“Kinda,” I agreed, grinning.
The moment spiraled out between us like a ripple in water, softening into something almost wistful. He glanced at his drink, only just a few sips left, and then at mine, still half-full. “Another?”
I tilted my glass, lazy trails of mezcal clinging to the inside as if it refused to be rushed. Same. “On you?”
“Naturally.”
“Then yes,” I said, true to this character I was playing. It wasn’t a perfect fit, nothing quite like my silken shirt, but God, this was the most fun I’d had in a while. Yeah, that was probably a red flag. I filed it away as something to unpack at some point between tomorrow and never. “Make it two of what you’re having, please.”
His answering smile was slow and confident, maybe even a little hungry. While the bartender poured, I felt the room shrink to the span of wood between us, music and voices receding like the tidal ebb of water.
Two mezcal Negronis kissed the counter. Nice. Jesse paid without ever looking away from me.
The bar spit us out into a neon street. It must have rained in the last hour, the concrete glimmering with puddles that reflected the multihued glow of bar signs and ads. Humidity hung thick like a blanket, distant music nudging through the steady hum of traffic, even at this hour.
Up close, Jesse smelled faintly of bourbon and cedar. His shoulder brushed mine as we paused under the awning, people drifting past us in scattered groups, no one sparing us more than a fleeting glance. Somehow, it felt more private than a forest path back home.
“So.” He let the word hang between us like a full sentence.
“So,” I echoed, and for a beat, we simply inhaled the same damp air. His mouth parted for words he roped back in, the city tugging at our sleeves. Opposite ways?
I should end it here. Say thanks for the drink, flash a smile, and let the night dissolve into what-ifs because this wasn’t me, not really. Better bow out now, walk away before I tripped.
Instead, I stepped right into his space, cupped the back of his neck—and kissed him.
Tentative, testing. A question. Until his hand curved around my shoulder and he turned me against the wall, pushed closer and pressed in, mouth parting over mine. Fuck,yes—an answer. Heat snaked under my skin, concrete rough against my shoulders and the city noise blending with the rush in my ears. Smoke and sugar, a hint of floral bitterness. He made a small sound, not quite a word, and I pressed closer.
When we broke apart, I felt short of breath even as I filled my lungs with sticky air. Jesse searched my face, hesitating, clearlylooking for something only he knew. “Okay,” he said then, more of an exhalation. “Yes.”
Stupid triumph flooded me, like I’d won an argument I couldn’t define. As if all the guys who’d come up to me in the bar—they mattered nothing compared to this one yes.Take that, Travis.
“My hotel’s two blocks,” I managed.
“Lead the way.”
We set off, close but not touching, trading glances that felt brighter than any neon sign. He’d shoved his hands into his pockets, a hint of uncertainty in the set of his shoulders as he shot me another look. “So what is the rate? Three hundred, yes or no?”
As a surgical resident in New York? Some eighteen bucks an hour—and that was based on forty-hour weeks, which, hilarious. Not what Jesse expected to hear, though. And while I wouldn’t take his cash, well, this was… JesusChrist. It was different. Hot. Partly because I could tell this wasn’t his usual style.
He could have had just about anyone in that bar. Somehow, he’d picked me.
“How much’ve you got?” I asked.
“In cash?” He paused. “Maybe ninety or so. Is there an ATM on the way?”
Fuck, I really should tell him. Especially because I didn’t know how much I was supposed to charge—I’d improvised on the spot, just the first number that had come to mind. Based on Jesse’s tone, he didn’t find it outrageous.Quick, think.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “First-contact discount, remember? And if you want to extend, I take cards.”
Holy shit, really—“I take cards?” I needed to quit while I was ahead.
He slid me a look that was slightly amused, with a shade of surprise. “Pretty confident I’ll hit ‘subscribe,’ are you?”
The confession hovered on my tongue, ready to stumble out into the busy night. But my hotel was just up ahead, and really, I was already treading ethically questionable water—might as well commit. It was just a game anyway, something borrowed for the night. He’d be gone come morning.
So I shot him a smile and let my knuckles brush the side of his thigh. “I guess we’ll see.”
The hotel doors whooshed open in front of us. A lone desk clerk spared us barely a glance as we crossed the lobby and called an elevator, standing a carefully measured distance apart. Even so, I wasawareof him—just a little taller than me, sharp cheekbones and a strong mouth, how he projected confidence that seemed natural, nothing like the one that I’d donned like an ill-fitting cloak. He wasn’t cranked like some of the guys I knew back home, but it was clear he worked out. The way he’d grabbed me earlier, walked me back against the wall…Well. I’d never quite had that before. Turned out I liked it.
