused.
Not because he was fine, although he was. Not because he smiled, he barely did actually.
It was his tone.
It was calm and lacking effort. Like a smooth criminal typa thing.
“I didn’t realize it showed,” I said.
“It does,” he replied. “You’ve been glaring at it for a while.”
“Maybe it deserves it.”
He tilted his head. “Terrible taste?”
“Very.”
“Then why finish it.”
“I paid for it.”
“That explains the anger.”
I huffed a laugh before I could stop myself. “You’re quite the observer.”
“I try.”
I turned back to the bar. “Do you always comment on strangers’ drinking habits.”
“Only when they look stressed.”
I glanced at him. “Do I?”
“Yes. Yes you do.”
“Well that’s unfortunate.”
He shrugged. “It happens.”
I took another sip and regretted it instantly. Why do I keep making terrible decisions.
“Let me guess,” he said. “New job.”
I froze. “How did you know.”
“Your outfit,” he said. “You’re dressed a little too serious for someone seeking to relax.”
I looked down at myself. “This is relaxed.”
“Then I would hate to see you formal.”
I smiled. “You’re annoying.”
“Noted.”
We paused for a minute.
“What do you do,” I asked.
He hesitated. “Business.”
“That’s vague.”
“It keeps conversations short.”
“I don’t mind long ones.”
He studied me for a moment. “What about you.”
“Also business,” I said. “Apparently.”
“Apparently?”
“Office job. Secretary role.”
“Excited?”
“Terrified.”
He nodded once. “Reasonable.”
Layla returned then, sliding back into her seat.
“Who’s this,” she asked with a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“No one,” I said quickly.
He glanced at me. “Ouch.”
Layla laughed. “I’m Layla.”
He gave a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“You here alone?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“Layla,” I warned.
“What,” she said. “I’m—just observing.”
“I thought you said you were celebrating,” he said.
“We are,” Layla replied. “She’s just bad at it.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” she insisted. “She hates surprises.”
“I love surprises.”
“You cried when your phone updated.”
“That was emotional.”
He smiled briefly again.
Layla leaned closer to me. “I’m going to mingle. Don’t leave.”
“I won’t,” I said.
She winked at him. “Take care of her.”
“I can manage myself,” I snapped.
“I believe that,” he said, once Layla walked away.
I sighed. “She means well.”
“She does.”
We ordered another round. And this one tasted better.
“Why secretary?” he asked.
“I like order,” I said. “Even if my life refuses to cooperate.”
“That explains the stress.”
“Does it.”
“Yes.”
“Are you always this calm.”
“Usually.”
“That must be nice.”
“It is.”
We talked for a while, nothing too deep. Just long enough to pass time.
I told him about my commute nightmares. He told me about hating meetings. I complained about office politics. He listened without interrupting.
“I think CEOs are overrated,” I said at one point.
He raised a brow. “That’s a strong opinion.”
“They get paid for other people’s work.”
“Some do,” he said.
“Most,” I insisted.
He smiled faintly. “You sound certain.”
“I am.”
“Fair.”
I checked my phone and it was getting late.
“I should go,” I said.
He nodded. “You should.”
I stood up hesitantly.
“You live far,” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Safe ride.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Another pause.
“I don’t think you’re running toward anything tonight,” he said quietly. “Feels more as if you’re escaping.”
I stopped and sat back down.
“That was unnecessary,” I muttered.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. Not that,” I said. “It was more of—accurate.”
Silence.
“Come over,” he said. “That is If you want to.”
I studied him. “Rules.”
“One night,” he replied. “No names.”
I nodded. “No expectations.”
“Agreed.”
His place was neat. Almost intimidating.
I kicked off my shoes. “You live alone?”
“Yes.”
“That tracks.”
He poured out water into a glass and handed me.
“Thank you.”
We stood there within close proximity. Although we weren't touching.
“You’re nervous,” he said.
“I don’t usually do this.”
“Then why stay.”
I looked at him. “Because I want to.”
That was enough.
He moved towards me, closing up the space between us quickly and kissed me. Surprisingly I kissed him back almost immediately.
He deepened the kiss and lifted me with ease as we moved to the couch. His hands roamed my body gently and somehow I felt like it was meant to be there.
We broke the kiss for some air and ended up in small laughter.
“Still okay,” he asked.
“Yes.”
He rested his forehead against mine.
“This stays here,” he said.
“It will.”
He kissed me again and lifted me off the couch.
When we pulled apart my heart was racing.
He nudged his head towards the hallway and I instantly understood. I responded with a light nod for confirmation.
When we reached the bedroom, he stopped.
“Last chance,” he said.
I met his eyes with certainty. “I’m staying.”
- Writer
