The girls raise their glasses, and we do a little glass-clinking mingle. Kayla takes a sip of hers and places it back on the table, “Catch you later; we’re on soon.”
“Go kick some ass, Drummergirl,” Panda sends Kayla off on her merry way while Anna and I wiggle our fingers in goodbye.
“Scoot over,” I tell my sister, shoving her a little with my butt. “I’m going to the toilet.”
Anna raises her eyebrow with the widest of smiles. “Going to the toilet we call it these days. Mmhmm.” Then, “Tell Ricky I said hi,” she whispers next to my ear on her way out of the booth, allowing my escape route. I trap a smile with my teeth instead of responding. The little chicken knows me too well.
I walk down the narrow, dimmed hall of the bar and pause when I see him. And by pause, I mean my steps and that breath that gets trapped in me. There he stands, leaning on the wall, black tee, black jeans, a silver plain chain accentuating his masculine, inked neck. There he is, my nightly fantasies in the flesh.
Ricky is absorbed in thought, scrolling through his phone as I near him. Sensing my presence, he lifts his eyes. His lips tip at the side at the sight of me, causing my heart to skip a beat . . . or two. He has this look about him, one that makes you nearly catch on fire. This guy is a montage of bad boy mannerism. From the way he’s running his tattooed fingers through his marvelously disheveled dark strands and how he licks his lips before saying something in a voice so graveled and deep you feel like it’s caressing you along the length of your skin to how economic his smiles are, but when you do get a chance to witness one . . . so help you God.
He pushes himself off the wall and takes a step forward. “Hey,” he says while placing a lingered kiss somewhere between my lips and my cheek. A kiss that seems innocent but is definitely not! It’s a slightly opened mouth kiss, and somewhat closer to the edge of my lips. It lingers more than a friendly kiss calls for.
“Felt lonely in New York without you,” he says, not leaving my personal space, his eyes ever so slowly trailing across my face. The thing about Ricky, I don’t just look at him with my eyes or hear him with my ears; my entire body responds to him.
I take a protective step back. He’s referring to a trip he took to New York where I was supposed to be at the same time – on business. I can’t say that I wasn’t relieved when my business trip was canceled. Maybe not spending a few nights with Ricky somewhere far from home wasn’t a bad thing. I’m attracted to him like I’ve never been to anyone before. He’s charming and smart and ridiculously attractive, and apart from that, he’s everything I’m not looking for in a guy. With him, I don’t know that I’ll have control over the relationship like I usually have. I lead the game, and the men follow. I know he won’t. The guy breathes dominance. And I have a hunch he’ll never go along with my current dating style. Not to mention we could not be more different even if we tried.
I feel like Ricky is starting to figure out adulthood while I’m already deep in. We’re in two very different places, and somehow, I don’t think that our trajectories will ever meet. It’s not even about parallel paths; it’s two divergent roads. While I’m on the highway to settling down and climbing the corporate ladder, Ricky opts for the road less traveled.
“Well, my trip canceled,” I say.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t play on home territory.” He eyes me, and I feel like those hypnotized characters in cartoons, like his eyes swirl and slowly bewitch me. Ricky and all his woman voodoo magic – not an act. He doesn’t force it, it’s just who he is. That’s how he roams the world, impossibly dangerously and sinfully attractive, unintentionally collecting a sizeable followership.
I squint my eyes at him, forcing myself to avoid the voodoo eyes and no less voodoo lips. “Some of us don’t have time to play,” I say and pat his chest in dismissal.
He grabs my hand and holds it over his chest. Very much defined peck, I notice. With my hand on his steadily beating heart and his large, inked hand covering it, I feel it all the way deep in my stomach.
“Let’s have a drink after our session.”
When I stare at him, contemplating my reply, he adds, “Last time didn’t cut it, Vic, I need more.”
Good that he’s somehow holding me because I think my knees are getting weaker. Last time started with an evening walk that ended in a cozy little café somewhere in the very early hours of the morning. We talked for hours, and our immediate connection and the platonic intimacy we shared left me too unsettled for my own good. I just couldn’t get him out of my thoughts after last time.
“Ricky,” his name comes out a little hoarse. “I don’t think that I will. I don’t think that it’s a good id—”
“Yo, Rick, we’re on. We’re opening with The Gaslight Anthem cover, right?” Kevin, Ricky’s band member, interrupts the moment.
With my hand still under his, attention fully on me, he says, “I’m coming.”
I’m coming. Oh boy, is it hot in here or what? When I step away, pulling out my seized hand, he quickly captures it back.
“One drink, Vic.” He squeezes my hand and follows his band member’s steps. Leaving me yet again very much unsettled.
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Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read By Mistake.
So, I have a request. It would be great, REALLY GREAT, actually, it would be more than fantastic, if you would leave a review on Goodreads, your favorite ebook retailer, or anywhere else you wish. ;-)
Also, I more than love hearing from my readers. Honestly, it’s the best part of the whole writing process. So, send me an email at: [email protected] or chat with me on Facebook.
Thank you for allowing me to share my stories with you, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next release.
Sigal
THANK YOU to every single person out there who read my latest creation! Writing By Mist@ke was such a fun ride. After having these characters banter inside my head for days on end, even though I was working on another story, I decided to let them run free. Halfway through the writing, I knew I wanted to continue “hanging out” with the rest of the gang. What can I say, those chickens really got under my skin. So, if you enjoyed By Mist@ke, books 2&3 (Vicky’s and Kayla’s) are in the making.
Now, to two incredible women who made writing this book as fun; two fabulous ladies who read, criticized, and loved the story together with me. Kiki, and Camilla (also known as Young Anna) — thank you so much, my chickens, for the laughs, coffee/tea-ing, and brainstorming.
Ravit, I’m a little jealous.
Cap, Sim, Sylv, and my Barchik, thanks for being my eternal pep squad even when I disappear inside my writing cave for days and ignore your calls.
Tommy for almost containing the cringe when I read bits and pieces to you.
Nicole Hornbaker, I can’t imagine ever publishing a book without you.
BLOGGERS, truly incredible bloggers. I’m forever grateful and humbled by your continuous support. Bianca, Vicky, Dali, Sharon, and Rachel, SueBee, ladies, I feel absolutely fortunate to have you on my side.