The Other Side of Someday (19 page)

“Even then, nothing will change between us,” I said, my voice firm. “Sebby and me… We’re friends. Really good friends. I can’t destroy that.”

“And you think a more intimate relationship would?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I could never risk finding out.”

“He means that much to you?”

“His friendship does. I know it’s crazy, but since the day I gave him a bloody nose all those weeks ago, I felt a connection to him. At first, before I knew who he was, yes, I was attracted to him. Then I realized that friendships are just as important as having an intimate relationship with someone. I’ve only slept with one person in my entire life. Hell, I’ve only
kissed
one person. This is my chance to finally experience what life has to offer me, including friendships I never thought I’d have with people like you and Sophia…”

“And Sebby,” Marcel finished my thought.

“Exactly.” I leaned back in the booth, a satisfied expression on my face. I wondered if he believed me. I wasn’t even sure
I
believed what I was saying.

“Well, Miss Dixie, I can certainly see where you’re coming from. Friendships are important…” He stood up. “But regret can be a bitch, too.” He kissed my temple and headed toward the bar and the cute bartender.

I remained in the booth and allowed the atmosphere to consume me. Since I had started writing, people-watching had become one of my favorite sources of inspiration and material. New ideas never seemed to be in short supply, and tonight was no different. Young professionals crowded the bar, ordering whatever trendy drink they could. Some people were on the dance floor, moving to the rhythm of the mix the DJ was playing. It was the kind of place people went just to say they were there. I felt somewhat intimidated, surrounded by tall blond women who all looked like cookie-cutter versions of each other. I wondered when they had eaten last, each of them waif-like with made-up eyes and paper straight hair. I wasn’t overweight by any stretch of the imagination, but I liked knowing that a gentle breeze wasn’t going to blow me away.

“Is this seat taken?” A strong voice broke through my observations. I raised my head to see a man whom I estimated to be in his late thirties looking down at me. He had a two-day stubble on his jaw, haunting silver eyes, and a full head of dark hair. His nose was slightly crooked, making me wonder whether he was a hockey player. He had that kind of vibe about him, despite the sport jacket he wore over a collared shirt with the first few buttons undone, exposing a hint of dark chest hair.

Glancing over my shoulder to make sure he was, in fact, speaking to me, I returned my eyes to his, noticing a hint of eagerness as he awaited my answer. I gestured to the opposite side of the booth. “Help yourself, I suppose.”

He beamed his too bright for words smile at me and I felt like a giddy schoolgirl, flustered that the hottest guy in class was actually talking to me. And, for once, it wasn’t a joke. I imagined this guy was an intellectual type who knew enough to take care of his body. The dark glasses he wore perfectly accented his distinguished features, bringing forward fantasies of a hot student-teacher roleplay. And yes, “Hot For Teacher” was totally blaring during said fantasy.

Drawing my lip between my teeth, I knew it was readily apparent that I was ogling this fine specimen of a man. Worse, I was pretty sure
he
knew I was practically drooling over him. I was in lust, and not just normal lust. I was in
take me in this booth right now and clear out the cobwebs of the past decade
lust, possible arrest for indecent exposure be damned.

“I’m Declan,” he said in an even tone, holding his hand out.

“Baylee,” I barely squeaked out. My brain was yelling at me to imitate his gesture and allow him to take my hand, but I was still frozen in place, mesmerized by his voice. I had to suppress the urge to answer “Yes, Professor” to any further inquiries.

Finally snapping back to reality so this complete stranger didn’t think I wasn’t all there mentally, I reached my hand across the table, allowing him to take it in his. He didn’t break eye contact as he shook it, his motions slow and deliberate. His hand was large in comparison to mine, his skin rough and manly. All I could think was that he must work with his hands.

I wanted him to work
me
with his hands.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing here all alone?” he asked smoothly, Rico Suave-like.

“Technically, I’m not alone. I came with a friend, but I got ditched for a guy.” I shrugged, sipping my drink.

“I’m sorry,” Declan offered.

“Don’t be.” I waved it off. “If you can’t enjoy your own company, whose can you?”

A small smile grew on his lips, the right side slightly higher than his left. I’d call it a smirk, but that didn’t adequately convey the cool attitude this guy exuded. “That’s something I don’t hear often.”

“Why is that?”

“Most girls I meet seem to be of the mob mentality.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

“They’re so insecure, they refuse to even go to the bathroom without an escort.”

A look of disgust crossed my face. “I like my privacy. There’s something to be said of solitude.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” His bold eyes met mine again. He gave off an air of mystery that I found myself being drawn to. He was in complete control of his actions. He wasn’t nervous or flustered. He was confident and assertive with a hint of cockiness. The longer he sat across from me, studying my every move, the more intrigued I was about him…and the more I was no longer thinking about Sebby and our “friendship”, which was exactly what I needed, wasn’t it?

“So, Declan.” I lowered my gaze, completely unnerved by the intensity of his mere presence. “What do you do?”

He ran his finger around the top of his pilsner glass as he considered my question. I was kind of expecting him to tell me he was a porn star. Marcel had informed me that the San Fernando Valley…more specifically, Chatsworth…was the porn capital of the world. Then again, I had walked in on Will watching porn on more than one occasion. From what I had seen, the men in those movies weren’t exactly attractive.

“I’m a doctor,” he responded. I would have been lying if I said a flurry of excitement didn’t rush through me at that moment. I flashed back to all those corny soap operas I watched with my friends when I was a teenager. We always swooned over the tall, dark, handsome, mysterious doctor. He would always be treating a wealthy woman with whom he had secretly been having an affair, unbeknownst to her husband. The tension in the hospital room could be cut with a knife as the woman had to decide between a moderately wealthy sex on a stick doctor and an older man with more zeros in his bank account than one could imagine. And the crazy bitch always chose the extremely wealthy old guy who worked countless hours and never paid her any attention. I would have chosen the doctor every time.
 

“You must have your pick of women then,” I joked. “What made you come over here to talk to me?”

“In my line of work, you learn to read people fairly well, and there was something about you that interested me. Not to mention,” he continued, leaning in closer, “most of the women in this bar have had more plastic surgery than anyone should undergo. I prefer natural beauty to the fake, Botox-injected attempts to be beautiful.” He paused and raised his glass to his lips. “Plus, I’m a sucker for a natural redhead.”

I tried to hide my smile, but it was useless. It didn’t matter how many times you heard it. There was nothing like a man calling you beautiful. I had never been one of those women who was timid or shy around men. I never put myself down just to fish for a compliment. I wasn’t self-absorbed, and I never put on an act just to get a handsome man’s attention. Still, I never got tired of hearing a man call me beautiful…particularly a man as handsome, intriguing, and professional as Declan appeared to be.

“Well, who is
this
?”

I tore my gaze from Declan’s and smiled at Marcel standing just to the side of the booth, interrupting our moment.

“Marcel,” I began, seeing how interested and probably even surprised he was that an incredibly attractive man had stolen his seat, “this is Declan. Declan, this is my friend, Marcel.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Marcel held his hand to Declan and shook it lightly.

“My friend who ditched me for another guy,” I explained to Declan, causing a look of understanding, perhaps even relief, to cross his face.

“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do,” Marcel joked in a slow drawl.

“Well, I’ll let you two continue with your evening.” Declan got up from the booth. “It was lovely talking to you, Baylee.” He grabbed my hand and brushed his lips against it, sending a delicious chill down my spine. I didn’t know if it was the combination of his smooth voice, the mysterious way he carried himself, or those piercing eyes, but I was completely mute, my voice nowhere to be found. All I could do in response was giggle. I fucking giggled. At a seriously drool-inducing man.

“It was nice meeting you, Declan,” Marcel said, saving me from embarrassment.

“You, too.” He winked at me one last time before retreating from our table. I couldn’t take my eyes off his attractive backside the entire time he made his way across the bar and toward a high-top table, rejoining who I assumed to be his friends.

“Holy Doctor McDreamy,” I exhaled, leaning back in my seat. I wiped my lower lip of the remnants of my Manhattan. I wanted to believe it wasn’t drool.

“You’ve been watching too much
Grey’s Anatomy
.”

“No,” I insisted. “For real. He’s a doctor.”

“Or so he says. You can’t always trust what comes out of the mouth of a guy you meet in a bar. He could have just been saying that to get into your pants.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “Hell, he could be gay, too, for all I know. I don’t exactly have a great track record with these things.”

Marcel glanced across the bar to where Declan was drinking with his group of well-dressed, well-groomed friends. “I wouldn’t rule it out, but I’m not getting a strong vibe that he is. Plus, he came over here to talk to you.”

“Dennis went out of his way to talk to me, too. That didn’t mean shit.”

“True, but I noticed something when Doctor McDreamy, as you call him, was looking at you that makes me almost certain he’s straight.”

“What’s that?” I asked, my stomach clenching.

“When he—”

“Marcel,” a deep voice cut through and we both snapped our heads up to see our bartender standing off to the side of the booth. “I’m off now. I just wanted to come over and say goodbye.”

“Baylee, this is Nicholas. Nicholas, Baylee.”

“Nice to meet you.” I smiled.

“Likewise.” He returned his attention to Marcel. “Stop by again. I work most nights.”

Marcel lowered his head, surprising me. For the first time since I had met him, he didn’t act like the self-assured man I knew him to be. He was timid and uncertain.

“I’ll do that,” he said, blushing. It was obvious he liked this guy.

I fidgeted with my martini glass. I had no problem with people who were gay, but I felt awkward as the two men said goodbye, like I was intruding on a private moment. Still, I couldn’t turn my head. I was mesmerized with how into each other they appeared to be. I wished love was this easy for everyone.

“Please do.” Nicholas placed his hand over Marcel’s and squeezed, then left us alone, glancing over his shoulder one last time before disappearing into the crowd of people.

“Marcel,” I urged, “go after him. Get his number. Ask him out. Do
something
.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied nervously.

“You like him. Why wouldn’t you want to see where this could go?”

“He probably only came over here because I’m a big tipper.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on. He likes you. He wants to see you again. Put your big girl panties on and ask him out. Remember… Regret can be a bitch.” I smirked as I threw his own words back at him.
 

“Oh, you hussy!”

I gestured toward the front door of the bar where Nicholas was saying his goodbyes to the doorman. “Go!”

Resolved, Marcel straightened his spine and stood, taking a few small steps toward the door before turning back to me. “But what about you?”

“What about me?” I shot back. “I’m going to sit here, enjoy my drink, and people-watch. Then I’ll go home. Go. And I want to hear all about it tomorrow night!” I ushered him away.

He remained still as he looked between me and Nicholas.

“Do I need to drag you over there?”

“All right. All right. I’m going.” He started across the room, adjusting his jeans and jacket as he did. I tried not to stare as he approached Nicholas, but I couldn’t help it. Both men were smiling nervously as they spoke to one another. I had no idea what they were talking about, but when I saw Nicholas grab Marcel’s hand and lead him out of the bar, I got a good feeling about them.

Half the trouble of finding the right person is opening your eyes to see what’s right in front of you. Sometimes you’re blind to everything around you so you need someone else to act as your glasses.

After finishing my drink with little interruption, I decided to call it a night. As I approached the door to leave, a strong hand grasped my arm. I whirled around, only to be greeted by those piercing silver eyes once more.

“Declan,” I said, breathless, trying to maintain my composure that was slowly leaving me. Gay or not, doctor or not, porn star or not, there was a part of me that wanted him to haul me out of that bar at that instant.

“Baylee…” He hovered over me. I hadn’t noticed his height earlier, but he had to be nearly a foot taller than I was. I felt so small compared to him. “I know this sounds crazy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night.”

“It does sound a bit crazy,” I said, trying to break the intensity between us. “You don’t even know me.”

“No, but I’d like to
get
to know you. Can I take you out next Wednesday? It’s the only night I’m not on call.”

I studied him, wishing Marcel had finished his thought about how he knew he was definitely straight. After everything with Dennis, I was second-guessing myself.