2. Olivia

The bar is slightly darker than everywhere else on the main level of the hotel. The lights are softer. So dim that the lit glass shelves lined with glass bottles behind the bar are really the main attraction. Although it’s a Friday night, it’s nearly midnight and most of the guests on this level are gathered around a stone fireplace, leaving the bar stools vacant and perfect for a private conversation. There’s only a single couple seated at the bar and then there’s me and my red dress.

My heart’s been racing ever since I left Autumn in our hotel room to come down here. I don’t remember being this eager before. I don’t remember missing him as much as I am right now. “What’ll it be?” the bartender asks me. Resting her palms on the bar, she leans forward to tell me when I purse my lips in indecision, “The cosmos here are pretty stellar.” Her perfectly pluck brow raises as if to ask, want one?

“I’ll have one of those then,” I answer with a smile that’s relatively genuine. All the nerves have me on edge. With a pat on the bar and a “coming right up,” the bartender turns her back to me to make a pretty concoction of liquor in a tall skinny glass. I can’t help it even though I’m irritated with my own impatience; I peek at the clock on the wall at the far end. It’s only been ten minutes of waiting. It’s still ten minutes too long for my taste.

With a tap on my phone, I bring up the text messages. Meet you at the bar. He texted it nearly fifteen minutes ago. Not even a half minute after Autumn telling me her brother was here, he texted me. And that’s all he said: Meet you at the bar.

He gave the command and I obliged.

I don’t remember being this needy ever before. But then again, I can’t remember ever waiting on him. This time feels different. And I don’t like it.

“Here you are,” the bartender’s voice is soft like the smile on her lips. Thanking her and then taking a sip, I pretend like I don’t want to text him. I’ve never been that girl. Clingy, and left wanting. I’ve been busy all my life and for the last few years, Nicholas has been right there every step of the way, never making me feel like things weren’t enough.

I just want him here. The second he’s here, I know everything will be alright and this weird anxiousness will be gone.

“Did you wear red for me?” The seductive cadence and deep voice behind me eases everything in me in an instant. From my head to my toes, including those butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I don’t have time to turn around, his strong arms wrap around my front, his shoulders cradling me as Nick kisses my neck. Right there, in that spot just beneath my ear that’s so sensitive. His rough stubble tickles my neck as he leaves me. It leaves me hot and bothered, but so relaxed. So very at home. That’s how it feels with him. He feels like home even though I never see him there. It’s always hotels. Still, that doesn’t change how I feel.

I reach up and behind me, my fingers trailing along his short hair until he brings his lips to meet mine. Pressing them lightly at first, until my lips mold to his. I part mine for him, and he nips slightly before deepening the kiss.

Even when he kisses me, the smile doesn’t leave. It never falters. The electric tingle races through me, from head to toe. Until he breaks the kisses, leaving me breathless and trailing the tip of his nose against mine.

“So did you?” he asks, taking the seat next to me and I’m in such a haze, I don’t remember why he’s waiting for an answer. His handsome smirk widens into a grin when he sees the effect he has on me. “Wear the red dress for me?”

“Oh,” the blush rises to my cheeks before I answer, “You know I did.” I haven’t an ounce of game in me. That’s what Autumn says and she’s right. I don’t care to either. I’m not here for games.

“I love it,” he comments and before I can let my smitten comeback get the better of me, the bartender’s back.

“Hello, there. What’ll it be?” she asks Nicholas and takes a glance at my glass, still nearly full as Nick looks at what’s on tap.

He’s going to get the lager. I know it. He knows it. But he takes his time, looking at each one before telling her, “A lager please.”

“Short or…”

“Tall,” he’s quick to answer.

“Tough day?” I tease him as he slips off his jacket and gets comfortable, adjusting on the stool.

“Long,” he answers and slips his hand over mine. The tips of his fingers toy with mine. “It’s got a good ending though.” He smirks, before lifting my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles one at a time.

“Hasn’t anyone told you, flattery will get you everywhere,” I joke and he laughs. A deep rough sound that I love.

“Maybe once or twice,” he answers and thanks the bartender as she places his beer in front of him.

He doesn’t waste any time, taking a long swig although his left hand stays over mine. He doesn’t look at me after and suddenly the air feels different again. That instinctive flip in my stomach goes off and I pull my hand away to readjust in my seat.

“You doing okay?” I ask him. My nerves get the better of me. I always trust my gut, I have all my life and it’s never steered me wrong. If things feel off, it’s because they are off.

He hesitates before letting out a small huff that’s a humorless laugh and running his hand up the back of his neck.

“I might be moving soon,” he tells me and wraps both of his hands around his beer.

Flip, skitter, halt. That’s what my heart does.

“Oh yeah,” I suck at keeping the nerves out of my voice. “Where to?” I ask him because it’s the polite thing to do. It’s the obvious question. Even though nerves dance along my heated skin.

“Out of state, the company is still nailing down the details,” he answers me and I watch the cords in his neck tighten as he swallows.

“Oh, when will you know?” Anticipation and slight relief are there, but still, this is a serious conversation. And we don’t have those. Not about us. If ever one of us needs something, we’re there for each other, but those moments are few and far between. I don’t recall a single conversation we’ve ever had about “us.” Although I’m completely aware, that’s exactly what this is.

“This week.”

“Really?” My brow shoots up my face and I can’t stop it. It gets a huff of laughter from Nick, who nods his head and takes another gulp of his beer. “Really,” he answers. “What do you think about that?”

“About you no longer being available for our get togethers on a whim?” I clarify, merely to take up time so I can find the right answer.

“Yeah,” his voice is low, coaxing. “Will you miss me?”

There’s a pitter patter in my chest that lights up every nerve ending in me. “Of course I will,” I answer honestly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “I don’t know for sure yet.” The thick air around us dissipates into a casualness that’s familiar.

“Company decision?” I question and he nods.

“Yeah, something like that,” he teases and absently runs his thumb along the dew of his beer glass.

“It’s weighing on you?” I question, noting how he seems lost in the conflict of whether or not to move.

“It’s a big decision,” he says but the way he says it sounds as if it’s not so unordinary.

“So if you moved… we wouldn’t be able to meet up in hotels anymore. And have our dirty little secret rendezvous.”

“Is that what this is? I’m your dirty little secret?” he toys with me and I gently smack his arm and then return to nursing my drink.

“Seriously though, is that why this feels different?” I almost ask, why it feels like all of this is a long goodbye, but I don’t.

“Things just… they might change a little and I wasn’t sure what you’d think about it,” he tells me and a nervousness settles in my gut. Change. Sometimes when I use that word, my clients get this wide-eyed, defensive look. I can feel it coming over me.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” I’m quick to shut it down. “All I want tonight is a kiss. Is that too much for a girl to ask?” I don’t want to talk about this right now. There are too many unknowns and what ifs and I am not ready to say goodbye when he’s just sat down. I know that’s where this is headed and I’m not ready. I’m not willing to agree to goodbye. Or to going back to being friends. That’s exactly what this feels like.

“Mmm,” Nick hums and then leans close to me, kissing me and silencing my inward complaints. The kiss isn’t deep, but it’s soothing and when he breaks it, I keep my eyes closed for just a moment longer, wanting to make sure I remember it forever.

I whisper with my eyes still closed, “God, I missed you.”