“Half an hour ago,” I replied. “It’s possible I felt bad for how I acted earlier, so I decided to see if you were on your way out too.”
“I am. After a lovely day here, I’m looking forward to my evening shift at a hotel in Center City,” he drawled.
Oh damn. “That blows. I’m sorry about today, man. I won’t piss you off tomorrow, I promise.”
“Are you sure? You seem to have a knack for it.” He put on his helmet. Then he sighed and pulled out his bike. “Maybe I could’ve handled things better too.”
I smiled. “Water under the bridge.”
Except, now I kinda wanted this little meeting to run longer. He really was hot, and considering he’d checked me out before, it didn’t seem unlikely he was gay. A guy had to give it a go, didn’t he? My weekend was open.
“So, uh…do you have enough time to get something to eat before work?” I asked. “There’s a place down the street. They water down anything alcoholic, but their chips and guacamole are out of this world.”
He knitted his brows together. “You wanna spend happy hour with me?”
I’d prefer a date, but we could call it happy hour between two strangers.
“Of course.” I shrugged. “I obviously want a moment to explain myself. I didn’t fucking eat paste as a kid. I ate crayons.”
Fuck yeah, he actually smiled. “Okay. Happy hour sounds good.”
Fucking A.
Yeah, I definitely wanted this to be a date.
We had the perfect setting for it too. Shitty old cantina, graffiti all over, sticky floors, small booths with torn padding, another patron shooting pool and smoking like a chimney, dimmed lighting, ice-cold sodas, the best app platter with chips, salsa, guacamole, queso, lettuce, and taquitos, and…a stereo blaring Phil Collins’s “A Groovy Kind of Love.” Romantically sticky and corny and gross and delicious. What more could a guy need?
Well, him. I sure as fuck wanted a round in the sack with him.
His name was Nathan. He was twenty-three years old and working three jobs in the summer to pay for college. He was on a partial scholarship and headed for a master’s degree in clinical psychology. One day, he was going to be like his current boss, specializing in trauma care. He was currently assisting said boss with patients.
He was originally from Phoenix, so he didn’t have any family out here.
“We moved around a bit, but always close to the West Coast,” he added. “What about you? You sound like a local.”
I nodded. “Haverford.”
He let out a low whistle. “I’ve been here long enough to know that’s fancy.”
I chuckled and crammed another couple chips into my mouth. “You’re not wrong. Both my parents grew up loaded, but they were the black sheep of their families for not following in their footsteps. Ma became a social worker, and my old man runs a scaffolding business. You may have heard of it.”
He quirked a grin.
“My brother and I still grew up comfortably,” I admitted, “but unlike the rest of the family, we were taught to work and make something of ourselves. My mom is a firm believer in sharing things you didn’t work for.”
“I like that.” He grabbed his soda. “My mother is a firm believer in marrying for money so she doesn’t have to work at all.”
I chuckled and winced. “That’s a choice too.”
“Uh-huh. Her latest husband owns a chain of tanning salons in Nevada.” He seemed kind of disillusioned by his family. I guessed they weren’t close. “I’m way closer with my dad and his wife. They’ve talked about moving out here, actually.”
That explained that.
“Are you in school too, or are you waiting to take over your dad’s business?” he asked.
“I went to trade school,” I answered. “My brother and I are gonna start our own business one day.”
“Ah. How old are you?”
