by Nella Tyler
“Of course,” I said. “I—”
“Oh my God, where the fuck is the waiter?” Tiffany’s excessive use of the word ‘fuck’ combined with the whiny tone of her voice made it clear that this was going to be a very, very long date. I cleared my throat and glanced at the waiter, unsure whether I wanted the waiter to help Tiffany or to help me.
When the waiter came over, Tiffany was quick to go on the offense. “It’s been like 10 minutes since I got here.”
It had been less than three, but the waiter nodded nervously. “My apologies, ma’am. What would you like to drink?”
“Can I get a water?”
The waiter looked at the water that was already sitting on the table with confusion. “Ah, a fresh water?”
“With extra ice. There’s not enough ice in this one,” Tiffany said, and promptly handed the glass back to the waiter.
The waiter glanced at me as if to see if I would be angry as well. I could only shake my head slightly and do my best to look apologetic. I couldn’t believe that she was this horribly rude on top of everything else.
Tiffany talked at me about her fashion degree—it was targeted, offensive talking, because she didn’t ask me anything about myself or even let me say anything when the chance came up. She only wanted to discuss runway habits, which I didn’t have a problem with, but none of her criticism seemed particularly elevated. Everyone was a ‘fucking idiot’ or a ‘fucking bitch,’ and it didn’t seem like she cared much about anything at all.
When she started prattling on about some fashion show that she hadn’t liked, I began wondering if it was entirely too late to bail. We’d gotten our food, sure, but I could always just go by a fast food restaurant on the way home instead. I didn’t want to stay here. I didn’t want to marry her. I would be in that house with her forever. We might even have children, and while I could imagine the prosperity of the company… the company.
I had no choice. One the upside, with this date, every minute felt like an eternity—if I spend my life with her, I might never die.
As the date began to drag on into unbearable eras of waiting, I started to wander off mentally. I glanced into the non-reserved seating and a woman caught my eye. She sat alone, at a table, but I couldn’t understand why. When I got a closer look at her, I found myself truly distracted.
She looked a bit impatient, like she was waiting on someone. I could see the amber in her eyes from across the restaurant. Her hair tumbled down the slender curve of her neck and I wanted, unexplainably and suddenly, to know her name. She lifted a glass to her lips and I knew she couldn’t be there alone. A woman like her had to be spoken for. She was probably waiting on her husband.
“Um, hello?” Tiffany caught my attention with a harsh, accusatory tone. I made a mental note that I would need to get used to harsh, accusatory tones.
I smiled. “Sorry,” I offered, though I wasn’t, and when Tiffany started blabbering on about something or another, I found myself looking once more past her at the lovely woman.
Chapter Six
Briella
I adjusted my hair again and double-checked to make sure that I’d remembered my phone. After the long drive from Houston to Florida, Nina decided to take a nap with the promise to be up and ready to go the next morning. I couldn’t quite seem to get settled so easily, and wanted a drink. I was always skeptical of bars in new locations, so I decided on a place called The Amelia. It was more of a restaurant with a bar in it, and that was perfect for me.
The bartender walked over to me again, noticing that my glass was about half empty. I’d ordered a rum and Coke and didn’t even intend on finishing this one, let alone ordering another, so I prepared myself to deny her the chance to fill my glass. I always felt bad telling customer service ‘no.’ I’d worked as a waitress in high school and through most of college, and knew better than to think it mattered, and yet it still bothered me.
Instead of asking me about my drink, though, the bartender was much more friendly. “What brings you to Florida, darlin’?”
I wondered if I looked entirely foreign to the area, and offered a smile. “Just on vacation. A friend and I decided to get out of Houston for a week and come here.”
“Ooh, a vacation. I’ve been trying to get my husband to take me on one of those for years.” The bartender winked and laughed, cleaning a glass with a rag. “You said you’re from Houston?”
“Yeah. We just needed to get out of Texas for a while.”
“What’s the trouble? If you don’t mind my asking, anyway.”
It occurred to me that the bar was relatively empty, and the woman was probably bored standing there and cleaning glasses without someone to talk to. I leaned forward a little and took another sip of my rum and Coke. “Relationship troubles,” I admitted. She was a stranger; there was no harm in talking to her a little.
She looked pleasantly surprised at the juicy information. “Relationship troubles, hmm? Your boyfriend causing you grief?”
“Not anymore,” I said firmly.
She got a good laugh out of that. “Well, that’s good. I’ll tell you what, this restaurant here gets a lot of attention from rich people. It’s by the beach, but it’s not too tourist-y. The VIP section over there gets a lot of use.”
I glanced at the VIP section. There were a few couples sitting there, all well-dressed and very important looking. One man in particular caught my eye, and for a second, I got distracted. He had an unbelievably defined jawbone, and his eyes. There was no way he was here alone—sure enough, when a waiter standing to the side moved a bit, I saw a beautiful blonde woman sitting with him. Probably his wife. “Interesting.”
“So it’s a good place to find a man. Lots of college students will stop by here lookin’ for sugar daddies.”
I cringed at the insinuation that I was on the hunt for some old guy with money and some weird fetish. “Oh, that’s not, um, that’s not my gig.” Finding a man here was the farthest thing from my mind. That being said… I glanced around the counter again to catch another glimpse of the handsome man in the VIP section. His wife had to be incredibly lucky. Someone that lovely… I shook my head and scorned myself. I was definitely not here to look for a new interest.
In all honesty, I didn’t know if I ever wanted to see anyone again. I knew I probably only felt that way because of what I’d been through, but part of me wondered what would happen if I applied myself to my work. I could be successful, have some wonderful friends, and live alone without anyone to bother me. The thought was awfully appealing.
The man stood up with the woman, and I noticed that they weren’t touching. No hand-holding, no arm-holding, nothing, and it felt too foreign and strange for them to be happy and married. Or maybe they’re just not touchy-feely. And why do you care? You’re not looking.
Well, maybe I was looking. But I could look without getting attached. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me that would make me even look at anyone in a romantic way. After what I’d been through, I should have been doing anything else. I should have been questioning my sexuality, probably, or at least swearing off men forever.
I looked up and saw the back of his head as he walked out with the beautiful blonde. Oh, well. I knew that a wealthy guy with a wife wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. I knew better than to think that race wouldn’t play a role in that, too, though I’d found it easier to find people that didn’t think about it much after college.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone sit down next to me. I began to dread that it would be some man trying to get my number, and I tensed up slightly. I considered calling for the bartender to divert myself.
“Hey. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
The voice wasn’t what I was expecting. Put-together, elevated in tone, a bit formal really, though he hadn’t said anything particularly advanced. I looked to my left and was surprised to see the attractive man I’d been ogling sitting next to me. I glanced back to the door and saw that
it was a different man I’d seen leave; I’d gotten the two confused.
“No, you haven’t,” I replied. I glanced down at my half-finished rum and Coke and looked at him. He was even more attractive up close. Something told me that I ought to walk away, and I shut that thought out and decided it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him just a little bit. “To be fair, it’s a big city.”
He laughed to that assertion. “I guess. I have to admit, I thought that you were waiting for someone.”
That reminded me of the blonde he’d been with earlier. “I know for a fact that you were with someone earlier.” Was he planning on cheating on his wife with me? The thought made me wrinkle my nose, and suddenly it was hard to acknowledge him as attractive.
“Yes. Well, no.” The man ran a hand through his hair. “I, ah, I just got done with the worst blind date I’ve ever been on.”
That certainly explained the awkward body language. I couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong. They were both very beautiful people, and they looked wealthy. Surely rich people didn’t think far beyond that—at least, I couldn’t afford to think so, or else my own imagination might run wild. “Oh? She seemed pretty.”
“Pretty, sure. I, ah, I don’t like to speak badly of women. It would suffice to say it didn’t go well. My name is Dexter, by the way.” Dexter smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. It was entirely refreshing to hear a man refuse to trash a woman behind her back. I’d heard plenty of guys call their ex’s ‘bitches’ and ‘sluts,’ and refuse to do any amount of introspection as to why the relationship hadn’t worked out. It made me wonder if that woman had actually been awful. But he had asked me a question, and I came to attention enough to answer it.
“Briella.” Nina would have told me to give him a fake name, but he seemed trustworthy. “Do you live around here?” It wouldn’t hurt to get a little information. At least, nothing too personal.
Dexter nodded. “Yes, not too far from here. Do you not? Live here, that is, or near here?”
He was nervous. I couldn’t fathom what made him so jittery, but he seemed like a nervous high school boy asking me on a date. Something about it was incredibly charming, and it made me feel a little more at ease. I wasn’t dealing with some overly confident, swaggering asshole with a ton of money. “No, I don’t live here. I’m from Houston. I just came here for a vacation, and here specifically for a drink.” The Amelie seemed to have decent rum and Cokes, and the price wasn’t unreasonable.
“Can I get you a drink? Or, another?” Dexter glanced at the glass in my hand. I’d only had half of it, and didn’t intend on drinking much more than the rest of this.
The bartender seemed to materialize out of nowhere. “I’ll refill hers,” she said. When Dexter wasn’t looking, she winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. She reminded me of Nina, who I could already tell was going to be pissed when she found out I’d met a guy at a bar and didn’t immediately go to the restroom to inform her.
He ordered a drink, too, something neater and stronger than mine. “You came here from Houston, you said? Florida’s quite a ways away.”
“That’s the point of a vacation,” I reminded him. “My friend decided to take me. She’s taking a nap.”
“And missing the bar?”
“I know. Considering it was her idea, it’s weird, but this way she’ll be energetic tomorrow.” I wondered if Nina had any plans for our time here or if we were going to wander the city aimlessly, looking for drinks and a good time. We could just club, but we could club in Houston and save lots of money—coming to Florida was supposed to be for something exciting and new, not just more days and days hoping for love in a sweaty room full of strangers. It would be like her to charge into a vacation without plans.
As if reading my mind, Dexter asked, “Do you have any plans set up? Disney World or anything?”
I shook my head. “Not really. We were going to go to the beach, for sure, if the weather holds up.”
“It’s a good time of year for the beach,” he said. “You’ve got Galveston right up by Houston, don’t you?”
I laughed. He clearly hadn’t spent a lot of time in Texas. “It’s not very far, but it’s definitely not close. About an hour and a half. Besides, we wanted to get really far out. Galveston’s so familiar now.”
“I’ve never been. What’s it like there?”
“It’s not what it used to be. Well, according to my dad, anyway. But I’ve always liked it. It has a sort of an old Southern city vibe to it. The beaches aren’t as blue as they are here, but honestly, I just love the ocean.”
Dexter smiled at me, and I was honestly having a nice time being asked about myself. It felt a little selfish to be taking all the stage in this conversation, so I decided to ask him a few questions about himself.
“Where do you go, when you go on vacation?” I asked him. “Probably not Galveston.” I looked at his suit again, and I knew in my gut that he wasn’t going to Galveston for vacation. If he was, he wasn’t going to the tourist locations. I expected him to say Paris, or London, someplace intercontinental and exciting. My mind went to places with penthouses, places with people serving cocktails on silver trays. It was highly ridiculous, but that’s what I thought of, and I had a hard time separating him from that image.
He looked for a moment like he was trying to determine the correct answer to my simple question. “I’ve always had a soft spot for New York,” he finally said.
This surprised me. “Oh?” I’d expected him to admit that he had some sort of elite European retreat that he hid out in, like rich people I saw in movies.
“Yeah. It’s busy, and loud, and hectic, but sometimes I need that. I go there for business stuff sometimes, and I always try to catch a show. It’s a beautiful space.” Dexter looked a little distracted for a second as though he were going back to New York in his mind.
I found it to be a good answer, but I didn’t quite buy it. “Really? I’d had you made out to be a deluxe suite in Paris kind of guy.” If I offended him, it wouldn’t matter; he’d be gone, and I’d be gone, and nothing would have ever happened. This was completely harmless.
Dexter’s smile, coupled with the slight smirk he adapted, made my heart jump. “Well, it isn’t my go-to,” he said.
A shiver went up my spine. He was wealthy, and I had no way of knowing exactly how wealthy he was or who he was involved with. Was he a businessman? A lawyer? Maybe he was born of a wealthy family, or maybe he was a self-made man. He could be a designer, or a model. I was willing to bet money that he was a model. I smiled at him, returning that cock of the brow, and then I got off the barstool.
I was getting attached. Despite myself, I could feel a crush starting to form. It was best to leave the scene now, before I could commit the crime of attachment. “I have to get back to my hotel,” I said. “It’s pretty late.”
“I can walk you, if you’d like.” Dexter glanced outside. “It’s dangerous at night.”
I couldn’t help but think that it was hilarious that a rich man from Florida could protect me. I could certainly protect myself. I knew that it had nothing to do with my safety, though, and the fact that he wanted to spend a little more time with me excited me despite myself.
“Sure,” I said, and he walked out of the restaurant with me. I thought of the blonde woman from earlier and wondered how she’d gotten home. I didn’t ask; I didn’t want to bring her up, in case he was lying to me. I could live in blissful ignorance a few moments longer.
The streets were a little too loud for much conversation, so really, he just followed me back to my hotel. Every now and again I turned around to see if he’d left, but he was still there. I wondered if having someone follow me back to my hotel room was really the wisest idea. He could have lied to me about his entire life, after all. For all I knew, I was about to get murdered.
I got back to my hotel room without a scratch, though, and when I reached the lobby, I decided not to let him know exactly where I was staying. “I’ll go up alone,�
�� I told him.
Dexter looked a little disappointed. “Right. Um…” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. “I, ah…do you want to get dinner sometime? If you don’t have plans tomorrow, I know a place.”
This incredibly attractive and possibly wealthy man was asking me on a date. I let that sink in, and then I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t. I’m just here for the week.”
“I understand.” He smiled and took a step back as if to physically represent that he was going to leave me alone. I appreciated that; I’d experienced boys relentlessly pestering me after I’d told them no before.
I waved goodnight to him and got in the elevator. Once the doors closed, I exhaled, rubbing my temples with my fingers. I’d just turned down the offer. I could be going on a date tomorrow night with a wealthy, attractive man. I could have probably even gotten laid, or at least a very expensive meal out of the equation. It would have been nice to be held for once, instead of feeling like the world was trying to cast me out.
Then I thanked my brain for intervening and stopping me from making a horrible decision. I’d come to Florida to get away from relationships and focus on having fun for a while. It was best not to get involved with anyone while I was here. It was absurd to think anything substantial could manifest over a few days anyway, and we couldn’t possibly have enough in common that this would get out of hand.
I could manage staying out of trouble for a few days, couldn’t I?
Chapter Seven
Dexter
I racked my brain all night with ideas of what to do. I couldn’t think of a solution to the problem I’d gotten myself into, and I knew I needed to talk to someone. First thing Tuesday morning, I drove to my brother’s house, hoping that maybe he could shed some insight on my problem. Tyler was an ass, no question, and he didn’t take anything seriously. That was exactly the kind of point of view I needed for this problem, though. I’d hated my blind date and now I was infatuated with someone else based on a 10-minute conversation and a quick walk to her hotel room.
