3

ASTRID

The moonlight that looms over the tall building gives a mysterious quality. I glance around the parking lot as Lilly puts the car in park.

“It’s jam-packed. Why don’t we check out another bar, Ritz Perhaps?” I ask Lilly, my voice betraying my chagrin.

A host of bitter feeling hurdles in my belly as the past week flickers in my mind. Tristan has been texting nonstop making millions of promises and vowing his devotion. I hate the intrusion. The fact that he’s failed to see there’s nothing left for us makes me resent him more.

How can he not see that what we shared was toxic? We fought about everything and he was ever – barely on the same page with him. If I suggest we visit a certain location for vacation, he’d end up booking suites in another country and cajoling me into accepting his decision.

Foolish me! I always did! I was so blind, so enamored by his charms and the man he pretended to be when he wasn’t acting like a dick.

“You’re going to ruin my car seat if you keep on gripping it like that, girl. Loosen your hold and relax.”

I sigh, letting my back relax firmly against the black leather seat. “What now?”

“We go in there and make tonight count. We went to Ritz bar last week and the week before. This year is for exploring every single thing life offers and that means, bars, dangerously handsome men,” she glances out the window, licking her bottom lip with a dreamy expression on her face as a dark tall man walks by the car. “You see what I’m saying, huh? If you really want to move past that motherfucker, you must be ready to do what it takes.”

I don’t see how coming to a bar is going to help me forget my ex and bury the endless stream of regret I harbor. I tell her this but instead of a politic response, Lilly throws open the car door and slides out with a sultry move of her hips.

“You have to stop sulking. Get your ass out.” She spiels.

I know staying in the car isn’t going to make her stop. Maybe she’s right though, besides, I have nothing to do back home. I’ve binge-watched all my favorite movies and tried reading my favorite books, but always end up curling into a ball and crying till my eyes sting with fatigue.

The bar is alive with people and loud music that makes my ears ring. Lilly drags me to the bar, waving her free hand in the air.

“This is good! Do you feel it?” She yells over the music

I nod, stifling a frown. There’s nothing good about being in the middle of a bar when you’d rather be someplace else and happy. But there’s no place like that. Dad is out of town and mom is neck-deep in planning some sort of party. She never gets tired. Dad says it’s good for business. Exposure – networking, and then there’s the fun. Lots of it.

“Drinks?”

I nod again. “Spritzer.”

Lilly tosses me an annoyed frown. “That won’t do. You need to get your head in the game!”

“Lilly----”

She ignores me, calling out our orders to the bartender. “Double. Don’t forget that!”

“Got you!” The man in a white uniform and a red bandana tied around his head replies.

“Tequila? Do you want to crawl home on your tongue?” I say, slightly exasperated.

She laughs. “My tongue will definitely be crawling, but on something hard and warm. Stay positive, girl. Don’t go saying stuff like that.”

I tune her out, focusing my attention on the open double door that leads to – I squint my eyes, trying to read the sign. A man walks in and stops right in front of the sign, preventing me from reading. My lip coils into a snarl. He can’t just stand there like some fucking statue.

“What are you --” Lilly starts and then she lets out a gasp, palming her mouth as the sound erupts. “Damn, you already got your eyes on that one, huh?”

The man's head turns and our eyes lock for a second. He smirks, then nods stiffly. Weird.

“He looks old,” I say, turning back to Lilly.

“And hot. That tux does him no good. Do you imagine what he’d look like in a tight-fitted T-shirt?”

I raise a puzzled brow. “No, I don’t. How about we take those drinks.” I’d rather drink than stand here and talk about some old dude who probably has a wife and three kids.

Lilly rolls her eyes. “You can’t fool me. Your cheeks are burning. That man is fine.”

“Whatever, Lilly.”

I pick up the half-filled glass of tequila and drain it in one gulp. The bartender whistles, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

“That’s the spirit!”

Before I can jack, I’m on my third glass, wiggling my ass to the music. Is that Drake’s new album? I cock my head and when the lyrics hit again, I twirl my hands in the air, bobbing repeatedly.

The crowd is wilder now. All the chairs and tables have been cleared out, but then, it’s still chock full of moving bodies. Lilly gobbles another glass of tequila. That’s her fifth.

“What’s the target?” I yell, nodding at the empty glass in her grip.

She grins drunkenly. “Till I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

I want to ask her how she plans to make it home if she can’t walk, except for the fact that I already know the answer.

“Maybe I should stop chugging these down. One of us needs to stay sane.”

She shakes her head and pushes a glass into my hand. “Drink up. It’s more fun if we’re both shit-faced.”

“Lilly ---” The protest dies on my lips as she dashes into the crowd, disappearing out of sight. I throw back my head and scarf down the face-twisting liquid. I smack the glass down on the bar and grab the edge with both hands as my head spins.

“Easy lady. Don’t hurt your skin now.” A random guy says, glancing at my hand wrapped tightly around the glass.

“Go away!” I screech.

The guy raises his palm upwards and then turns around.

The crowd hollers a name as the DJ switches up to another song. The upbeat sound prompts me to start moving more than just my hips. I place my hands on my knees, lower my back, arch it slightly, and then twist my hips in tune with the beat. Lilly was right. I feel good. I feel lighter and my head is no longer swelling with thoughts of my past. Tristan can go to hell. Tonight, I’ll have all the fun in the world.

Gathering all my wit, I request another glass. It’s getting really hot in here. I scour the room for Lilly. She’s probably somewhere hunting for –

“What are you having?”

I stop moving and tilt my head to look at the man whose front is pressed against my side. It’s him! The older man with a banging body. Why is he standing so close? I make to move away but my feet wobble, forcing me to lean into him for support.

He wraps my hands around my waist and guides me towards the barstool. “I think whatever it is you’re drinking isn’t a good choice. You’re drunk.”

“I might be drunk, but not enough to entertain your company.” I shoot at him.

“Thank goodness. I doubt I want to deal with a drunken woman tonight.” He shoots back, but his lips betray him, twitching in a smile. Lilly was right. He’s the bee’s knee and his eyes, I can drown in their soulful depth.

“You’re drooling.” He says yaks with a throaty laugh. “Is that approval I gauge in your eyes?”

My face reddens. I can feel it burning with embarrassment. Are my emotions conspicuous?

“Your face, it’s plain as a pikestaff. You were checking me out.”

I give a sarcastic eye-roll. "Don’t flatter yourself.”

He laughs. “It’s alright if you decide not to admit it. I know what I saw and that’s enough for me to stick around you.”

“Does your wife know that you’re here?”

His face takes on a pained expression. I watch him lower his head and massage his ring finger slowly. There’s a ring there, so why is he acting like I shot him in the fucking groin?

“She’s dead. Died a long time ago.”

My gaze drops to his hand and the ring. He exhales slowly, straightening. I know pain. I can sense it anywhere. Right now, this man isn’t just wearing pain, he’s soaked with it. He must have been so in love. Probably like my parents. Those two make me want to crawl into a corner and hide sometimes. They are always feeling each other up and saying mushy shit and playing cheesy games.

“I’m sorry.”

He tilts his chin upwards. “Are you?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry that you lost your wife.”

“Have you lost someone before?”

“Lost – like lost?”

He chuckles. “Yes. Lost like lost.”

“Does a breakup count?”

There’s a brief pause followed by a shake of his head. “I guess? It's akin to losing. That means the person is no longer in your life and doesn’t share anything with you anymore.”

“That’s what it is. I doubt we’ll be sharing anything anymore. I don’t even want that to be honest.”

“So it was your decision then?”

I nod.

“Was it mutual?”

The text messages, and calls. And oh, there was a flower and a piece of jewelry in a box in my car yesterday. It’s definitely not mutual.

“No.”

“He’d be crazy to let you slip away without a fight.”

I give him a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I’m still getting to know you. How about you ask me this question after a – let’s say a week?”

I want to laugh but his serious expression forces it back to my belly. He’s not kidding.

“That’s quite bold of you. Do you think we’ll meet again after tonight? I don’t like this bar and I doubt I’ll be coming back here.”

“There are other bars.”

“I know. I’m just saying that there’s a fat chance we won’t run into each other again.”

“We can find a way to make it work. Don’t you agree?”

I pause for a minute to gather my thoughts. Apart from being stunning, he’s decent and a perfect gentleman. When I fell into his arms, he didn’t allow his hand to drift past my waist. Most men would have grabbed the chance to feel me up and grind into my backside. But he’s old. Old like my dad, perhaps even more than dad.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 45.” He says without hesitation.

Dad is 47. Two years apart. This isn’t going to work out. Wait- - - I’m way over my head. What if he just wants to be friends?

“You’re frowning. Does my age bother you?”

I can sense uncertainty in his voice. I glance at the brimming crowd and then back at him. He’s definitely not here for friendship – not with that look – his eyes roaming across my face, pausing at my lips and drifting back to my eyes.

Every part of me becomes aware of him. My heartbeat heightens, and even my breath comes out a tad bit faster than normal.

For the briefest second, I imagine a million and one ways he can run his hands over my skin. Will he be gentle? Rough? Dominating?

Will he pay attention to the deepest part of me?

I shut my eyes as an image of Tristan and me making love drifts to the surface of my mind. There were moments when I wanted nothing but to lock myself in the bathroom until he went away. I was in love, so none of it mattered because I found a way to make it work.

“Hey.” His minty breath fans my face.

In the heat of a moment, my mouth becomes painfully aware of his full lips. The music fades and my mind floods with a make-up image of him naked. I squeeze my thighs, grateful for the dim lights that conceal the movement.

“You’ve not answered my question. Does my age bother you?” He takes my hands in his and strokes my palms with his thumbs. “Because if it doesn’t, I’d love to dance with you.”

Goosebumps cover my skin. His request overshadows all the thoughts running through my mind.

His eyes drill into mine with raw emotion. Need? Plea? Apprehension?

“Please?” He whispers the words, his fingers knotting through mine.

My head makes a subtle nod before I can utter the word forming at the tip of my tongue.

“You have no idea how excited I am about meeting you.” He says, pulling me up gently and right into his waiting arms.

I don’t even know his name and my body is already aching to be wrapped around him. This isn’t how I envisioned tonight. And quite frankly, this is far from what I expected.