Before I can protest anymore, Nichole leans forward, plants a kiss on my cheek, and then takes off towards the jock who is waiting for her. I’m happy that she found something to do tonight. It is her birthday, after all. It just sucks that she’s basically throwing me to the wolves.
On the one hand, I don’t want to talk with anyone else right now. But on the other, I don’t want to just stand here by the jukebox and look like an idiot. So I toss back the rest of my drink and head over to the counter, waving the bartender over for a refill.
While I wait for the drink to be mixed, I look over at the crowd. It seems that there are only college students in here, which makes sense. But since I want to avoid all of the grabbing hands, I decide to head over to the older guy that I pointed out earlier. He looks over the moment that I slide on the stool.
“Well, I suppose I can’t offer to buy you a drink,” he tells me. “There goes my attempt at a pickup line.”
I tilt the glass at him. “Were you really going to open with that?”
“No,” he says, dryly. “I try not to steal from the college kids. They might not understand the concept of plagiarizing, but I can’t promote it.”
The joke catches me off guard, knocking a laugh out of me. I’m on my second drink at this point, not anywhere near drunk, but after guzzling my first, there’s warmth starting to spread under my skin.
“I’m not in college yet,” I tell him. “I guess that means I can’t use it either.”
“You don’t look that young.” His eyes examine my face.
“I’m not. I’m twenty-four. I guess I’m just a late bloomer,” I tell him, with a shrug. The truth is, I’ve been mourning. I guess that sums it up pretty well. Since I lost James, the whole world has rushed past me while I just stand there. Four years ago, I had everything I could ever dream of. I had found the love of my life and we were traveling around the world, planning to return home and start a new chapter in our life together. College was just the beginning. But he was gone before… He was gone and I was left behind. Literally. It took a long time before I even considered coming back here, yet here I am, starting over. I’m glad for my choice but it does make for awkward conversations.
“Nothing wrong with a late bloomer,” the man says. He holds out his hand. “I’m Dylan.”
“Abby.” I give him a shake in return, pleased with the manners. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy to come out here very often.”
He nods. “I was going to meet my brother for a drink, but he’s—” Dylan glances at his watch. “Forty minutes late and not picking up the phone, so I’m going to assume that he fell asleep.”
I wince. “Ouch.”
“It’s fine. He’s got a lot going on. And if he was here, I wouldn’t be able to sit with you,” says Dylan. He turns a little bit more towards me. The guy is extremely good looking, even though he’s older than me.
I smile, unsure of what to say next. Flirting is not on my skills list. James was my high school sweetheart. We had been together since we were fifteen and he proposed when we were nineteen. My thumb goes to my ring finger, caressing the missing ring.
I may be smiling but that familiar restlessness is washing over me. James always pops into my mind when I meet someone new, the comparison pretty much ending the conversation immediately.
My fiancé was amazing. He was not much taller than me, if at all, and had long blonde hair and light blue eyes. Right now, James would have been the same age as the guy that Nichole is talking to.
Dylan is the exact opposite. He has a great smile, a deep voice, and sexy, dark brown eyes. He’s taller than me—I have to look up to him even though we’re both sitting—and his muscles tense under his shirt.
I think that’s what makes it easier for me to fall into a back-and-forth conversation with him. We don’t talk about anything specific. It’s the same kind of bar talk that you would expect out of two people that have already had a few drinks—but something about it just makes me happy.
“Finally,” he says as a new song starts playing. Nichole’s playlist has come to an end.
I look at my empty glass, seriously considering getting another drink. He moves closer, his hand covering mine. It burns under his touch, but I don’t move away.
“I think I’ll get another drink,” I whisper. I need that warm relaxation now more than any other time. “Not here,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m going to get out of here when I finish this beer.”
He tilts the bottle towards me. “Do you want to take off with me?”
The question catches me completely off guard, my mouth popping open. Before I get a chance to gather myself and respond, warm hands press against my bare shoulders.
“Hang on, Mister. The birthday girl has to steal this one!” Nichole chirps.
She pulls me back to the jukebox. “How did you know I needed a save?”
Nichole blinks. “I mean, I’m going to take the compliment, but I actually stole you for a totally selfish reason.” She gives me another one of those guilty smiles. “Danny is heading out to another bar with his friends, and I was going to, you know, go with them? But I didn’t want to just leave you here, so… Do you want me to call you a cab?”
I stare at her. “I knew you were going to ditch me.”
“I mean—birthday exemption?” Nichole asks, doe eyed. “Come on, don’t be mad.”