I know who the text is from before I look at it. My stomach already fluttering, my hands sweaty by the time I click the icon to open it.
Leo: My flight gets in at noon tomorrow. You’ll be there to pick me up, right?
Leo Griffen, the one that got away. Wait, does that apply if he never knew I was in love with him? Does it count if he wasn’t the only one I was in love with?
I look over at Hudson again, and as if he can feel my eyes on him, he looks away from his potential conquest, his gaze boring into me for a few seconds as a million unspoken things bridge the distance between us and settle heavy over my heart.
Tearing my attention away from him, I look back down at my phone to type a reply message.
Bishop: You know I will. Can’t wait to see you!
Leo: Can’t wait to see you either, B!! Does You Know Who know I’m coming?
Bishop: Voldemort? I doubt it, unless your scar is hurting?
Leo: Ha. Ha. You know who I’m talking about
Bishop: I haven’t told him, so unless you have, that would be a no
Leo: You know I haven’t talked to him in over a decade
Bishop: Well, the two of you are going to have to get over whatever your problem is, because if you’re living in the same city, you’re bound to run into each other
Leo: It’s a big city
I sigh and close out of the conversation without responding. I’m not in the mood to have this same argument again. There was a time when Leo and Hudson were inseparable. The three of us were best friends, and I was jealous of how close they were. But now...now, it would take a miracle to get the two of them into the same room together, and neither of them will even tell me why. A familiar twinge twists in my heart, and I shove my phone back into my pocket.
“Why the long face, gorgeous?” the bartender asks. My eyes dart to the name tag pinned to the front of his too tight t-shirt. Riot— I’m not sure if it’s his birth name or if it’s a moniker he’s chosen, but it fits him either way. His hair is long on top, short on the sides, and colored a shade of lilac that seems to soften him. There’s a hoop through the left side of his bottom lip, another through his eyebrow, and colorful tattoo sleeves decorating both of his arms. He’s different from my usual type— both Hudson and Leo are more clean cut. So clean cut in fact that they could both be on the cover of Hot As Fuck Businessman Weekly. There’s something about the wildness of Riot that drew me in the first time I saw him, when he started working at Twisted Cherry six months ago.
I’ve been appreciating his good looks from afar for a while, but I’ve never talked to him. I was thinking about leaving after Hudson decided to start pulling his usual bullshit, flirting with me and then pushing me away. We came out tonight to celebrate our friends Pax and Elijah deciding to settle down and move in together. I’m happy for them; I never thought anyone would get Pax to settle down, let alone cohabitate, and I didn’t really want to leave their little celebration, but I wasn’t sure I could take another night of watching Hudson go home with someone else.
Then Riot smiled at me over the bar, and I figured I could probably stand to stay a little longer.
“Life is complicated,” I answer with another sigh.
“You know there’s a cure for that, right?” he says, putting his elbows on the bar and leaning in conspiratorially, a strand of his purple hair flopping over his forehead, humor dancing behind his eyes.
“Let me guess, more booze?”
He shakes his head slowly and then looks from side to side as if he’s afraid someone will overhear as he reveals government secrets.
“Orgasms,” he whispers, and I snort my beer into my nose in surprise, coughing and sputtering as the liquid stings my nasal passage.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Nothing uncomplicates life like coming back to my place after my shift and letting me make you come over and over until the sun comes up.”
Heat rushes through me, settling between my legs as my heart beats faster, and a slow smile spreads over my lips. Excitement sparks along my skin even as a small voice in the back of my mind tells me this might not be the best idea. I deserve a night of fun, don’t I? I deserve to have the attention of a sexy man for one night, even if I don’t understand why someone as appealing at Riot would give me a second glance.
“Sounds like exactly what the doctor ordered,” I agree. “When does your shift end?”
Riot chuckles, the deep rich sound reaching inside me and stoking the flame that’s already burning there.
*****
It turns out Riot’s closing down the bar tonight, but I have nowhere else to be, so I’m happy to wait. I switch from beer to soda once I decide to go home with him, because I hate being fuzzy during a hookup. I don’t do this often, with anyone but Hudson, and I’d rather remember every second of it in the morning.
He flirts in between helping customers, and by the time he flips the sign from open to closed, I’m more than ready to get out of here and find out if he’s all talk or if he plans to deliver on all of his promises.
“Should I follow you in my car?” I ask as we step outside, into the dim light of the single streetlamp lighting this corner of the street.
“I live at the building at the end of the block,” he says, pointing down the road. “It’s a two minute walk, if you’re cool with it.”
“That works,” I agree.
The night is warm and quiet, the only sound distant traffic and our shoes on the pavement as we walk.
My heart is in my throat, and my stomach knots the closer we get to his building. I’m not usually one for random hookups. Not that it’s never happened, but usually I know the guy more than a few hours of flirting. And then, of course, there’s my semi-monthly sex with Hudson that I always promise myself will never happen again, until the next time he calls me in the middle of the night or shows up at my apartment unannounced, and I’m too weak to resist. Again. Over and over. Always.
“Having second thoughts?” Riot asks when we reach the outside door of his building.
“What? No, why?”
“You got quiet; I thought you might be rethinking,” he says.
I step closer, my nose filling with the scent of sweat and alcohol that’s clinging to him. Under normal circumstances, it might not be an appealing smell, but for some reason, it works on Riot. The hopeful smile on his lips doesn’t hurt either.
“I was thinking, but I’m pretty sure that’s why I’m here. Didn’t you promise to cure me of that? At least for a little while?”
“I promised to make life less complicated for a few hours,” he corrects.
“And it’s my thoughts that are making life complicated,” I conclude. “So, take me upstairs and make me stop thinking them.”
“You’ve got it,” he agrees, finally pushing his key into the lock and opening the door.
He leads me to the second floor and into his small apartment.
“You probably won’t believe me when I say this, but I never pick up guys at the bar.”
I snort a laugh as I toe off my shoes. He’s right, I don’t believe that for a second, but it’s nice to feel special, if only for a few minutes. So, I decide to pretend it’s true. It’s a nice fantasy, being so sexy and irresistible that a man like Riot would discard his usual standards and bring me home because he can’t stand the thought of passing up a chance to get his hands on me. A shiver runs through me at the thought.