Page 2 of Happily Ever Laughter

I completely forget where I am for about twenty minutes, and when I look up I see several more people have come into the lounge.

It’s a mix of business people, folks who clearly live in the neighborhood, and one group of guys that seems to be computer techs or artsy sorts in the corner. It was hard to tell.

One of them leans forward in his easy chair, and my breath catches as his face is illuminated by the light of an old-fashioned living room lamp.

He’s so remarkably gorgeous that I’m tempted to grab my camera and ask him to model for me. Would that be rude? Maybe. It would certainly be way too far outside of my comfort level.

I can’t tell his height from the way he’s sitting, though his broad shoulders and thick chest make me think that he definitely works out a lot. But it’s the angular planes of his face and those bright, animated eyes that capture me most of all.

He is a strange sort of handsome. Certainly striking, but it’s also the way he speaks and gestures with such a confident energy. He’s engaging.

It’s almost overwhelming how much I’m drawn to him.

But going up and talking to a stranger is something I definitely do not know how to do. Maybe I should practice while I’m supposed to be in my creative try-something-new zone?

After another swallow of lemon syrup that slides deliciously along my tongue, I turn back to my laptop. My eyes flick once more to the gorgeous man in the corner who is rolling up the sleeves of his dark gray button down shirt.

He catches my gaze, those sharp eyes locking on mine for several seconds before I manage to tear myself away. Hunching back over my laptop, I realize that my stomach is tingling just from that direct glance.

Maybe it’s time for me to start thinking about considering looking into the possibility of dating again someday.

Maybe. Someday.

CHAPTER TWO

~ Felix ~

Wow. Just… wow .

Those beautiful eyes genuinely feel like they are staring into my soul. Never in my life have I felt such an instant attraction to a complete stranger.

My roommates and I have been coming to the Boho every other Monday night for a couple of years, since according to Dan, they have the best free pool tables in the city. But I’ve never seen her here. I would definitely remember that gorgeous face.

Her long dark hair frames a delicate, classically sculpted face that’s both pretty and elegant. I also love the way she’s out for the night dressed casually in a plain t-shirt and jeans, with just a few simple layered necklaces. I’ve always loved that look and don’t know why.

There is something about her that I can’t even put into words. Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe her vibe. She’s natural, fresh, and wildly sexy.

Years ago when I was looking around for women to date, she would’ve been perfect. But since absolutely nobody interested me for longer than a five minute conversation, I stopped bothering.

This strangely unique girl makes me want to bother again. Makes me want to drop everything in my life just to get to know her.

The question is, will I come off like a creep if I approach her? She looks like she’s working, in a bar of all places. But then again, a bar is a social place where people are expected to chat.

I realize that I’ve been completely ignoring Dan and Oliver as they discuss whether or not we should redo the kitchen backsplash as our mini renovation project for next month.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, guys,” I say, standing up to walk slowly around the perimeter of the bar. They know that I’m a bit of a weirdo, and don’t think anything of me disappearing mid-conversation.

I walk to the side windows as if I’m looking for someone, so that I can pass directly by her table. She seems to be completely focused again, eyes riveted on her laptop as her fingers fly over the keys and the trackball swiftly.

I love that she’s barely wearing any makeup. I adore that she’s wearing sporty black leather boots to a club. She’s the girl of my dreams, from a dream I haven’t even had yet.

Shuffling slightly to the side, I’m able to glimpse the screen of her laptop, displaying a video clip of the full version of the almost empty lemon drop on the table beside her.

I recognize the bright purple nail polish of Jenna’s fingers in the video as she pours the drink into the fancy glass. But then the colors explode, shattering into rainbow shards that dance in an intricate pattern before settling back in the glass.

It’s as if she manipulated the video, then animated a delicate network of movement lines over top of it. The entire effect is absolutely magical.

“How did you do that?” I blurt out, completely forgetting my manners.

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