I remove my coat. “Sounds great, thanks.”
“Your dress is a mirror ball!” The bartender nods at the shimmering material that stops above my knees. Its built-in shapewear keeps me snug and my breasts from spilling out. “Forgive me for staring, but wow. I’m Leah, by the way.”
“Miriam. It’s nice to meet you, and thanks.”
She pulls a bottle of Prosecco from the refrigerator below the bar, which is illuminated by a wall of shelves. “I take it you have plans tonight? Can’t let a dress like that go to waste.”
“Coming back from a dinner,” I say.
“An early New Year’s Eve celebration?”
I smile. “Something like that.”
The Buffalo Steel is officially under new ownership. The league agreed to let Four Kings Sports and Entertainment purchase the team. Julian is now co-owner, along with three partners—Preston Donnelley, Miles Walker, and Terrence Reyes. They’re all friends, and they now make Buffalo the first Black-owned professional rugby team in the RLA. Preston, Miles, and Terrence flew in with their wives ahead of a couples’ trip in order to finalize last-minute paperwork and celebrate. The signed agreement permits Julian to split his ownership with Antonio once he retires. He still plans to play for the foreseeable future, but he’ll own a piece of the team he’s poured into since its inception.
Leah sets my cocktail on a napkin and slides it over. “Thank you,” I say after a sip. “This is delicious.”
She winks and wipes down the onyx counter. A spiderweb tattoo on her hand peeks out from her cuff. It matches the one behind her ear.
“Heading home after this?” she asks.
“I hope so. I’m meeting someone here. I don’t know his plans for the rest of the night, but I wanted a redo.”
“A redo?”
“I was at this very bar a few years ago on New Year’s Eve,” I say, my finger tracing the rim of my glass at the memory. “I made a promise to myself but didn’t get a chance to fulfill it.”
Traveling down to DC before the end of the year required a detour to the place that changed my life. Antonio and I cameback to this bar the weekend the Steel played DC before the playoffs. But tonight feels different.
The night I stumbled in here on shaky heels and in my sister’s dress, I was nervous to take risks outside of the comfort of habit and empirical evidence. Forsaking the tradition of pajamas and snacks at my father’s house not only led to romantic love, but it brought me to a version of myself I never imagined possible.
I gave up a life of hard wigs that night. I’m still the same Miriam with Twizzlers in my purse, but I now enjoy a softer era with more adventures and laughter. Settled and confident enough to assert my needs.
And tonight, I’m definitely sitting on someone’s penis.
My pulse quickens when the front door opens. Tobacco and cedar drift over to invade my nostrils amid the hum of soft jazz. Smooth steps roll over concrete to excite my attention, the same way they did four years ago. Only this time, the shiver rippling through me is not of fear but welcome anticipation.
“Mind if I join you?” Antonio’s voice kisses between my legs.
I wet my lips. “Sure.”
He folds himself onto the stool next to me, swallowing my personal space. The swell of his thighs invades my legs, which he brings between his with a pull of my seat. He towers over me, the width of his chest and shoulders testing the flexibility of the button-down stretched over his frame.
We already tested my flexibility in his condo before the celebration dinner. No bloody noses or ER visits involved.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I offer.
He shakes his head. “We’re not staying long.” His gaze slides over my lips to my breasts and exposed thighs, which he squeezes. I draw in a sharp breath at his stare. It tingles the pit of my stomach and flares in silent expectation.
“You look edible,” he says. His husky tone skates over my lips when he leans closer. “Can I take you back to my place?”
I giggle and push him away. “That’s not how this is supposed to go.”
He frowns. “We already knew each other back then.”
“Knewofeach other. What would you have done if I’d never revealed my intentions that night? Indulge me, please.”
He lifts my hand to kiss the inside of my wrist. “I would have told you what I should’ve told you four years ago: that I’ve always liked you, and I want the chance to love you for the rest of my life. Then I would have grabbed your coat, paid your tab, and asked if you were ready.”
