Page 1 of Unforgettable

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Oz

I wasn’t sure if agreeing to come to Speakeasy so early in the evening was a good idea, but with the scent of hot, fried food wafting around the room, the low sounding pop music playing in the background, and the slow trickle of people waltzing in,I’ve never been more grateful than I am right now to be beating that night-time rush.

Seated with a perfect view of everyone who enters, I anxiously wait and watch him as he searches for me. My body vibrates, and my leg bounces on the spot, bursting at the seams with both energy and tension that I’m desperate to burn as I take in all of him.

He has chestnut-colored hair, short on the sides, long and tousled on the top. His eyes are pools of dark chocolate and his cleanly shaven face accentuates his sharply angled jawline. He’s even more attractive in real life than in his profile picture.

But it’s the rest of him that has me staring. The parts of him the photo doesn’t show. The parts of him that are exactly what I’m looking for tonight.

He’s tall. Not as tall as my six-foot-four frame, but tall compared to most people. He’s slim but not skinny, lean but not lanky. He looks like a mix of strength and submission, and fuck if that isn’t my kryptonite.

He’s wearing a charcoal-colored shirt and ripped, black skinny-leg jeans, which you’d think would make him blend into the crowd. But even with his choice of dull, understated colors, my eyes have difficulty noticing anything but him.

He takes one last look at his cell and slips it into his back pocket. I watch his body rise and fall in a big exhalation as he silently, but very obviously, gives himself a pep talk. The carefree confident man of his Blush profile is nowhere to be found, and, for some unexplainable reason, that single change in him hits me square in the chest.

Meeting someone for sex through an app isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but it looks like this guy desperately wants it to be his.

It doesn’t take too long for his gaze to find mine, and when it does, I tip my chin up at him and smile, careful not to scare him away. He looks both relieved and nervous, and I realize I, too, let out a sigh of relief when he finally starts walking in my direction.

Because my mother taught me manners, no matter the circumstances, I rise up to my feet to greet him. Knowing one another only by our Blush usernames, I hold out my hand and introduce myself. “Hey, I’m Oz.”

“Reeve,” he supplies, slipping his hand into mine. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Smiling, I release his hand and watch as he awkwardly sits in the chair perpendicular to the one I was in.

Running his hands over his thighs, it’s obvious he’s shy. And I don’t know why I’m surprised or why I find it so endearing, but I take the seat beside him and feel myself loosen up in his presence. I feel the shitty day that propelled me to seek out a hook-up in the first place, fade into the background, and my natural inclination to put other people at ease rise to the surface for this stranger.

“What would you like to drink?” I ask.

“Drink,” he repeats, like he’s surprised I would offer.

“What?” I smirk. “Did you think we would just fuck on the table straight away?” I almost regret my crass words, but when a loud laugh bursts from his mouth, I know it worked in my favor.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I’m really bad at this.”

I tilt my head to the side, playing coy. “At what?”

He gestures between us. “I’ve never done this before.”

Because I feel like it needs to be said, and I don’t want him to think just because he showed up he has to follow through withanything, I hold his gaze, my tone a little more serious. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Now or later, one drink or ten drinks. There’s no obligation.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I mean, Iknow.But I still appreciate you saying it out loud.”

“How about those drinks?” I offer. “I think we could both use one.”

Nodding, he reaches for his wallet, but I put a hand out to stop him. “You can get the next ones. Any preferences?”

He turns to look at the selection of drinks and taps on display and then back at me. “Whatever’s good.”

Walking up to the bar, I’m reminded of my own job at Vino and Veritas. While it would’ve been easier and closer to my apartment to have Reeve meet me there, I don’t like to give a stranger complete access to me, at least not past our night together.

When it comes to one-night stands, I have my own set of rules, and making sure I’m safe and comfortable as well as the person I’m with, is one of them. I know some people are happy to meet at a hotel and get right down to business, but I don’t work that way, and in this scenario, I don’t think Reeve does either.

The forty-minute Uber ride from Burlington to Colebury might seem like a bit much, but Speakeasy is my home away from home, and if it doesn’t work out with Reeve on the sex front, then at least I can easily turn it into a night spent with good beer and good food.

“Oz,” Matteo, the manager, says with a welcoming smile. “I haven’t seen you in ages. What brings you here tonight?”

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