Texting? Working? Who cares?
Turning my attention to the server, I realize she isn’t the one that’s been helping us tonight, but she’s the one who served me the last time I was here.
“Um, yes?” I ask, my voice uncertain.
Her smile is sly, and I feel my embarrassment rise knowing that she recognizes me too.
“The gentleman at the bar sent this over to you,” she states.
I’m about to ask what she’s talking about, but she’s already lowering a steaming white mug down to the table.
What-
I watch as she sets it on the surface directly in front of me.
Coffee?
My mouth goes dry.
Is…?
Could it be…?
The server walks away before I’m able to form an actual question.
“You ordered coffee?” my date asks, judgment clear in his tone.
I swallow and nod, not sure how else to answer.
Slowly, I raise my eyes from the mug. Only I don’t look at the man sitting across from me, I let my gaze travel past him and to the long bar situated not more than 20 feet away. Could Axel really be here? Is it possible he’s been this close, and I didn’t know? That I didn’t feel him?
My heart starts to beat wildly, my eyes skipping from one seated form to the next.
But it’s not him.
None of them are him.
Panic starts to crawl up my spine.
What if I missed him?
Or am I reading the message wrong?
Could he have sent this coffee as afuck youfor going out with another man.
I’m already pushing my chair back from the table – prepared to sprint to the parking lot in search of him – when motion at the edge of my vision halts me.
On the far side of the bar, moving towards the back hallway, is a man.
A large, lumbering man, with shoulders wide enough to hide behind and hair that’s showingjust enoughgrey.
“Where are you going?” my date calls after me as I stand. But I don’t reply. I can’t.
My pulse is thundering in my eardrums as I quicken my pace, tracing Axel’s footsteps.
Ahead of me, he turns down the hall that I know leads to the bathrooms.
He has to know I’m following. He wants me to follow.