And good-looking.
And employed.
I should set him up with my older sister. How he’s gone by undetected under her radar all this time is a mystery to me.
We push through the door, the last ones out of the theater and stop in the lobby, tossing away all our trash.
I look up at him, my heart skipping a beat at seeing him in the brighter light and standing tall in front of me. Hazel eyes. Definitely hazel. But more green around the outside of the irises.
His hair is styled with minimal product and just long enough to run your fingers through, and I drop my eyes to his smooth, tan neck. I can’t see if there’s a tan line under the collar of his T-shirt, though. Is he like that all over? An unbidden image of him hammering and hauling lumber without a shirt on flashes in my mind and I…
I close my eyes again, shaking my head. Yeah, whoa, okay.
“Um, I better head back,” I tell him, gripping the strap of my bag. “Hopefully my boyfriend is waiting at the bar to pick me up by now.”
“Bar?”
“Grounders?” I answer, thinking he probably should know the place. It’s one of only three bars in town, although many favor Poor Red’s or the strip club over the dive I work at. “I got off a little early tonight—unexpectedly—but he’s my ride, and I couldn’t get a hold of him. He should be there now, though.”
He pushes the door open, holding it for me as I leave the theater, and follows me out.
“Well, I hope you had a good birthday, despite having to work,” he says.
I move to the right toward where Grounders is, and he veers left.
“And thanks for keeping me company.” I tell him. “I hope I didn’t ruin the movie for you.”
He gazes at me for a moment, his breathing growing heavier as a torn look crosses his face. Finally, he shakes his head, averting his eyes. “Not at all,” he says.
A moment of silence passes, and slowly, we both steer farther apart but neither of us turns our backs on one another.
The silence gets longer, the distance farther, and finally he raises a hand, giving me a little wave before hooking both hands in his back pockets. “Goodnight,” he says.
I just stare at him. Yeah, goodnight.
And then I turn away, my stomach twisting into a tighter knot.
I didn’t even get his name. It’d be nice to say ‘hi’ if I run into him again.
I don’t have time to dwell, though, because my phone rings, and I slide it out of my pocket, seeing Cole’s name on the screen.
I stop on the sidewalk and answer it. “Hey, you at Grounders?” I ask him. “I’m almost there.”
He doesn’t say anything, though, and I pause, calling his name. “Cole? Hey, are you there?”
Nothing.
“Cole?” I say louder.
But the line is dead. I go to call him back, but I hear a voice behind me.
“Your boyfriend’s name is Cole?” the man from the theater asks. “Cole Lawson?”
I turn around to see him slowly walking back toward me.
“Yeah,” I say. “You know him?”
He hesitates for a moment as if coming to terms with something, and then he holds out his hand, finally introducing himself. “I’m Pike. Pike Lawson.”