“Okay, Adam, spill it. Who was she?” Dylan presses, his keen eyes cutting through my façade with unsettling ease.
Honestly, I don’t know how he even does it. It’s unnerving.
I take a swig of my beer, the chill of the liquid in stark contrast to the warmth spreading across my face. “Who?”
I play dumb, my gaze flitting across Jaded Brews’ dimly lit interior. Couples are coupled up and those who are single cast hopeful glances at anyone who moves through the space solo.
Yet, my seemingly casual search is anything but. This weird desperation underlies each sweep of my eyes as I hunt for a flash of vibrant red in the crowd.
I shake my head. I shouldn’t be looking—shouldn’t even be hoping.
“Don’t bullshit me,” my best friend insists, leaning in with one of those tones that demands honesty.
I force a shrug, feigning indifference while my traitorous heart races in rhythm with the music thumping from the juke box. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, man.”
But who am I kidding? She’s all I’ve thought about for the past two freaking days.
The mysterious redhead who turned a simple one-night stand at Club Nocté's masquerade event into something ... inexplicable.
I went seeking a night of forgettable fun, only to be left haunted by the memory of her.
“Adam,” Dylan says, softer now, his spectacled gaze filled with concern as he snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Yep, focus. Right here—eyes on me. You’ve never been like this after a hook-up. What’s going on with you?”
I shake my head. “I wish I knew, man. I wish I knew.”
“Come on, you gotta give me something,” he sighs, tapping the bar top with the bottom of his pint glass.
My older brother, Brian—also known as tonight’s bartender and owner, flips him the bird in return. Then, he turns back to a sassy looking blond a the other end of the bar.
Dylan chuckles under his breath before turning back to me with an expectant gaze. When I don’t say anything, he snorts, “Just please tell me it wasn’t Jillian again.”
My beer nearly goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough, eyes watering. “What? No. God, no.”
Again, he levels me with that knowing, x-ray stare. “You sure?”
“No way, man,” I repeat, shaking my head. “That’s—no, we’re completely done. She made sure of that.”
He narrows his eyes momentarily but nods. “Good. She’s a bitch.” Then, he jabs me in the chest with his index finger. “And you deserve better.”
Fuck, he’s not wrong.
Sighing to myself, I scan the room again, my heart holding onto this foolish hope that I might catch a glimpse of those red waves.
But it's like searching for a needle in a haystack, and I know it.
The city is too big—and besides, our tryst happened in Superior, Wisconsin. Not Duluth, Minnesota.
While the distance isn’t profound—there’s only a short bridge ride separating us—the distinction could be enough to ensure I never see her again.
Especially since the majority of my life happens in Duluth. It’s part of the reason I went for it—that night with a stranger to get Jillian fully, and completely off my damn mind.
Well, it worked.
My stupid brain wanders back to Friday night at Nocté, and I’m flooded with memories of my mystery woman. She was different—adventurous in a way that I’ve never encountered before.
And sexy as hell …
I’ve been with plenty of women, but for the most part, they’ve all been the same. Attractive, confident, and demanding.
Despite their preening and high maintenance—of course, I need to get my nails done again—bullshit, I never really gave much thought to the fact that there were other types of women out there.
Women like her …
She was so different from the women I’ve been choosing for myself. Shorter, definitely curvier …
I guess that was the point, too.
But the way she looked at me … Her green eyes were filled with mischief and promise, and it made something inside me ignite.
I became a different person with her.
Someone confident, vulnerable, but ready. So ready.
She was flirty, provocative, and she knew exactly what she wanted.
My neck heats as I think about all the positions—the commands she’d let slip past those gorgeous lips.
Again, I shift in my seat, but this time, to give my crotch more room.
And she wasn’t afraid to let me explore, either. We pushed each other's boundaries, and it was … exhilarating.
I’ve never been with someone who was so uninhibited.
But it wasn’t even that—it was the way she gave me everything. It was almost as if she knew the perfect places to touch, to kiss, to flick that tongue of hers … The way to edge me out and leave me desperately wanting more.
My pleasure was hers and vice versa.
Hands down, it was the hottest night of my life.
Now, all I can think about is whether or not I should go back to Nocté. Not for another fleeting one-night stand, but to find her. To get her name or her number—something, anything, more concrete than just a memory.
It makes me wonder if this is why the rules for Nocté’s Upper Tier exist. Someone, somewhere, knows that for people like us—like me—it’s hard to detangle the heart from physical pleasure. But sometimes, one night is all you need.
One night that will never be more.
I take another sip of my beer, trying to drown out the thoughts. But they’re persistent, nagging at the back of my mind.
I want to see her again, rules be damned.
Dylan nudges me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “This isn’t you, bro. You’ve been out of it all night and I need a wingman—or hell, a conversation will do at this point.”
I force a smile, not wanting to dive into it right now. “Yeah, just ... thinking.”
He raises a quizzical eyebrow. “About her?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Dylan shakes his head, chuckling. “Shit, she really did a number on you, huh?”
I laugh, but it’s forced. “You have no idea.”
Dylan takes one look at my face and shakes his head, pushing his thick-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Alright, we need a change of subject. You’re getting that faraway, sappy look again.”
I roll my eyes, despite being grateful for the distraction. “I don’t have a ‘sappy look.’”
“Yes, you fuckin’ do,” he counters, a grin playing on his lips. “It’s the same one you had when you were crushing on Tamara back in high school. Remember? It was when you went through your vegan phase and you found out she was one, too.”
I burst out laughing at the memory, shaking my head. “Okay, okay, maybe you have a point.”
Dylan’s grin widens, and he leans back on his bar stool, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So, speaking of vegan disasters, do you remember Melissa?”
“The yoga instructor who tried to cleanse your aura with a bundle of sage?” I snicker into my beer bottle.
“That’s the one!” he exclaims, his dark eyes lighting up. “Well, she came into the coffee shop yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah?” I quirk an eyebrow, my lips sliding into a smirk.
He nods. “She brought her pet ferret. On a leash.”
I stare at him. “She has a pet ferret? And she brought it into the coffee shop?”
Dylan nods, his curly hair bouncing with the movement. “Yup. And you know what she named it?”
I shake my head, not sure I want to know.
“Chakra,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“Of course she did,” I say between laughs. “Only you, Dylan. Only you could attract someone like that.”
He grins, shrugging nonchalantly. “What can I say? I’m a magnet for the wild ones.”
I take another sip of my beer, the laughter fading as I look at my best friend. “Hey, Dyl … You ever think about settling down? You know, finding someone ... normal?”
Dylan raises an eyebrow, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Normal’s overrated. But yeah, I think about it sometimes. Not even I can have epic, mind-melding hook-ups every day.”
“Have you ever?” I roll my eyes, but I can feel the smirk tugging at my lips.
He nods vigorously. “Oh, yeah. All the time.”
“Shut up,” I fire back, shaking my head.
He chuckles, raising the new beer Brian slid across the bar to him in a toast. “To the wild ones and the sappy looks they give us.”
I can’t help but laugh, clinking my bottle against his glass. “To the wild ones.”
As we drink, the weight on my chest lightens, and the image of the redhead fades to the back of my mind.
For now, at least.
I take out my phone, quickly glancing at my schedule for tomorrow.
“Really? Checking your phone now? I’m hurt,” Dylan teases, pretending to stab himself through the heart.
I snicker under my breath, locking the phone and putting it back in my pocket. “Just checking to see what time I need to head into work.”
Dylan snickers. “You’ve been here drinking with me for the past couple of hours and you just think to check that now?”
I shrug. “Didn’t occur until just now. Normally, my times are pretty consistent, but I start training a new client tomorrow. My schedule is already so packed—and now they add this. I don’t know why they didn’t give them to Jillian.”
Dylan laughs, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “Yes, it’s truly shocking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Seriously, dude?” He makes a pointed WTF face.
I stare at him.
He sighs heavily. “It’s because you’re the big-deal Instagram star. People actually want to train with you, not whore Barbie.”
I huff a laugh at the colorful nickname for my ex, not really in the mood to dive into the intricacies of my social media status. “Yeah, yeah. In reality, it just means I have to wake up an hour earlier.”
Dylan gives me a slap on the back, smirking. “Come on, man. Who knows? Maybe this new client will be a breath of fresh air. Something to shake up your routine. You need that right now.”
I raise an eyebrow, the idea intriguing, yet unlikely. “Maybe. But I’m not holding my breath.”
I glance at my phone one more time, the name of the new client is just another line in a sea of appointments. Unremarkable and unknown.
And yet, as I slip the device back into my pocket, there’s a strange flutter in my stomach—an inexplicable sense of anticipation that I can't quite shake off.
Probably the beer and Dylan’s prediction, come to think of it.
I need to forget that night and focus on the here and now.
“Let’s hit the road,” I say, pushing back from the bar. “We’ve both got early mornings.”
Dylan groans. “Don’t remind me.”
I slap him on the back. “You’re the one who wanted to run a coffee shop, man. You have no one to blame but yourself.”
He nods. “Don’t I know it.”
We throw down our cash to cover the tab and tip and I wave at Brian. He’s busy talking to another patron, but he tips his chin in goodbye. Then, Dylan and I head out into the cool night air.
I can’t shake this strange feeling. Like I’m on the cusp of finally breaking free from Jillian’s shadow.
I throw a casual arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “To new beginnings, eh?”
He chuckles, wrapping his arm around my waist. “And the mysterious women who make them happen.”