I swallow once, not ready to be out of her presence just yet, but I can tell she’s had enough for tonight. I nod, and make to turn and head back to the front door. Before I make it all the way, I turn suddenly and face her once more. She stops abruptly, almost running into me, and scans my face for the reason why.
I lean back in for another hug, unable to help myself. Her arms are more hesitant this time, but she does bring them up, stiffly holding me, while I squeeze her briefly before releasing her. “Thank you,” I whisper in her ear as I withdraw, turning back around and heading straight for the door.
That exhaustion from before? It’s vanished.
I feel lighter than I have in ages, a bounce to my step that wasn’t there on the way in, and the future finally looksbrightonce again.
NINETEEN
AARON
Kayla’s palm scratches against mine when I grip it as we enter the trendy, lounge-type restaurant where we’re meeting Gemma and her…guy.
A nod at the hostess, whose mouth falls ever so slightly at the sight of us (well, me), and I breeze right past her, pulling Kayla behind me as I lead the way. Gem and I have wanted to come here for ages, and though we haven’t made it here before, I still act like I know the place. From all the pictures she’s shown me online, I feel like I do, tbh.
It’s got this almost old warehouse vibe to it, with insanely tall ceilings and the sections with tables, booths, couches and the bar are all spaced out really far from one another, giving it a luxurious feel. I’m sure the menu prices reflect it, but I don’t mind. The place is decorated entirely in masculine decor: distressed brown leather furniture, bare Edison bulbs in unique styles hanging throughout the place, and artwork I’d love to own scattered along the walls.
Each couch, table, booth, feels like its own private setting with how they’ve laid it all out here, and it’s got an exclusive vibe, like a member’s only club, but really it’s just a restaurantfamous for their cocktail presentation. An expensive one, with really good reviews, but still.
It took a lot to convince the two of us to go out into public when we could just stay home instead, so our plans to check this place out kept getting pushed back. But it was a good choice for the double date, and I’m impressed she got us prime reservations—seven-thirty on a Friday night. She probably didn’t even drop my name, I know she tries not to. And the hostess didn’t look like she was expecting me, so I think not. A sense of begrudging approval irks me, because I can’t deny she’s good at making shit happen, and now she isn’t making shit happen formeanymore.
I bring my free hand up to wipe at the corner of my lip. Now isn’t the time to bring up sore subjects. Tonight is about reconnecting as friends, not former boss and employee.
This is our first group hang with someone she’s seeing probably…ever. I quickly rack my brain and come up with the names of a few guys she’s dated over the years, but I can’t remember ever hanging out together with any of them. This might be a night of firsts for us.
Gemma’s text plays through my mind as I follow her directions and scour the ginormous setting for her familiar form.We’re in a booth in the far back corner, across from the bar.
There.I tug on Kayla’s arm a little harder than intended, beelining for said booth before the other patrons look up and recognize me. I don’t need someone posting my location to whatever Twitter is called these days and us getting swarmed on the way out.
All I can see is some loved up couple, some lanky guy’s frame covering hers, but I know it’s them. We’re getting closer and closer, and still, they aren’t looking up. That’s okay. It gives me a few seconds to take in the scene in front of me.
Gemma’s made up in a way I’ve never seen her before. Her hair looks like it did the other day—kinda blonde, kinda curly, cute. I can’t see much of her face from this angle, this mother fucker’s hands are all over her, blocking most of my view. What I can see is that her top is white, it looks silk or something, hanging loose on her thin form, with half sleeves covering her upper arms, and this criss-crossed, low dip in the middle that I can’t help but trail my eyes down, and I feel myself thicken behind my zipper at what lies there.
Has she always had tits?
My jaw clenches in response.Get. A. Grip. Stone.I force my eyes to move away from her and ontohim.
Her date looks annoying. He’s tall, thin, wearing a white button-down that irritatingly coordinates with what she’s wearing. His sleeves are even rolled up to the elbows, same length as hers, like they’re fucking matching or something. But now I realize she’s got a flash of something gold and sparkly at the ends of her sleeves, and it looks like there’s more of it hiding behind his arms, too, like maybe she’s got a skirt on of the same material or something. I find myself trying to peer around and get a better angle to take her in, and am frustrated when most of what I see is this guy instead.
It’s always grossed me out to think of her with other guys, but it’s never before pissed me off to no end, like it’s doing seeing her with Samuel.
My insta-hatred for him flies through the roof when I see he’s moved so one of his arms is draped over her shoulders, their bodies pressed tightly together, and she’s got her own hand reached up to hold onto the one of his that’s by her chest.
They’re seriously in their own little world right now, zero fucking clue that we’ve joined their little party of two. Stefan brings his left hand, the free one, up to cup her face, and he leans in to whisper something in her ear as he practically fuckingfondles her at the table. The sweetest blush erupts across her face, and she tucks her face into his chest, as his hand moves to grip the back of her head and hold her tighter there, brushing along her hair.
Jesus fucking Christ, get a goddamn room.My head twists to take in the surrounding booths and tables, making sure nobody else is watching this display.Is this really allowed in public?
When I look back at her, it’s like a studio spotlight is shining down on her, those metal barndoors open just enough to cast light on her, and leave everyone else around us in her shadow.
I’m here,a voice that sounds suspiciously like hers says inside my head.I’ve always been here. Nice of you to finally notice.
My eyes rake up and down her frame again, taking in the beauty of her, the femininity, how absolutelygorgeousshe looks right now.
Is this what she’s looked like to everyone else all this time? Have I been blinded by our friendship for an entire fucking decade? By seeing her for who she was, not what she looked like, did I completely miss the boat?
How have I never noticed her like this before?
Right now she looks like every man’s fantasy. Innocent, wholesome, sexy as all hell, a girl you’d do anything to take home to mom. Nothing like the women I’ve spent my nights with, but I’m pretty sure the image of her, like this, tonight, will be invading those thoughts for years to come.
