by Ami Snow
I settled on a pimiento cheese-stuffed chicken breast with steamed broccoli and shoestring French fries for my meal. I couldn’t finish it, and I had no qualms about turning down the dessert menu. When the check came, I laid down the black credit card my mother had given me, and tried not to think too much about it.
Catherine called another Uber after we finished our meal, and we headed to the first bar. It was dark outside, and the city lights glittered brightly all around us as we drove through the traffic. I felt a thrill of excitement. Catherine and Billie were chattering animatedly, and I started to lose some of my anxiety about the whole situation. Yes, it was expensive, and there were a lot of things ahead that I wasn’t used to. But the bustling energy of the city made me feel as if I’d finally found the place I wanted to be. There was nothing sleepy or quiet or boring about D.C. at night.
Our car pulled up to the sidewalk and we piled out of it. There was a line leading into the bar, and I reached for my ID, waiting as the line inched forwards until we finally made it inside the building.
It was better than I had expected. Catherine usually preferred more nightclub scenes—loud, with bright lights and pulsing music, and Billie tended to gravitate towards more grungy, rock bars. Her friend that we were meeting had picked the spot, though, and I wholeheartedly approved of it. It had a speakeasy feel, with exposed brick walls and a long bar that ran most of the length of one wall. There was a small dance floor, but the music wasn’t particularly meant for dancing and it was turned high enough to be ambient, but I was still able to hear conversation. There were mostly high-top tables, and seats along the bar, along with a few booths nestled into corners. Billie spied her friend almost immediately, holding one of those booths for us.
It was clear from her expression when they saw each other that there was some attraction between them, and it surprised me. He didn’t seem like her type at all. He was wearing black skinny jeans and Vans, with a tight charcoal grey t-shirt and his hair slicked back in a style reminiscent of Don Draper. He was extremely handsome, though, with sharp cheekbones, dark hair and a scruffy jawline, and I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.
He’d brought two other friends with him, no doubt at Billie’s request. One had a lumberjack sort of vibe, built like a Viking with a thick beard and hair in a bun at the base of his neck. He was wearing straight jeans with boots and a t-shirt with a brewing company label—probably where he worked, I suspected. The other guy was definitely Catherine’s type, slender and clean-cut, wearing dark jeans that were slightly more relaxed, dress shoes and a button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He looked like the type that would give you his business card and promise to call.
Unfortunately, neither of the two were particularly my type. The first, Eddie, was, but he was clearly Billie’s. Catherine had already latched onto the clean-cut fellow, who introduced himself as Tom, and that left me with the craft-beer hipster, who was named Brian. He at least seemed as if he’d be interesting to talk to, even though I had every intention of leaving him here tonight.
I let Brian order my beer, assuming that he probably knew far more than I did. I was right. He ordered me something from some tiny brewery in Vermont, and it was probably the best beer I’d ever had. I sipped it appreciatively, and listened with some interest as he told me about his work at the brewery here, a start-up that he’d put together with some friends from college. Billie was curled into the crook of Eddie’s arm, discussing some concert series that they wanted to go to, and debating the virtues of participating in mosh pits. Catherine was discussing the accounting internship with Tom.
All in all, Brian was a complete gentleman. He was sitting close to me, close enough that I could feel how warm he was—he made me think of a grizzly bear—and I could smell his spicy cologne, but he wasn’t so close that it made me feel uncomfortable. He asked what I was doing in D.C., and I explained the internship to him.
“Do you really find that interesting?” he asked. “It seems so stifling, being behind a desk all day with all of those numbers.”
I shook my head. “I love it. It’s like a puzzle to me…getting all of the figures together and adding them up and comparing those to see if they match the outcome that you want. Plus, it pays well, so I’ll be able to afford all the vacations out in nature that I could possibly want one day,” I laughed.
“I guess money isn’t a bad thing,” Brian said, and I hoped that I hadn’t offended him. It couldn’t be easy, managing a start-up brewery in D.C. I actually kind of liked him, even if he wasn’t the type of guy that I would typically go for.
“I’ll get the next round,” I offered, getting up from the booth and smiling at him. I made my way through the crowd of people to the bar, where a mustachioed bartender was filling drinks at a blinding pace. As I waited for him to make his way to my end of the bar, I felt something brush against my arm and I turned.
One of the most handsome men I’d ever seen was standing there, smiling apologetically. He was probably five or six years older than I was, and wearing suit pants, a button-down shirt and dress shoes with a suit jacket thrown over his arm. He’d clearly just come from the office. “I’m sorry,” he said, and his deep, baritone voice sent a sudden shiver over my skin that was entirely unexpected. “I didn’t mean to bump into you. Is this your seat?” He gestured to the bar seat next to me, and I shook my head, suddenly feeling as if I couldn’t form words. This was entirely unusual for me. Men never made me feel like this, as if I couldn’t quite think of what I wanted to say. But he was looking down at me with piercing, light blue eyes set in a face made up of a strong jawline and sharp cheekbones and all the features that, historically, make women swoon. It was certainly working on me.
“No,” I finally managed. “I’m just waiting on drinks. My seat is over there.” I waved my hand in the direction of the booth where Catherine, Billie, Eddie, Tom and Brian were all engrossed in conversation, evidently not missing my absence all that much.
“Well, let me buy that drink for you,” he offered. He slid into the seat, and raised a long-fingered hand. The bartender saw him and nodded, as if he knew him.
“Tony will be over here in just a minute.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I protested. “I’m getting one for my friend, too…it’s really unnecessary.”
“I can get them both, it’s no problem.” I could tell from his tone that he was the kind of man who wasn’t used to getting turned down, and it gave me a perverse pleasure to shake my head insistently. “I’ll get them,” I said, smiling at the bartender as he approached. I ordered two more of the Vermont beers, and went to hand the bartender my credit card. The man next to me reached for my hand, clasping it in his and preventing the bartender from taking my card. “Put it on my tab, Tony. I’ll have my usual.”
The bartender nodded and turned to fill the order. The man released my hand.
“You know,” I said stiffly, shoving the card back into my purse, “you really shouldn’t grab people’s hands like that when you don’t know them. Especially women. I might be a women’s studies major visiting from Berkeley or somewhere, and I might say you just assaulted me.”
He looked nonplussed. “Are you?”
I frowned. “No. I’m interning in the city. The point still stands, though.”
He smiled. “Well, perhaps you’re right, I really shouldn’t have done that. But clearly the power of words wasn’t convincing you to let me buy you that drink.”
“I can buy my own drinks.” I felt a little hypocritical saying that, since I’d just let Brian put my first beer on his tab. This man was just so high-handed, though.
“I’m Ethan,” he said, holding out his hand. “Maybe we can start this interaction over?”
I reached out and shook his hand. He looked surprised at my grip. “I’m Elizabeth,” I said. “My friends call me Ellie.”
“Do I get to call you Ellie?”
I smirked. “I suppose I’ll have to find out if we’re going to be
friends, first.”
“Maybe you should take that seat there, then.” He looked pointedly at the empty chair next to his.
“My friends are over there,” I protested, but at a quick glance, I could see that they weren’t hurting for my company at all. They were laughing and carrying on, and Catherine had moved into my spot next to Brian, although her body language was still clearly aimed at Tom. I knew neither Catherine nor Billie would have any compunction about ditching me for a while to talk to a guy. And as annoyingly full of himself as he appeared to be, I felt a strange desire to stay there and talk to him. I felt almost magnetized by him, as if there was nothing more appealing in the world than sitting there and drinking a beer with this man that I’d never met before five minutes ago.
I slid into the chair, and Ethan grinned as he took one beer from Tony and his drink, which appeared to be a Scotch, neat. “Send that other beer over to Paul Bunyan,” he said, and Tony nodded. “Will do.”
“How did you know whose it was?”
“He’s the only one with an empty drink.”
I laughed then, feeling slightly foolish. “I guess that was an easy enough guess.”
“Okay, here’s another one, then. You’re interning with the National Security Agency here…or maybe NASA? You seem like an engineering type.”
I shook my head, taking a long sip of my beer. “Not at all. I’m an accounting major.”
“Oh?” He looked interested. “I’m in business myself. Do you enjoy it?”
I nodded. “I do. It’s interesting to me. My mother has always been in marketing, so I guess you could say I’ve kind of grown up around it. I used to help her do the budget when I was a teenager, even though she had an accountant to do it all. She’d go over it with me—she said it was important to understand how finances worked.”
“Very smart,” Ethan said, taking a sip of his drink.
“Is that Scotch?” I asked, gesturing at the amber liquid in his glass.
“It is. Do you like Scotch?”
“I’ve only had whisky, but it tastes like ant spray to me…or at least what I’m pretty sure ant spray tastes like, anyway.”
He laughed. “You didn’t have good whisky, then. Here,” he said, proffering the glass. “Try it.”
I accepted it hesitantly, putting the rim to my mouth. The glass was warm where his lips had been, and I felt a sudden, sharp tremor of desire that was utterly unfamiliar to me. I glanced up at him as the liquid touched my tongue, and I was surprised to see his blue eyes darken as he watched me take a sip.
It was sharp and hot, sending a tingling sensation across my tongue and making heat blossom in my throat, but it wasn’t bad by any means. Certainly not comparable to what I’d had before. I handed the glass back to him, and my fingers trembled a little. He was still watching me, his gaze intent on my face, and I suddenly felt very self-conscious.
“You’re staring at me,” I murmured.
“Am I?” he asked, but he didn’t stop. “You’re very beautiful.”
“My friend said I looked like a librarian,” I retorted, unable to take the compliment. It was hard to believe, coming from a man who strongly resembled a short-haired Chris Hemsworth, right down to the way his arm muscles were pressing against the sleeves of his dress shirt.
“Your friend is very wrong,” he said, and he looked like he meant it. I took another sip of my beer, unsure how to respond.
“Are you staying with them while you’re here in D.C.?”
I nodded. “We sublet a row house for the semester.”
We talked for at least another hour. He seemed to take me seriously, asking questions about my classes and what I wanted to do after I graduated. His interest seemed genuine, and it only fanned the flames of the intense attraction that I was feeling.
I was entirely unaccustomed to being attracted to someone like this, and I honestly didn’t know how to handle it. Part of me felt uncomfortable and wanted to retreat, and the other part, the part that could tell that the attraction was mutual, wanted to call an Uber and immediately take him back to the house. I couldn’t do that, though…could I? It felt dangerous and completely out of character for me.
He’d just ordered another round of drinks for us when I heard Catherine’s voice behind me. She and the entire crew were standing there, and it was clear from her voice that she was on her way to being drunk. “Tom is taking us all to another bar,” she chirped. “Are you going to come?”
I paused. Brian looked somewhat irritated, as he was now the fifth-wheel in the group. Doubtless I’d wind up with him for the evening—even though I still had no intention of going home with him, and while I’d found him interesting and funny, I was having a fantastic time with Ethan. I didn’t really want to leave, and while usually I just followed along with the rest of the group, I decided tonight would be different.
“I think I’m going to stay here,” I said.
Catherine looked astonished. “Will you be okay getting back to the house by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “I can call an Uber from my phone, no problem.”
“Be safe,” Billie said, looking a little worried, but Catherine was already headed out, following Tom like a puppy. Billie and Eddie were right behind her, and Brian brought up the back, still looking miffed.
“Paul Bunyan doesn’t look too thrilled,” Ethan observed.
“I think he thought I was his for the night,” I said, taking a swallow of my beer.
“I think any man would be very remiss to assume that of you,” Ethan said, his eyes catching mine.
I was feeling the buzz from the three beers, not being someone who drank all that frequently, and I shook my head when Ethan offered to buy us another round. “I really think I should be getting home,” I said. “We have to go out tomorrow to get things for the house, and I’m sure Catherine and Billie will want brunch.”
“I really doubt they will be up all that early,” Ethan said, laughing. “I think they’ve got a lot of night ahead of them.”
I tended to agree, but I suddenly felt as if I needed to get home. “I’m sure you’re right. But still, I think it’s probably time to go.” I opened the Uber app on my phone, and Ethan shook his head. “My driver is right outside. I’ll give you a ride back.”
“Are you sure? It’s probably out of your way.” I was sure he lived in some high-rise in the middle of the city.
“It’s not a problem at all,” he assured me. He paid the check, and offered his hand as I slid out of the seat. “I feel that I should make sure that you get home safely.”
His car was waiting at the sidewalk, and his driver opened the door for us as we slid in. I tried not to look too ungraceful as I made my way across the seats to the far side. Ethan slid in next to me, and as the car pulled out into traffic after I gave the driver my address, he turned to look at me. “I really had a wonderful evening,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to meet someone tonight.”
“I wasn’t either,” I said honestly. His hand was approximately an inch from mine on the cool leather seat, and I wanted suddenly, very badly, to touch him. The driver hit a pothole in the road, and my hand jarred on the seat, sliding towards his. I didn’t stop it.
His hand was warm, the skin smooth. As if he had been wanting the same thing, his fingers wrapped around mine, and suddenly he was pulling me towards him, across the seats. I felt my heart leap into my throat, my skin tingling, and his other hand was on my waist, and his lips were moving towards mine.
There was no part of me that wanted to stop him. His mouth was soft and warm, his lips pressing against mine, and they parted without thinking. His hand went from my waist to my hair, his other hand still gripping mine, and I felt his fingers thread through my hair, my head falling back against his hand as he kissed me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I felt him groan slightly, the sound vibrating against my mouth as he pulled me closer.
My hand was on his thigh, my body pliable and willing as he pul
led me into him, and suddenly I was in his lap, straddling him in the back of the car. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I had never been this wanton in my life. I was suddenly very aware that the driver probably knew what we were doing, but I didn’t want Ethan to stop kissing me. His hand was tangled in my hair, his other hand leaving mine and going to my waist, my hip, gripping my ass. I moaned and pressed my hips down, and I felt him then, rock hard, pressing against the juncture of my thighs.
I couldn’t stop myself. I rolled my hips, grinding on his erection, and he growled deep in his throat, both hands going to my ass then, pulling me hard against him as he kissed me. I was inches away from fucking him right there, in his car, with the driver just behind me. If I’d been wearing a skirt, I might have. The car suddenly pulled to a stop, against the curb in front of my house, and our mouths separated for the first time since he’d started kissing me. We were both panting, my body aching, my skin flushed. His hands were still on my ass.
“Do you want to come upstairs?” I asked breathily. I couldn’t imagine that he would say no.
“Fuck yes,” Ethan said, and the curse word sounded strange coming from a man so perfectly tailored…and at the same time, it was insanely hot. As if I’d undone all his propriety. “I thought you were going to make me ask nicely,” he breathed into my ear as I clambered, somewhat ungainly, off of his lap.
He opened the door himself. “You don’t have to wait, Bill,” he said to the driver. “I’ll text you when you need to come back.”
Chapter 3
I followed him out of the car, fumbling in my purse for my keys, hoping that no one else was back yet. To my great relief, all of the lights were off, and we stumbled through the house to my bedroom.
