Only One Mistake (Only One 6)

My hands tremble as I look back at my phone, trying not to focus on the sting of tears working their way up to my eyes. I blink away faster and faster to push it back.

My hands are clammy from sweat and nervousness as I pull up the text thread between Julia and me, taking a huge deep breath in.

Me: I’m giving him fifteen more minutes, and then I’m out.

Chapter 5

Michael

My eyes keep flying back to the bar every ten seconds, and I have to tell myself to knock that shit off. When she walked away from the table, I took a long look at her ass. And I mean long, her blond hair swaying left to right as she walked.

When she stood in front of me, I could tell she was nervous, and then when I said I wasn’t Zander, I could feel that she was mortified. She put on a brave face and then turned around. I spotted her a couple of minutes later, walking back to the bar and sitting down. She looked around a couple of times, but she was mostly on her phone, her fingers going crazy. The restaurant is packed to the brim, and I’m happy I came when I did. I’m also happier that no one knows who I am.

Spotting the hostess, I follow her with my eyes as she zigzags her way over to the bar. She stops next to the blue-eyed girl, and then I see her smile and push away from the bar, walking to the front door.

Maybe Zander finally arrived, I think to myself, looking at my phone and seeing that it’s seven forty-five. The asshole is forty-five minutes late, and he didn’t think to call her. I shake my head as the waitress comes over and hands me the small black folder with the bill inside. I take out my credit card and place it inside. My eyes focus on the entrance to see if the hostess comes back with the blonde.

I push away from the table before I even know what I’m doing and stop at the hostess stand. My eyes roam, and I see the blonde standing in the corner, facing out, with her arms crossed over her chest. Mind your own business, my head screams while something else screams, go get ’em, cowboy.

The hostess spots me and smiles at me as I walk past her. “Are you still waiting?” My voice comes out higher than I wanted it to come out. She turns, and I can see the tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to blink away the tears, and I know that is what she’s doing because I’ve seen Alex do it enough times in my life.

“You’re still waiting for Zander?” I ask, putting my hands in my pockets before I do something stupid like pull her in for a hug.

“I was,” she answers, putting her phone in her purse, “but I’m officially done waiting.” She tries to shrug it off, and I have a chance to look at her up close. His lips are full and plump and are dying to be kissed.

“Why don’t you come and let me buy you a drink?” I say the words before my brain even registers what’s coming out of my mouth.

The blonde stares at me with her mouth open, and I notice how slender her neck is. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” she says, shaking her head and trying to laugh it off. I can tell she’s nervous. “Now that would be even sadder.”

“Please,” I say. “Let me do this.”

“I’m not taking a pity drink.” She shakes her head.

“It’s not a pity drink.” I smirk when her eyebrows shoot up. “I have a sister, and if she was stood up, I would want someone to make her feel better.”

She folds her arms over her chest, pushing her tits higher, and I can see the swell of her breasts, my mouth waters. “If your sister got stood up, you would want a stranger to buy her a drink?”

I listen to the words and grimace, making her laugh, the sound making my cock perk up. “Okay, fine.” Taking my hands out of my pockets, I hold them up. “I would probably hunt down the guy.”

“Probably?” she says, shaking her head and looking down. When she looks up again at me, it’s like time stands still.

“Okay, fine.” I laugh. “I would probably hunt him down, and it would not end well.” I’m about to say something else when commotion from the side makes me turn my head, and I see my waitress there with my credit card in her hand.

“Oh, thank God,” she says. “I thought you forgot your card.” She walks over to me and holds the black folder with the bill in it.

“Actually,” I say, looking at her and then turning to look at the blonde who has her back to the window. “I was just getting my friend,” I say, pointing at her, and I can see the look of confusion on the hostess’s face. “What do you say, friend?” I say. “Let me buy you a drink.”