by Haley Travis
I love the way her head tilts when she’s thinking. The way she stares into space for a moment as if she’s seeing another world entirely. I understand that look all too well.
“How long have you been coming to this bar?” she asks.
“Over two years. We come here every other week for a roommate meeting and to hang out, then sometimes Dan and I come here on Fridays to shoot pool in the back.”
“I’ll be right back,” she says. “Watch my stuff.”
My eyes rake over her perfect figure and incredible hips as she rises, marching over to the bar. She’s sassy. Interesting. Sharp. Another set of attributes that I had no idea I was looking for in a woman until this very second.
Somehow, being cautious about a simple thing like giving me her number is a wild turn on. I’ve never wanted a woman like this. Which is to say, I’ve never wanted a woman like her, and I’ve never wanted a woman with my entire body and soul.
This was the sort of pure, instant desire that inspired love poems and oil paintings. Classic. Timeless.
And now I realize that the entire fate of my love life might be in Jenna’s hands. It’s clear to see that the two of them are discussing me.
I’ve always been a fairly good tipper, but I wish to hell I had given her one more important tip.
“Please, please say something nice about me – I’m already sure she’s the love of my life.”
CHAPTER THREE
~ Tanis ~
I hope that Felix doesn’t think I’m impossibly rude for taking off on him, obviously to ask the bartender about him, but I don’t give my number to just anyone. Far too many horror stories of women being sent dirty texts at all hours of the night, with and without attached photos of extremely unsexy and offensive photos of male appendages.
I want Felix to be one of the good guys. There was an energy about him that made me feel brand new things. But I have to at least do some homework first.
“Hey, Jenna.” I lean far across the bar. “You see that guy I was just talking to?”
“Yeah. That’s Felix. He and his roommates and some other friends come in here quite a bit.”
“Have you ever seen him here with a girlfriend?”
She shakes her head, sending blonde chunks swishing around her cheekbones. “Nope. Never.”
“Does he pick up women here a lot? Is he a player?”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Now that you mention it, no. He chats to everyone a fair amount. Definitely the outgoing talkative type. But this is his local hangout. It’s not a pick up bar to him.”
“Would you say he’s a good guy? A guy worthy of a total stranger’s phone number?”
That lipstick clad grin grows wide and she nods her head firmly. “Absolutely. He’s polite, well spoken, and seems to have his shit together.” She leans closer. “Plus, I’ve never seen him look at any woman the way he’s looking at you right now.”
Instinctively I glanced back over my shoulder to see Felix studying me carefully.
“Go for it,” she says. “I give him my official stamp of good guy approval. Go on a couple of dates. What the hell, right?”
“Thanks. And hey – what’s he drinking?”
She reaches for a fancy beer glass from the shelf behind her. “Belgian Trappist ale. Do you want one?”
“No, I’ll have another lemon drop, please. It was amazing. But the beer is for him.”
Jenna pours the drinks quickly, smiling from ear to ear. “That’s a baller move, buying him the first drink. Establish your power. Well played, sister.”
“Thanks.” I pay her, add a slightly extravagant tip, then bring the drinks back to my table.
I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but the whole thing feels like it’s been taken out of my hands. I was never very close to my parents, and then I moved away. Attempting to date in college didn’t work because I didn’t trust any guy enough to try for a real connection.
I’ve already bonded with Felix through laughter more than I can understand, which has given the element of hope a chance to jump up and start circling my mind. Maybe, just maybe, there might actually be someone cute on this planet that I click with.
As soon as he sees I have the right kind of beer in my hand, Felix jumps up to take it from me, with the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen.
“Thank you so much. Does this mean I’m worthy of your phone number?”
I sit back in my chair and take a sip of my cocktail. “It means that you are worthy of further conversation.”
His eyes absolutely blaze as he chuckles. If he is this cute and sexy while he’s pleased with a simple beverage, I can’t wait to see what expression he makes when…if…things go further.
“So what do you do, Tanis?”
Why on earth does my name sound so good rolling off his tongue?
“I’m an office assistant at Healthy Communities, a division of the city’s Public Health Department.”
“Cool. Is it interesting?”
I take another sip of lemony sweetness. Yikes, these things could get addictive quickly.
“The work is just work. You know how it is. But the pay is more than fair, and the people are really nice. It’s good to know that there’s someone keeping an eye on our city, and making sure things are safe. Plus the hours are great – nine to four-thirty weekdays. Pretty much the only time we ever have to work late is during our year-end catch up week.”
“That’s pretty sweet,” Felix nods.
“What about you?” I ask.
His eyes shift in a way I can’t read. I wonder if he’s going to feed me some line to try to impress me. Then he laughs. “I write the music you never remember.”
“Huh?”
He sets his beer down, leaning a little closer as he turns to me. “You know those little fragments of music in between segments on a TV show, or as they fade to a commercial?”
“I guess I’m aware they’re there. But you’re right, I don’t really think about them.”
“Exactly. It’s a tiny soundscape to evoke a certain energy, then disappear.”
“And you write those?”
He grins with pride. “I compose them, perform all of the instruments, and mix them. I’m sort of my own mini recording studio that specializes in three minute and under sound clips.”
“Weird. But neat.”
“Exactly, right?” He laughs. “My mom is pretty old-fashioned, and when I try to explain to her that I’m a musician, she keeps asking me when my new album is coming out.”
“Do you write real songs as well?” I ask, then stop myself, flustered. “I mean, not that the other stuff isn’t real music. You know what I mean.”
To my relief he simply chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve dabbled here and there. But for some reason I can’t be serious when writing stuff like that. I start out with a heartfelt love song, and then it ends up being about beer.”
My belly tightens and my cheeks feel a little sore as I realize I haven’t laughed so much in a long time. “So you’re a comedian?”
“Completely unintentionally. Sort of.”
His eyes narrow as he stares at my laptop strangely. He almost looks angry. “Play that yellow drink clip again.”
I can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s not being rude, he’s in the middle of an idea. I play it immediately, staying silent so that he can process whatever is going on in his head.
When it finishes, he simply says, “Again.” I tap the play button once more.
When it ends, he replays it several more times, then leans back, sipping his beer thoughtfully. After about two minutes of simply staring at my laptop, he blinks hard and turns to me. “Do you have more clips like this?”
“Yes.”
“How many? Like at least twenty?”
“Likely at least fifty that are finished. Why?”
He pulls a thumb drive from his pocket. “Can I have just a few of them, please? For an experiment.”
“Sure.”
I po
p in the drive and quickly load up what I consider to be five of my best clips so far, including the lemon drop explosion.
Felix grins as I hand back the aluminum key. “Sorry, I kinda zoned out there.”
“No worries. I do it all the time.”
He leans closer, his hand falling to my knee. “I’m glad. Some people say that creative people shouldn’t be with other creative people, because it’s too much chaos. But I think that only another truly creative person would understand these sorts of bizarre moments that we have. Right?”
I nod slowly. “I guess so. I mean, I was once dating someone briefly when I was in university, and he couldn’t understand that when I was writing the first draft of a paper, I couldn’t be disturbed for twenty-four hours no matter what. He took it personally.”
It was hard to speak coherently as his fingers trailed lightly over my knee, but I found myself leaning closer.
“Exactly,” he says. “It’s not personal, it’s art. Or writing. Creating. Whatever. There are many instances where the work comes first, and a casual coffee date has to be canceled.”
“With extensive apologies the next day, of course,” I said, lifting my eyebrows slightly.
“Oh, of course. But see, a creative person would actually understand when they got a text two hours before a date, that said something like – sorry – creative zone – can’t form sentences for next ten hours.”
“Some people get offended at the tiniest things,” I say. “It seems so strange.”
“Right?. I dated a few girls many years ago that expected us to be in constant contact at all times. They would text me while they were in line at the supermarket, and would get bent out of shape if I didn’t stop working to entertain them for the three minutes they were bored. Who lives like that?”
I laugh again. “If you’re never apart, what do you have left to talk about?”
“Exactly.” His hand lifts from my knee to slowly slip my fingers through his. I appreciate that he moves cautiously, giving me every opportunity to pull back. But I don’t.
Having only had one short, bland relationship that had zero spark, I feel like I’m completely unprepared for this. With Felix, the spark happened the second our eyes met. Now there is a wall of fire that might burn up all common sense and leave me helpless.
“Tanis, you feel this, right?”
There’s no way to explain the things I’m feeling, since I haven’t had a chance to straighten them all out yet. “I feel something, yes.”
“Then please…” He pulls his phone out of his pocket with his free hand. “Can I have your number?”
I take the phone, and a beautiful flood of relief spreads across his handsome face. Reluctantly taking my hand back, I try to open the contacts app but it’s locked.
“It wants your code,” I say, handing it back to him, but he waves me off.
“7483.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re telling me your password? Just like that?”
“I want you to trust me, Tanis. I know there’s a lot more going on here than we’re even aware of yet. I live at 748 Mortimer Street on the third floor. So now you have my address as well.”
Unlocking the phone, I type my name, number, and email. “Maybe you could send me some links to your music?”
“Maybe I will.”
I shouldn’t feel his smile running up and down my spine like this. I shouldn’t feel the intensity of his gaze across my lower lip like this. Everything about him is lighting me up, and I’m shocked at how strangely satisfying it is.
Felix glances back to his friends, who are waving him over. “Do you want to come meet the guys?”
“Not tonight. I should probably leave you to your roommate meeting .” I finish my drink, then pack up my laptop.
“Dinner tomorrow?” he asks hopefully. “Yes?”
“Yes.” The word pops out of my mouth before I can even consider stopping it.
As I stand, Felix leaps to his feet. “Tanis?”
He’s taller than I realized, at least six foot three. It makes me feel tiny and girlish. “Yeah?”
I look up into those dazzling hazel eyes and feel all of my shields drop. His hand snakes around my hip to pull me close. His faint sun and sand fragrance washes over me and I feel how incredibly warm he is.
He leans down to whisper in my ear, “I’m going to be counting the minutes until I see you again.”
He pulls back slowly, then pauses to give me a soft, dreamy kiss on the cheek. How strange that nobody has ever kissed me there before. How odd that I feel it so deeply. Those perfect lips and breath against my skin are so sweet.
I’m flushed and floaty as he straightens up, saying, “Get home safe, beautiful.”
Smiling and nodding, I wave to him, then to Jenna as I leave.
I don’t think my boots even touch the sidewalk on my way home. It is far too soon to be making any assumptions, but there is a deep, swirling feeling in my stomach that Felix is…important. His huge, odd energy is just what I’ve been craving.
CHAPTER FOUR
~ Felix ~
My morning ritual is almost always identical. Water. Run five miles. Coffee. Lift weights for twenty minutes or more at the gym downstairs. By then I’m conscious enough to see straight and actually be aware of the world around me.
But this morning I wake up with a goofy smile already on my face, and my run feels more like dancing. Even the most mundane details are now made exciting, tinted with the knowledge that I’ll be seeing Tanis tonight.
I absolutely can’t wait to see her again. However, I want to put together a date that will truly impress her.
As I stretch after my workout, I try to remember what little I’ve learned about dating over the years. Not just through my own trial and error, but what I’ve heard from my friends.
Tanis seems a bit different, which is amazing, and I get the sense that a high profile table at an exclusive restaurant probably isn’t her thing. My sneakers shuffle to the loft’s huge open kitchen to pour another coffee.
What will make Tanis happy? What will light her up from inside?
She seemed slightly surprised that she was laughing so hard last night. That is definitely a possible direction.
Maybe she’d be more comfortable with something light. Low-key. Where we can just be comfortable and hang out, but still special in some way.
Damn, that is a lot to cram into a date with only eight hours to prepare.
Sitting at the large round table made from a vintage clothing store sign, I start to take notes on my phone. Something funny. Simple. And hopefully something she’s never done before.
A couple of ideas begin to develop, as I check my email. One of my main clients, Gretchen, has been warning me for a week that she was going to be sending me a new project. I assumed that it was going to be one of her usual documentaries about the history of obscure architecture in a small town that nobody has ever heard of, since she sends me at least one of those every month.
But when I open a new email from her, I see instead an outline for a collaboration she is starting with local writers to create a sketch comedy show.
The problem is, it’s being done on a shoestring budget, and each writer is shooting material with their own gear, in whatever location they can find.
Visually, nothing is going to match. But instead of fighting it, they are embracing it, and will be adding fifteen- to thirty-second clips of animations and music between each segment as a palate cleanser.
Suddenly I’m on my feet and I don’t even know why.
Wait – yes, I do. That must be why I wanted a sample of clips from Tanis. When she played the exploding lemon drop for me last night, I instantly imagined strange, almost carnival music behind it, with a few offbeat spoken words. Sort of old timey and unusual.
I’m not sure why it locked in my mind, but to me, it was one of the most amusing things I’d thought of in a long time.
Those clips might be absolutely perfect for Gretche
n’s project. Plus, it could be a chance to showcase the beautiful work of my beautiful Tanis.
Yes, I’m already thinking of her as mine. So sue me.
Sitting down again, I sip my coffee as I hear rustling behind me.
