by Lauren Helms
“Yeah. I didn’t have dinner, so I’m sorry if I’m going to town on ya.” She gulps down another tot, and while the room is pretty dark, I see her eyes close as she replays what she said in her head. I chuckle and shake my head. She’s fun.
“Well, I’m totally cool with you going to town.” I wink, and she covers her mouth with her hand and giggles. I’d really like to get to know her more, so I keep the conversation flowing. “What brings you out to Club Punch tonight?”
“Oh, my cousin’s birthday party. She loves this place. You?” She takes a sip of her drink, and I can’t help but watch the way her lips cover the straw.
“Nice. Happy birthday to your cousin. This is my first time here. A buddy of mine talked me into coming out tonight.” I leave out the fact I’m from out of town.
“This place is pretty bumping. Clubs aren’t really my scene, but if I have to go out, this is where I go.” She turns slightly toward me and takes in the club while she talks.
I don’t know if it’s being in the crowded club, or if her proximity is just too much to handle, but it’s getting hot in here. The sleeves on my button-down are rolled halfway up my forearm, but I push them up toward my elbow. The movement catches her eye, and she stares at my arms for longer than she should. I smirk, knowing the ink up and down my arms has her attention.
My personality and looks paired with my profession is an odd combo, I know. Being a pro gamer, you’d automatically assume I’m a nerd. And maybe I am, but I dropped the pocket protector years ago. The ink on my body helps me come across as a bigger badass than I am. I’m more of a lover than a fighter—unless I’m dealing with some newb on Call of Battle who can’t keep his fucking mouth shut about how good he isn’t. Then all bets are off.
The ladies are normally perplexed by my look when they find out my profession. I’ve witnessed the confusion on their faces before. Just a few months ago, one woman flat out told me she didn’t believe I was a gamer, that I looked like I belonged to a motorcycle club. I chuckled at that. Sometimes it works for me and sometimes it doesn’t.
I take a swig of my beer. “You like ink?” I ask.
She snaps out of her stare and clears her throat. “I’m actively choosing to not be embarrassed for how long I stared.”
“No need to be. I like that you’re curious.”
That earns me a smile. “I just wasn’t expecting to see tattoos. And, yeah, I guess I like them.”
Her eyes flit down to my forearm where the end of a gaming joystick peeks out from my shirt. It’s one of my favorite pieces. It took several sessions, as it covers most of my arm and features five popular game controllers. It’s epic. It’s the only gamer related tat I have, so it’s special.
“Do you have any tats?” I eye her, trying to figure out where a girl like her would hide ink.
“I do,” tilting her head, she smirks. “You’re trying to figure out where, aren’t you?” She snorts.
I snap my eyes to her face and see the playfulness there, her smile is sexy as sin. “You caught me.” She shakes her head and laughs before taking another drink.
Placing my elbow on the bar, I lean my chin onto my hand and ask, “How many, and where are they?” I tilt toward her with raised eyebrows.
“Hmm. Wouldn’t you like to know?” She winks, then snags a mozzarella stick and dunks it in the marinara. Shamelessly, I watch her tongue dart out and lick the end of the stick to catch the drip of sauce.
Fuck. Me.
Clearing my throat, I direct our conversation toward safer topics such as the club and her cousin. We chat some more as a couple more songs fade into the next. Then, I’m bumped into again.
What the hell?
“Shit,” I mutter as Garland thumps me on the back. “Did you trip?” I growl.
He looks down and then back up at us. “Kind of? It was slippery, but I don’t see anything.” Next to me comes a giggle.
We both look at my companion. “Same thing happened to me,” she tells Garland. He takes her in, eyes her from head to toe, and within seconds, I’m fighting off the urge to stake my claim. I’m not normally the jealous type, and Garland and I’ve never fought over the opposite sex before, but I guess there’s always a first time for everything.
“Hello, pretty lady.” He grins. She smiles back, but she’s giving him that same appraising look she gave me when she thought I was hitting on her.
“Seems as if you’ve made a new friend, Benny Boy. What’s this beautiful creature’s name?” He chuckles, not taking his eyes off her. I’ve always known Garland to handle himself with confidence and finesse, so I’m puzzled as to why he’s acting like such a fool right now.
“Shut up, Garland,” I sneer at the use of his annoying as fuck nickname.
“I’m Kelly, thanks for asking. Benny Boy, over here, hasn’t even asked my name yet.” She smiles and shoots me a challenging grin. Well, damn, she’s right.
“He didn’t get the nickname Benny Boy for no reason.” Garland laughs, and I flex my fist at my side.
“I’ve never been called by that name, so cut it out.” I look at Kelly then. “It’s just Ben, by the way. If anyone wants to talk names, let’s talk about Garland,” I joke, knowing it’s a sore subject for him.
His eyes narrow slightly at me, but his chin juts out as he tries to remain casual. “It’s a family name.”
“Well, I dig it,” Kelly says, giving him her support. I roll my eyes. Damn it, Garland. Of course, he’d win sympathy from the chick I’m totally digging on right now.
Garland moves closer, crowding the space between us and effectively severing my closeness with Kelly. He eyes me with a raised eyebrow and a look that screams, See? I smash my lips together and give him a warning look, and he chuckles in return.
“What do you need, Garland?” I spit out.
“I came to see what was taking you so long to bring back our drinks and my—oh, look, my dinner,” he says when he looks down at the half-empty plate of food. Payback’s a bitch, and I just shrug.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry for eating your food,” Kelly blurts out.
I cut into their little conversation. “Don’t make her feel bad, Gar. I told her she could have some. Then I started eating too, and the time got away from me. Look, here’s your drink. It’s still cold and everything.” I grab his drink and maneuver it in front of him.
“Thanks,” he grumbles. He eyeballs me, and I give him the universal look for, Beat it, buddy. And he finally gets it. “No apologies needed, darling Kelly. My food is your food.”
I scowl at his comment, but he continues to address Kelly and doesn’t even notice my glare. “I’m gonna head back to my table. I’ll leave you two here to get to know each other.” Garland bows his head toward her, and he slowly backs away and then disappears into the crowd.
Holding my breath, I look at Kelly. As soon as we make eye contact, she bursts out in laughter.
“Wow, that was…” she trails off, her humor taking over.
“I know, he’s something else. And by the way, I paid for that drink and the food, so don’t let him make you think it was actually his.” I offer her a bemused smile.
She smiles back, and I can’t look away from her mesmerizing eyes. I wonder what color they are; it’s too dark in here to tell. Heat pools in her cheeks as she bites her lip, and I want to suck that lip into my mouth.
She leans in slightly and I follow suit.
I’m going to kiss her. Fuck yeah! I’m going to kiss this gorgeous woman whom I just met at the bar of some hip club. I’m going to kiss her, then I’m going to see if I can get her to come back to my hotel room with me. I close the gap between us, our lips just a whisper apart when a whoosh of cool air hits my face. I blink and see that Kelly still sits next to me, but her focus is on the two women standing next to her.
“Ohmigod! Kelly, we’ve been looking for you,” they squeal, their words jumbled together. I swallow hard, lean back, and try to play it cool. But fuck that shit.
“I told you I was going to the bar,” Kelly answers, and she nervously looks back at me. I can see the remorse in her eyes, but I smile and hope I come across as cool as a fucking cucumber. That’s when they notice me. The taller of the two giggles and waves at me as she elbows the shorter woman. I don’t get any flirty reception from this one. No, I’m greeted with a glare as she grabs ahold of Kelly’s hand.
“Kelly, I need to talk to you.” She starts to pull Kelly away from me, and it takes everything in me not to grab her other hand and pull her toward me.
Kelly looks over her shoulder at me and yells as she’s yanked away. “I’m so sorry, Ben. I’ll be back.” She flashes me a small smile, and I tip my head in acknowledgment.
Fuck.
She walks away and the crowd eats her up. I was about to seal the deal with a sexy as fuck stranger on my last night in Culver City, but now I suspect I won’t see her again.. Our chemistry was through the roof hot, and I was looking forward to finding those hidden tattoos. I drop my head in disappointment when I realize I never got her number. So, like the desperate son of a bitch I am, I wait for her.
After what seems like hours, I realize she’s not coming back. I close out my tab and text Garland that I’m leaving. I don’t bother to correct him when he asks if I’m leaving with the sexy lady from the bar. I head back to my hotel, silently cursing the club, Garland, and the grumpy friend who pulled Kelly away before what I suspect would have been a hot fucking kiss.
4
Kelly
“I wouldn’t be surprised if cobwebs are growing in your vajayjay.” Darcy giggles from the couch as I slip on my heels. I sneer and then huff when I wobble as I stand on one foot.
“Come on, you know it’s a possibility,” she pushes. “It’s been, what, a year since you’ve hooked up with a dick?”
“You say that as if I’ve hooked up with a vagina in the meantime,” I say, regaining my balance now that I’m back on two feet.
“Well, I’m not going to judge if that’s the case, Kell.”
I glance at her, and while her expression is light, I can tell she’s being serious. “Oh, stop. I always have been, and always will be, into the D. And it hasn’t been a year. Maybe only, like, six or seven months.” I roll my eyes again and look for my purse.
She leans to her side, reaching for something. “Maybe this date with Sam will quench your dry spell.” She snorts, handing me my purse, which was sitting on the end table.
“This is a blind date, Darcy. I don’t even know the guy. What makes you think a first date will turn into a hookup?” I peek at my phone and see I’ve got to get going. I hate being late, but I almost always am.
“You were going to go home with that dude from Punch a few weeks ago,” Darcy challenges, and I find myself annoyed she brought him up. She totally clam jammed me, and I’m still shitty about it.
“First of all, his name is Ben, and I was getting to know him. There was something between us and you ruined it.” I glare at her as I head for the door.
“Pfft. You should be thanking me! He wasn’t your type. He was tall, dark, and broody. Way too many tats, so he was probably a bad boy. Not your type.” She waves her hand as if to brush off my concern. “And if you were planning on hooking up with a stranger, what’s keeping you from hooking up with Sam tonight?” she challenges. I stop momentarily, my hand on the doorknob. She’s got a point.
Gathering my thoughts, I look at her over my shoulder. “I’m not a one-night stand kinda girl, Darcy. You know this. But I met a guy who I clicked with, and I would have been that kind of girl for a night with him.” Guilt flicks across her face as I continue. “The chances of me meeting another guy I feel that with right off the bat are unlikely. Not with the luck I’ve been having lately. But I promise you, if I feel anything for Sam, I won’t brush it aside. I’ll pursue him if he’s feeling it, too.”
She accepts my promise and tells me to have a good night as I leave the apartment.
As I grab an Uber, I can’t shake my thoughts on Ben. She’s right—he’s not my normal type. I go for the clean-cut good guys, and Ben is the opposite of that. He has thick, perfectly messy dark hair, and dark brows and eyes. His smile hit me right in the lady bits every time he flashed those white teeth of his. When he rolled up his sleeves, I saw that dark ink covered his arms, and I couldn’t stop staring. I wanted to explore the art and find out why he had it marked forever on his skin.
Like I said, I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. I like relationships. Relationships are steady, predictable, safe. It’s been nearly two years since I’ve been in one, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I miss it. I’ve causally, but exclusively dated over the past two years, but that’s the extent of it. And the men either wanted more or less exclusivity. I didn’t feel a spark worth turning into more with either of them. Six or seven months later—I’m trying not to keep track—I’m officially in a dry spell.
The car rolls near the casual restaurant I’m meeting Sam at. Heading inside, I grab a small table when I realize I’m early. Wow, that never happens. I mentally fist pump myself.
I take in Luigi’s Italiano—it’s one of my favorite little Italian eateries. Their pasta is handmade in the shop, and their sauces are delectably rich and flavorful. Several tables are occupied, and the sound of the patrons’ soft murmurs and laughter are more bearable than overwhelming. It’s not a quiet atmosphere, but it’s not like sitting in a busy cafeteria.
My gaze wanders to a man sitting alone at the bar, and for a brief moment, my mind travels back to thoughts of Ben. How crazy would it be if he were sitting down to eat a meal here as well? The man shifts in his seat, and his profile is all wrong. I’ve tried to conjure up a full picture of him in my mind over the past weeks, but I’m not positive I’d even recognize him anymore. I should have gotten his number.
I groan, upset again with myself. And Darcy, even though I shouldn’t be. She pulled me away from him, thinking she was helping me out. But if she had witnessed our chemistry, I think she would have encouraged me to stay. Shaking my head, I force myself out of my memories.
“Move on Kelly,” I whisper to myself. He’s long gone and it was a missed connection. Simple as that. Just as I end my mental pep talk, a man I recognize as Sam is walking toward me with a smile.
He’s a handsome man—tall and slightly skinny. His blond hair is cut short and trimmed to perfection, and there’s no facial hair to be seen. He’s exactly what I would normally be attracted to.
“You must be Kelly,” he says as stops next to the table.
“Sam, it’s nice to meet you. Have a seat. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t wait to get us one.” I gesture to the chair opposite my own.
“Not at all. It’s starting to get busy, so we might have had to wait awhile. Sorry I’m late.” Sam pulls out the chair and folds himself into the seat.
“It’s fine. I’m normally the one who’s late. It’s a nice change.” We both chuckle and start to peruse the menu.
We exchange simple pleasantries, and after we order, we make small talk. We talk about our jobs—he works in HR for a mid-sized company that deals in e-commerce, and I don’t spend much time talking about how unsatisfied I am with my job. It’s not really something you bring up on a first date. Sam is lovely, and I’ll admit he’s easy to talk to. I’m enjoying myself.
A loud bark of laughter comes from the other side of the restaurant, and my gaze is pulled to the source—a table where four young men sit around it, laughing and having a good ole time. I catch one’s profile, and I’m nearly struck dumb as Ben’s face comes into focus in my mind. The man in question has nearly the same hairstyle and dark scruff on his face that sparked tingles down my spine at the bar. I rake my gaze down his arm and then zero in on the tattoo visible there. I can’t make out the design, but shit—is that Ben? Desperately, I look at the rest of the table and notice a man to his right that looks like the guy Ben was at the club with. I can’t remember his name. Garrett, Garth, G
ary? Something like that.
I rack my brain for a way to casually get closer to the table without coming across as crazy to both my date and the table of men. I dart my eyes around the space and find that the restrooms are in the opposite direction of the table in question, and I deflate. It’s going to either be a trip to crazy town or another missed connection.
A shadow descends over our table, pulling me out of my internal war. It’s our server placing our food down in front of us. I give the server a distracted smile just as Sam says, “Wow, this looks amazing. Look at the size of these shrimp.”
Pulled from my concern over Ben possibly being here, I force myself to focus on my date instead. Wow, those are massive. He ordered the seafood carbonara, which is a good pick, but I had a hankering for a red sauce pasta, so I went with the baked ziti.
Momentarily distracted by yummy food, I ask him, “So how do you know my cousin, Darcy?”
Sam coughs around the piece of shrimp he just put in his mouth, covers his mouth with his napkin, and clears his throat.
I give him a small smile. “I didn’t mean to ask you a question right as you were taking a bite.” He shakes his head as he pulls his hand away.
“No, you’re fine. I’m just surprised she didn’t tell you.” He shifts in his seat as if uncomfortable. Immediately, my senses go on high alert. Damn it, Darcy. What have you done? Eyebrows raised, I urge him to share what Darcy didn’t.
“Yeah, well, she works with my ex-girlfriend. I was surprised she reached out to me to set up this date, to be honest. But I can’t say I’m disappointed.” He tries to give me a reassuring grin, but I just nod and chew on the inside of my cheek while I rework what he said.
Interesting. I wonder how close Darcy is to this ex of his. Clearly, not that close if she’s setting him up with me.
Hesitantly, I ask, “How long have you been single?” I take a bite of my ziti.
“Umm, a couple of weeks.” He winces.
My mouth falls open, then slams shut. “Wow. So this was fast.” Quickly, I regroup. Maybe it wasn’t a long relationship, so getting back into dating isn’t a big deal for him. I don’t want to pry, but I want to know.
