“Hey, Abbey. Rosie told me about you the other day,” he replies. I’m assuming he shook her hand because I still haven’t turned to look at him. He places his hand on my shoulder in a gentle touch. “Hey, Rosie,” he says.
Slowly, I turn in my chair so I can see his face. He’s shining just as he always does. “Hi,” I respond, my voice low.
Abbey is taking her seat again when she asks him, “Would you like to join us, Drew?”
He looks down at me as if he’s waiting for my approval, so I nod. “Sure” he replies.
Drew pulls a chair from the empty table next to us. “So what’s happening, ladies?
I remain silent, but what does it matter when Abbey is around? She’s a great buffer. I just hope she doesn’t embarrass me.
“Not much, taking a little afternoon break from work. What about you?” Abbey carries the conversation.
“Had a little lunch date before I head back to work,” he reveals.
Abbey’s raises her eyebrow at me. I’m going to kill her. I need to say something before he wonders why I’m not talking. Find your voice, Rosie. Jesus.
“How’s the project you told me about going?” I ask, feeling good about my ability to say anything at all, especially something coherent.
“It’s good. I actually need to get going soon because I need to be finished by tomorrow afternoon,” he answers. I notice again just as I did yesterday the way his eyes light up when he talks about his work.
“We actually need to get going too,” I say, standing up. Both Abbey and Drew look at me, but follow my cue and stand also.
I don’t know why I’m acting like such a Nervous Nellie. I like Drew. I don’t feel uncomfortable with him, but I do feel out of my element today. I think it’s the whole situation with this casual dating thing and Abbey’s suggestion I try it out on Drew.
Just when I’m about to reach for my coat hanging on the back of the chair, Drew takes it off before I do. “Let me help you, turn around,” he instructs me, his voice tender.
I look into his eyes then slowly turn, catching a glimpse of Abbey’s face as I look away from them. She looks a bit shocked and intrigued at the same time. Drew holds my coat out so I can place my arms in it.
“Thank you,” I say politely.
As I turn, I pull the hair from out of my coat, smiling when I face Drew.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, a shy smile on his face.
We all head to the door together; Drew holds the door as Abbey and I walk through it. I realize that’s two things he’s done to indicate how gentlemanly he is in the last few minutes. It brings to mind Drew is a complete contradiction to the persona he says he plays, which is a playboy.
When we say our goodbyes again, I watch Drew disappear around the corner. There is definitely more to Drew Nallen than he lets on, and I like him.
I’m sitting at the bar of the swanky new restaurant on Pacific Avenue, taking a bite out of a vodka-soaked olive, staring at the door. Abbey and I were on a mission tonight: go out and find me my very own Ashton Kutcher from No Strings Attached minus the eventually-fall-in-love part. The only problem is Abbey went to the bathroom thirty minutes ago, and now I’m sitting alone because she found herself her own handsome conquest. I pop another olive in my mouth, savoring the saltiness before downing the rest of my martini.
I don’t need Abbey’s help. I’m a smart, twenty-seven-year-old woman who is more than capable of finding myself a man. I wave at the bartender, and he nods, holding his finger up to signal he will be with me in a moment. I just need a brilliant plan.
As I tap my finger to my chin, my mind runs wild with ideas of how and what I need to do to be the new, adventurous me.
Aha! That’s it! I’ll just sit here at this bar, and the next guy to walk in will be my adventure. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, he walks in.
He, as in the stranger of my dreams. Tall, dark, handsome, and a great dresser. He’s per—ewww! No! Tall, dark, and handsome just picked his nose. In public. He actually stuck his finger in his nose, pulled it out, and looked at it. Who does that after the age of eight? The dream just turned into a nightmare. I frown.
Let’s move on and try this again.
During the booger debacle, another guy walked up to the opposite end of the bar, but his back is to me. It is a lean and defined back if the tight fitting shirt is any indication. He has a full head of hair, and it looks nice. I lift the martini the bartender just placed in front of me to my mouth, and as it wets my lips, Mr. Nice From Behind turns to face me. His head isn’t the only part of his body that’s full of hair. He has hair peeking from beneath his button-down shirt, except he seems to have missed several buttonholes because his gorilla chest is showing. And what the hell is up with the thick gold chains hanging around his neck? Oh damn, he just caught me staring, and he winked at me, throwing a cheesy grin on the side. This whole situation just became worse than the booger guy. No, dude. No. I quickly turn my head, dropping it onto the bar.
Jesus, is this what I have to work with? I may be a bit off my game, but I’m not that desperate. Maybe tonight isn’t going to be my night. I’ll even admit I may need Abbey’s help. Or maybe this is hopeless and I need to call it a night. I mean, who am I kidding? How am I going to do this? I can’t even remember how to act with a guy who isn’t Michael. Once upon a time he liked my quirky personality. My awkwardness. He said it was cute. Adorable. He’s the reason I hate being called those things now. According to Michael, all the things he once loved weren’t so adorable any longer; he wanted something different.
As I lift my head and take another sip from my martini, thinking of calling it a night, he walks through the door.
Drew Nallen.
The very guy who put this whole idea in motion, even if he doesn’t know it.
“Maybe he’ll do it,” Abbey is suddenly whispering in my ear.
I shake my head. “Wait, what? No. No, he wouldn’t,” I insist.
She stands next to me; we watch Drew as he speaks with the hostess. The blonde is giggling and batting her eyelashes at him. He acts as if he’s paying attention to her, but his eyes tell a different story that even I can see from this distance.
“How do you know he wouldn’t?” Abbey asks me, never taking her eyes off of him.
“I know because that is Drew,” I inform her as if that simple statement should explain it all.
“Yes, I’m aware. Drew, the guy from The Roasting Company.” The sanguine tone in her voice makes me nervous.
“The one and only,” I state, a bit of longing in my voice. “Drew, the guy who isn’t relationship material.
Her eyes finally leave him and focus on me. I can tell the wheels are turning in her head, and the look of determination on her face is one I’ve seen time and time again.
“No, Abbey. You—” I try to plead before she interrupts me.
“Rosie Fisher, this is your man. This isn’t about a relationship, and you need to remember that because you’re the one who decided this is what you wanted. He’s got the confidence and charm. He’s used to this kind of relationship. You’ve told me over and over he dates but never commits. All you need to do is be honest and ask him for what you want.” She glances back at him just as he begins to make his way in our direction. “Rosie, he’s the one. Now ask. I’m going back to Hottie McHotstuff I met on my way out of the bathroom. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She leans forward and places a kiss on my cheek, then lifts her hand in a modestly flirtatious way in Drew’s direction.
I look up just in time for my eyes to lock with Drew’s. He smiles like it was his intention to meet me here all along. When the warmth of his smile reaches me, I know I’m about to ask Drew Nallen to be my friend with benefits. Forget Ashton Kutcher; Drew is going to be my Justin Timberlake. I lift my hand in a small wave; it’s shaking, so I pull it back down quickly.
What are the odds this will work? He’s probably going to think I’ve lost my mind. Because really
, what does Drew know about me?
I begin to list them off in my head. He knows I’m a twenty-seven-year-old copy editor for the local paper. I live alone. He knows I have three siblings who all live in Texas, where I grew up. He knows my best friend is Abbey. Drew has asked me all of these tiny yet personal details about myself. This won’t work.
Tapping my fingernails against the bar as I wait for him to reach me, my nerves are beginning to get the best of me.
What am I thinking? How can I think this is a good idea? I’m a lunatic! He’s going to think I’m a floozy! Just when I contemplate getting up and walking out of here, Drew waltzes up to my side with his usual swagger.
He smiles wider, a genuine smile that lights up his face. I reciprocate, listing everything I know about him off in my head.
He’s a graphic designer. He lives alone. He has one sister and three brothers. His parents are still happily married. He grew up here in Santa Cruz. He likes to surf in his free time, which would explain his well-sculpted body and sun-kissed skin. He has kind eyes. He laughs a lot. The best part is he seems to honestly enjoy my company.
Just as this thought enters my mind, Drew takes the seat across from me. “I’m glad I saw you over here,” he tells me as he reaches over and pulls one of the olives from my drink off the toothpick with his teeth. I watch him without saying a word when he immediately pops another into his mouth and grins. He’s comfortable; that’s good. “So what’s up?” he asks me when he finishes chewing. He reaches for my drink again; I slap his hand but he takes the drink anyway. He laughs before continuing, “Are you here with someone?”
Pushing the strands of hair behind my ears that have come loose from the messy bun I tied high on my head, I close my eyes for a moment, silently chanting, I can do this…I can do this. When I open my eyes again, Drew is watching me with a curious look on his handsome face.
Taking a deep breath, I blurt out, “I want you to teach me.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You want me to teach you?”
“No! I mean, yes, but no,” I try to explain. “Damn it; I’m nervous.”
Drew takes me completely off guard when he reaches his hand across the table and lays it over mine. His lips curve up in one corner. Man, he’s smooth. Immediately, a calm washes over me. I want this, and suddenly, now more than ever, I’m confident he’s the one who can help me.
“I want you to help me. You have experience with…things,” I mumble, eyes wide. I want him to understand what I’m trying to say, but he’s going to make me explain it. I can tell I’ve completely mystified him. Drew thought he had me figured out, and I’ve thrown him for a loop. Good.
“I know things? You want me to teach you…things? What kind of things, Rosie?” he questions me.
A blush colors my cheeks. Nodding my head, I admit, “Yes, you’re experienced. Things that I want to be better at, more sure about.”
“Things,” he states, a light shining in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Yes,” I return, straightening in my chair and pushing my shoulders back.
He rests his elbow on the bar and begins tapping his lips with one finger, watching me silently as if he is trying to figure out an answer to a difficult puzzle.
“Things,” I say, unable to remain silent under his scrutiny any longer. He smiles. My blood boils. He’s laughing at me. Abruptly, I stand. “Forget it,” I huff out and turn to walk away.
He wraps his hands firmly around my wrist, and I freeze. I can’t bring myself to look back; my head falls, and I focus on the way his large fingers press into my skin. Surely he can feel my pulse speed up. Sometimes he makes me so damn nervous.
“I want you to say it, Rosie. Say the words.” His voice is practically a whisper. Although he’s still seated, it’s as if I can feel his breath on my neck. The air between us changed in an instant. I nod my head slowly; it’s only then that Drew releases my wrist.
Slowly, I turn around, sitting next to him at the bar once more.
His acute gaze fixated on my face, he waits. I look down at my newly manicured nails, the electric-blue polish part of my attempt to be more daring. When I look back up, Drew is still focused solely on me, his cheek dimpled on one side. I can’t help but return his good humor.
“Say it, Rosie,” he says, a little more demanding this time.
“You’re so confident and controlled. People are drawn to you. You demand attention when you walk in the door, and yet you’re so amiable.” I swallow the tiny lump that has lodged itself in my throat at the last thought in my head. Sighing, my next words come out in a hushed tone. “I have a feeling you’re more capable of pleasing a woman than the average guy.” His face lights up more and more with every word that leaves my mouth. My nerves are wound so tight; I begin to speak more quickly. “I want the same, and I want you to teach me. Because I like you and for some reason, I trust you.” The last words come out in a low voice; I’m not sure he even heard me.
A temporary look of shock crosses his features before it disappears into something different altogether.
“I’m not sure if I knew what you were going to say, but that wasn’t it,” he admits, running a hand through his dark hair.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “You must think I’m insane.”
He slides his hand and places it over mine lying on the bar. I look down and examine the way it swallows mine beneath it, shielding it in a protective way. It’s this kind of touch that tells me he’s so much more than the playboy he portrays himself to be. It’s the reason I can trust him.
When he begins speaking again, I lift my gaze back up to his face.
“Rosie, I don’t think you’re insane, but I’m not exactly sure what you’re proposing,” he states, a serious look on his face.
Feeling a little indignant, I let my frustration seep into my tone. “I’m saying I want you to help me become a little bolder. I want you to show me how to attract a man and keep his interest without scaring him away.”
He moves his hand away, running it through his hair, and I fight the urge to pull it back to mine.
Releasing a long, low sigh, Drew’s eyes penetrate mine. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking me? Because, Rosie, I’m not the nice guy. I’m not gentle, and I definitely don’t commit. Shit, I really like you, but…”
He trails off, the look in his eyes begging me to understand why he’s saying no to me and my proposition. It goes against his nature.
I laugh, and his expression twists into one of confusion.
“Drew, I know who you are. Sure, maybe we haven’t been friends long, but I’ve seen you on a date, and from what you told me, you go through more girls in a month than most go through in a lifetime.” This time, I place my hand over his and I’m still struck by the sheer size of his hand compared to mine. “I’m not asking you to date me in hopes it will lead to more. I’m asking you to spend some time with me, give me pointers, help me become a girl that can turn heads yet remain strong. I want this, and I want you to be the one to show me.”
“You don’t need me for this, Rosie. You deserve more than I can offer. Believe me when I say you deserve more than anything I can offer,” he implores.
“I know what I’m asking. Drew, I know what I want, and I want it with you,” I maintain.
The look on his face is the most serious I’ve ever seen. War is raging in the depths of his eyes. Worry. Excitement. More worry. Until I see the moment he makes his decision.
“Fine. I’ll do this on one condition: you promise you won’t have any expectations.” I start to say something, but he continues, “And if you begin to feel differently, then you’ll let me know, because I can’t do more than casual, Rosie. You’ve also come to mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to lose you.”
“I understand. I don’t want to lose your friendship, either,” I confess. “I know who you are, and I want more than you can offer me long term. Don’t worry,” I say confidently, although a feeling of wary concern churns
in the pit of my stomach.
As I watch his face, I think I see a brief shadow of disappointment cross his features at my words, but it quickly disappears, and I realize the thought is absurd. It’s also one that would ignite a flame of desire for something Drew just made clear was not an option.
A silence lingers between us. He studies me, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Are you sure? No strings. No commitment,” he states. The tone of his voice is telling me he wants to be firm in the stipulations of this arrangement I’m asking him to enter into with me.
Nodding, I repeat his words, “No strings. No commitments.”
Drew gives me a slight nod and abruptly stands, holding his hand out to me.
As I take it, he jerks me up and into his embrace. I want to look around to see if anyone is watching us, but I can’t take my eyes from his, and for one brief second, his gaze searches mine. Before I know what is happening, his lips are firmly against mine, coaxing my tight mouth to soften, and they do so without much effort. Drew Nallen is kissing me in the middle of the bar, and I’m kissing him back. I can feel his warmth. His control. I can feel my surrender, and it feels better than I could’ve imagined. Although intense, the kiss is short.
Drew pulls back, and when I open my eyes, he’s staring at me with a surprised haze clouding his regard, then, as usual, his dimple appears on one side, and my insides melt.
“I’m sorry, but I think the pleasure of this situation is going to be all mine,” I apologize.
His happy expression leaves his face. Shaking his head, Drew quietly scolds, “Lesson number one: never apologize or criticize yourself. It’s the first rule of being more confident.” Drew lifts one hand from my waist and places it lightly under my chin, shifting my gaze up to his. “Also, I fear your view on your capabilities is utterly skewed. I might be the one who will need to work harder on my pleasure skills.”
I can’t help myself; a smile lights up my face. I want to laugh. I want to argue, but instead, I accept his compliment as graciously as I can.
“So I’m supposed to be meeting some friends, but are you free for dinner tomorrow night?” Drew asks, still holding me in his arms as if we have done this a hundred times before today.
Falling Slowly (Falling Novella Series Book 1) Page 3
