Page 6 of Spotlight
When he finally answers, he says, “I had a job interview today.”
“And it didn’t go well?” I ask because he did say he was having a crappy day.
“It was a long shot. I knew that before I came, but I had to try.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. What about you? What brings you to the city?”
“I’m here with my sister. She had a job thing, and I tagged along.”
“That’s cool. Older or younger?”
“She’s three years older.”
“Other siblings?”
“No, just the one.”
“You’re the baby of the family, like me. I have older brothers.”
I don’t often feel like the baby. Ruby has always looked out for me like an older sister, but I had to grow up fast when I got pregnant, and somewhere in the past six years, I’ve taken on more of that eldest vibe. Though she would still cut a bitch who crossed me.
“Speaking of siblings,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He stares at it, a grin pulling up one side of his mouth. “They’ve been blowing me up all day to hear about the try—, I mean, the interview.”
His smile falls, and he slides his phone back. The air shifts around him. He has a cocky playfulness about him, but this is a first glimpse of just how shitty he’s really feeling.
“Was it that bad?” I ask.
He blows out a breath that is visible in the dark night, and I can feel the weight of his emotions, disappointment, most likely. Maybe shame.
“No. In fact, it went well. Or so I thought. They want to go in a different direction.”
“I’m sorry.” And I am. I don’t know this guy’s name or anything about him, really, but I know what it’s like to reach for something and not get it, no matter how badly you want it.
“Anyway, enough about me.” He pushes off the balcony, standing to his full height.
My heart pounds a little faster as he comes toward me. He’s even taller than I assumed. Broader too. With each step he takes, the light brings him into better view. The black T-shirt he’s wearing stretches across his chest in a way that hints at the muscle underneath.
Confidence oozes from him. It’s in his fluid, athletic movements and the easy way he talks to me. His face is the last thing the light hits. His dark brown hair is covered by a white Minnesota Twins baseball hat. I guess that’s where he’s from, but I don’t ask since I’m not prepared to answer the same question.
His mouth is pulled into another half smile that gives him a certain charm. He’s one of those guys that is more handsome the longer you stare at him. Which I now realize I’ve been doing for several moments.
If we weren’t standing out in the cold, I’m certain that I’d be blushing.
“I knew you were beautiful, but the closer I get, the more out of my league I feel.” His voice has a direct line to the butterflies in my stomach.
“You’re full of shit.” The traitorous butterflies flutter anyway.
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.” His brows pinch together. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”
I’m positive that’s a line, but dammit, it’s working. I’m flushed and smiling. I think that half glass of wine went to my head.
“Maybe in another life.”
“Either way, I’m glad we both ended up on this balcony together.”
“I should go in,” I say, but don’t move.
