“No. Really. I’m sorry.” Gabriel apologizes again, though I have no idea what for. It was Dean and me who crashed his night, not the other way around. “I’m not trying to make fun of you. I just find it interesting how you came up with something like that—the story behind it. I’ll do it. Just to be clear, I will. But I am curious. I’m sure we should go over the details.”
“Yeah—uh—yeah. How’s coffee tomorrow? I can barely hear a thing in here. It’s not a great place to talk.”
It’s true. The music, like most clubs, is thumping loudly while people writhe to it on and off the dance floor to the left. It’s actually fairly busy inside here, I think. But maybe it gets even more packed regularly. I’ve only been here a few times, and I didn’t really pay much attention. I just knew I had room to walk around, and there weren’t very many people, so it wasn’t sweltering or stifling or claustrophobic the way some clubs get.
“Coffee?” Gabriel’s brows shoot up.
“Or something else if you prefer. If you don’t like coffee.”
“No. Coffee is great.” Gabriel studies me openly, and I study him back.
The fact that he’s as delicious looking as a perfectly toasted s'more oozing chocolatey goodness and marshmallow wonderfulness doesn’t help my nervousness. I like s'mores, okay? I know he’s not into women, but still. He’s so beautiful—with his rich, bronzed skin, dark hair, eyes so big and velvety soft, and a body made to match the perfectly proportioned, symmetric face—that it’s frying wires in my brain. I can practically smell the burning.
Okay, so I’m attracted to him. Physically. I know he’s gay, but my lady bits—namely, the old V-box and my nipples—aren’t listening to that argument. They just see a guy who is built like a tank with broad shoulders, probably abs for days hidden under his white button-down shirt, and cheekbones that could be used to cut a glass display case in a robbery, and they are lighting up with interest.
It’s been two years since I last saw any action, okay? I don’t believe in toys. And I don’t believe in guys, because most of them—all of the ones I’ve ever been with—are complete douche bags who bang mysterious women in your bed. Oh, and steal your credit card. And download porn and a bunch of viruses onto your brand new, expensive work laptop, and forget to water your plants, and complain about your cat, and fuck with your heart, and yadda, yadda. You get the picture.
“Okay. Should I give you my number? Or should I get yours? Or both?”
I sigh after I blurt that out because now I sound as desperate as I felt when I spilled all my doubts and insecurities to Dean a few days ago. But Dean did come up with said plan shortly after. I might have been complaining about my parents. About how exhausted I feel with them asking me if I’m still single. About how I’m so scared I’m going to ruin my sister’s wedding because they’ll be so focused on that. I might have been having a bit of a pity party.
“Both.” Gabriel smiles softly.
Not a grin. No, he’s not mocking me. He’s smiling at me like he’s actually interested in doing this. Like he’s not just going to get my number and give it to some trashy guy on the street as a joke. Like he’s not going to ditch me when I call because yeah, that’s funny too. Like he’s not going to play games of any kind. Like he’s actually serious about going through with this. Like he doesn’t think I’m crazy.
“You’re…you’re actually serious?” I have to ask it, just to be sure. I really can’t believe anyone would get on board with this. “I mean, two thousand dollars isn’t a lot.”
“Let’s just say I have a keen sense of adventure. I was recently told I should get out there, have some fun, and try new things. I haven’t done a lot of that lately, and I’d like to get out of the city. You also seem nice. In a bind, yes. A little bit desperate, probably. But I’m intrigued.”
I can feel my eyes narrowing as my heart starts beating harder. Now I feel like he is making fun of me with a straight face. “I don’t want to be a story. This is my life here, and I’m serious about this. I feel like if I don’t bring a date, my sister’s whole wedding could be ruined. I don’t want to explain all of that now. But if you’re using me for a good time, or if you think there’s some crazy, wild story to get out of this, then I need to find someone else. You’re not a reporter, are you?”