My glass sits empty. The whiskey went down well. But when the bartender asks, I don’t go for seconds. I’m not here to fake it.
“Ashleigh.” A low, deep voice snags my attention. I turn to look at the man standing next to me. Before I can look up at his face, my eyes are drawn to the dark button-down shirt that’s straining against his chest.
“You must be Brad,” I say, eyes landing on his face. Brad is your stereotypical frat kind of hot. His perfect fade haircut oozes social status. The look in his eyes suggests he hasn’t moved on from the competitive hookup culture of his frat days. And his deck shoes serve as a reminder that Brad is privileged.
All in all, he’s a perfect hookup.
“What are you drinking?” I say, waiting for my skin to prickle with anticipation. I feel nothing.
“Bulletproof coffee,” he says to the bartender, and I bite back a laugh. Looks like he grew out of the drinking culture from his frat days and now treats his body like a temple. “Empty calories, bro.”
My eyes land on the bartender, who steals a glance at me likewhat the fuckbefore he turns back to the gym bro and says, “Where do you think you are?”
An hour later, we’re sitting opposite each other in the coffee shop around the corner from his temple. The gym. Me with my cappuccino, Brad with his coffee with butter and coconut oil. He’s on some intermittent fasting diet to help with his gym gains blah blah blah. I did not come to attend a seminar on using ketones as energy and how good it is even though the side effects include shitting yourself uncontrollably at random.
I’m kicking myself for not just letting him meet me at my apartment. I’m not on the app for four weeks and I’m rusty, matching with a man who insisted he buy me a drink first.
“So, are you ready to go?” I say, interjecting his spiel on how carbs are the devil. And how “science” has “literally”proved it. Yeah, where’s the systematic review (with homogeneity) of case-control studies, buddy? Oh, you don’t have that? It’s all anecdotal? I’ll stick to my milky coffee and trust my next fart.
“Almost,” Brad says as he whips out a protein bar, offering it to me.
“Gross. I mean, no thank you,” I say, bouncing my leg to keep me looking alive. I am literally dying of boredom. The complete and utter lack of chemistry is palpable.
“Do you eat burgers?” I say, as he tears into the protein bar and starts chewing excessively. I don’t know why I wanted to poke the bear.
“Do you know how many calories are in the bun alone?” he says, shaking his head at me and my stupid question. He goes on to list the calories in the makeup of a Big Mac. Wow. How did this used to be foreplay for me?
My mind wanders to Xander and his sharp tongue and the infuriating fact that he had a comeback for everything.
Witty. Smart. Sarcastic. Deadpan.
Sincere. Kind. Sweet.
God, I want that mouth.
I berate myself for wanting something I can’t have and refocus my attention on Brad and his chewing. I’m so turned off. And this makes me angry. Still, this can be salvaged. I can be leaving his apartment in an hour as chilled as Em was.
“Are we doing this?” I say out loud to Brad, but I’m actually asking myself.Am I really doing this?Am I really going to go home with this gym bro to try and fuck the feelings away?
“No, you’re not,” a low voice growls from behind me. It sends a shiver up my spine. I know that voice. I love that voice. Except, I can’t love that voice.
I look up to see Xander standing there.
He’s wearing a corporate suit without the jacket. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms, one of them decorated in his tattoos. His curls look like his hands have raked through them many times.
His anger is palpable.
“Get up, Ash,” he says through gritted teeth, his hand resting on the back of my chair. I feel the brush of his knuckles on the back of my exposed neck and it sends shockwaves through my body.
“Woah, dude. You good?” Brad says, standing like doing bicep curls at the gym gives him an advantage. Xander finally acknowledges the guy I’ve been sitting with, sweeping his eyes up and down his body before shaking his head and turning back to me.
“Bone It? Really, Ash?” he says, deadpan. I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling at his amusement. I still haven’t said a single thing to Xander rocking up to ruin my hookup. I mean, how can I since I’m mentally undressing him?
“Is this some lovers spat?” Brad says, drawing my attention away from Xander for a moment.
“No,” I say, throwing as much disgust in the tone as I can muster.
“Yes,” Xander says at the same time. I snap my head back to him, frowning.
