Cute freelance writer with a love for all things Chicago, including the Bears? Yes, please.
This is fun, I thought.
Until the first message popped up.
Hey there, Gemma. How ‘bout them Bears?
I stared at the message, thumbs hovering over the keyboard on my phone.
What do I say back? Do I wait to respond? What if he thinks I’m stupid? What if he sees me in person and makes up some lame excuse to leave, and then I’m just sitting at the game alone?
Actually, that might not be so bad.
“Down To Fuck?”
I balked, blinking with my eyes still on the unanswered message on my phone before I peered up at the man the voice belonged to.
The bartender.
“Excuse me?” I asked, sure I didn’t hear him correctly. But he made no move to correct himself. Instead, he just stood there, staring at me, a little smirk on his full lips as he glanced down at my phone and back up at me.
“Down. To. Fuck,” he repeated. “That’s what DTF means.”
My mouth popped open, eyes skirting to where Belle had disappeared into the bathroom. “No… she wouldn’t.”
The bartender chuckled, fishing a beer out of the cooler behind him and sliding it over to a group of guys down to my left. “I mean, from the first words I heard her say when you two walked in here?” He smirked again. “I think she would.”
My cheeks flushed with heat, fingers flying over my phone as I quickly exited the message and tried to find my profile. “Oh, my God. How do I edit this thing? How do I delete that? Ah!” I threw my phone on the bar when another message came in. “Jesus Christ.”
The bartender laughed, picking up my phone from where I’d tossed it like a detonating bomb. He thumbed through a few screens, typed something, and handed it back to me.
“There. I edited it.” He leaned over the bar. “But, from the sounds of it, you should have left it. I mean, you are looking for someone who’s down to fuck, right?”
I closed the app, shoving my phone inside my purse with heat still creeping over my neck. “Nosy, much?”
“Hard not to overhear two gorgeous women talking about getting railed into next year by a hammer cock.”
I laughed at that, taking a sip of my vodka as my eyes met his. I finally got my wish, a chance to stare at him a little longer, and boy, was he fun to stare at.
His square jaw was lined with a faint shadow of stubble, his dark eyes hooded in a mixture of lust and playfulness. The way his jet-black hair sat in a styled wave reminded me of a Calvin Klein model, and I knew without a second thought that I wouldn’t mind seeing his tan skin sporting nothing but a pair of white briefs on a giant billboard — especially after that brief glimpse I got of his ass.
Ha! Take that, Belle. My libido is far from broken.
He was the definition of what Belle had said DTF stood for — Dark, Tall, and Fun.
“So, which one are you taking first?” he asked, pushing back from where he’d leaned over the bar. He nodded to a woman at the opposite end, letting her know he saw her request for a refill. And as he made her margarita, I pulled my phone back from my purse, sighing.
“Truthfully? I have no idea. I have two messages already, but I have no idea what to say to them.”
“Maybe you should start with hi.”
“You know what I mean,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. I opened up the app, staring at the first unanswered message again. “I haven’t talked to another man like this since…” My voice faded, heart slinking into my stomach with a mixture of guilt and loss. “Well, in a very long time.”
“You’re nervous,” he stated plainly, walking the new drink down to the woman at the end of the bar before returning to me. “Why don’t you ease into it, have a practice run before the real thing?”
I cocked a brow. “And how would I do that?”
He shrugged, those wicked lips cranking into a smirk yet again. “Take me.”
“You.” I deadpanned.
He nodded. “Yeah. Take me to the first game. I mean, look,” he gestured between us. “Obviously, we have chemistry. We could have a good time. I’ll buy the pizza and beer.”
“Sounds like you’re just looking for a free ticket to the first home game,” I said, leaning over the bar.
His eyes flashed down to my cleavage that I’d not-so-subtly pushed up with that movement, and when they flicked back to me, they were heated — darker, dusted with a lust-filled promise I somehow knew he could keep.
“Maybe.” He shrugged again. “Or maybe I want to be the first one to have the privilege of fulfilling your friend’s promise.”
“Her promise?” I asked, just as Belle slid into the bar seat next to me.
“What did I miss?”
The bartender tore his gaze from mine, smiling at Belle, instead. And that’s when I realized what her promise had been.
Getting me railed into next year.
I swallowed.
“Your friend here is nervous talking to guys she doesn’t know on the app,” the bartender said to Belle as I fought another blush. “So, she’s taking me to the first game, as a sort of practice run.”
“Oh!” Belle’s eyes lit up as she assessed me first, and then dragged her eyes over the bartender. A tinge of possessiveness touched my chest when she clearly liked what she saw. She chewed her thumbnail, nodding. “Oh, yes. I like this idea.”
“I didn’t agree yet,” I reminded him.
“Okay,” he challenged. “Then go ahead and respond to…” he peered over my phone screen. “Brad, there.”
He and Belle both watched me, Belle fighting a smile as one eyebrow rose on her perfectly symmetrical face. The bartender watched me with a satisfied smirk when my fingers didn’t move for the keys, and my jaw popped open, a laugh slipping through.
“Wow. You two just met and you’re already ganging up on me.”
“I like him,” Belle said easily. “And I like this plan.”
“You don’t even know him. Actually,” I said. “I don’t even know his name yet.”
“Zach Bowen,” he said, extending his hand for mine. “Pleasure to meet you.”
I let him take my hand in his, trying to ignore the warm, buzzing energy that transferred when our skin touched.
“She’s Gemma,” Belle answered for me, since apparently my sticky tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. “Gemma Mancini.”
“So, Gemma Mancini,” he said, his hand still wrapped around mine, eyes hooded and sure. “What do you say? Let me be your practice round.”
“Say yes, stupid,” Belle whispered.
I nudged her with my elbow.
Zach held my gaze confidently, his dark eyes watching me like I really had no other choice. And in that moment, I couldn’t think of a reason not to say yes. He seemed fun. He was hot.
And it would save me from this stupid app for at least one more week.
“Fine,” I conceded, and Zach’s smirk turned into a full-blown smile, one that had a slight dimple popping under that delicious stubble.
He reached for my phone, the screen still on the unanswered message from Brad. He clicked out of it, typing his phone number into a new text message, instead, and sending himself an emoji.