He lifts a single eyebrow and one shoulder. “My guess, you’re either in a long-term relationship or recently broken up. Engaged?”

I scoff. “If you cover all bases, you can’t be wrong, can you?”

He leans farther on his elbow, opening his chest toward me again as his gaze becomes appraising. “Recent breakup?”

“No.” I avoid his stare, my attention drawn to his rounded lips and the shallow creases created on both ends when he smiles. They remind me of parentheses, pointing out that his smile is maybe a best-kept secret but not the most obvious. This foreign thought has me reaching for my beer to take another drink. The alcohol tickles my nose and buys me a few seconds to focus on something aside from this stranger in front of me and the brewing onslaught of feelings that make absolutely no sense. “Are you trying to hit on me?” I blurt the question.

Those parentheses around his mouth stamp deeper as his smile grows, and his bright-blue eyes flash with amusement, or is that approval? “I’m Levi,” he says.

“Brooke,” I tell him almost reluctantly. My eyes narrow again, looking more closely at him when he again avoids another question.

“Are you from Chicago, Brooke?” He has to yell as a new song comes on with a techno beat that has the crowds cheering. Something inside of me likes that he tacked my name onto the end of his sentence.

I shake my head. “I’m from—”

He leans closer, dipping his face close to mine. His ear is facing me, removing the intimacy of how near he is, but the scent of his cologne has me stumbling over my thoughts, forgetting what I was about to tell him. In a building filled with perfumes, sweat, and alcohol, he smells clean, like stepping outside after a rainstorm during the summer when the sun makes everything smell sweeter—better.

“What were you saying?” he asks.

“I’m from Indianapolis,” I tell him.

He shifts, facing me with those vibrant blue eyes. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’re an imposter?”

I laugh. It feels like a reflex, instant and unforgiving, and his eyes somehow shine brighter. “I take it you’re from Indiana?”

“Born and raised.” He raises his chin higher.

“And clearly proud of it.”

He flashes a smile. “What gave it away?”

“It was just a wild guess. You were so subtle about it.”

His laughter brings another wave of his cologne to wash over me. “I’m glad you think so. My ex always told me I was arrogant and over the top about things.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“Me either!” he cries, feigning surprise.

“There’s something to be said for people who know what they like and like what they know.”

He raises his drink. “I’ll drink to that. People who don’t know what they want bug the hell out of me. For example, when someone tells me they like both the Cubbies and the Sox, I can’t even continue a conversation with them.”

“Are you telling me I have to decide or I’ll need to leave?”

His chin jolts forward, and his eyes round. “Stop.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I know nothing about baseball.”

“How is that even possible? What do they teach you over there in Indie?”

“That our Hoosiers wipe the floor with your Fighting Illini.”

He clasps his chest with both hands, dropping his chin back dramatically. “Way to hit a man when he’s down.”

“Sore spot?” I tease.

“Just lie to me and tell me you’re a Cubbies fan.”

“You’re convincing me to be a White Sox fan.”

He smiles triumphantly. “You really are stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Hey! No Jedi mind tricks! I changed my mind—Cubbies fan.”

His smile widens, confusing me further.

“You’re not going to tell me which team you like, are you?”

“You may now call me the Jedi Master.” He grins.

“I really can’t understand how anyone could’ve ever mistaken you for being cocky.”

Laughter sparks in his gaze, and then the deep timbre of his amusement pulls my lips into a matching smile. “So, you’re from Indiana, you don’t like baseball … but know you like the Hoosiers more than the Fighters, and you drink your beer very slowly. Tell me what you like to do in your free time.”

I shrug. “I’m sort of in the process of reinventing myself,” I say, sharing my newly discovered epiphany that this evening has reinforced.

Levi raises his brows. “I’m intrigued. Did you join a roller derby team? Underground fighting?” He snaps his fingers. “Are you a member of one of those flash dance mobs?”

I slap a palm to my face. “You’re making me regret being honest with you.” I take a deep swallow of my beer.

Levi shakes his head, placing a hand on my arm. His skin burns against mine as though branding me. I glance down, tracing numerous scars that mark the back of his fingers. “Tell me.”

“You’re expecting something that will make me sound super unique to an impressive degree. Lower your expectations!” I warn him with a grin.

“As long as you don’t tell me your hobby is sleeping, you’ve got this nailed.”

My cheeks ache from the smile that’s had my lips stretched since we began talking, and as much as I will the muscles to relax, they maintain the same happy expression. “I’m starting a blog.” The words tumble from my lips before I realize I’ve been considering it since speaking to that woman going rock climbing the day I moved out of my shared apartment with Gabe.

He tilts his chin, eyeing me closely. “Seriously?”

Nerves have me gripping my beer tighter, and I nod.

“Why would I laugh at that? That’s awesome. What are you blogging about?”

“Trying new things. New experiences.”

“Really?” he exclaims, standing taller, as though he actually finds the idea intriguing.

“Yes … but I’ll continue to maintain my street credit by binge-watching every episode of The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones—of course.”

“Of course.” He chuckles again, stepping closer as a couple approaches the bar on the other side of him.

“What about you? What are your hobbies?”

“Food.”

“Food? Like eating? Cooking?”

“Both.” He leans his elbows on the bar again, extending his forearm toward me. The black cotton of his shirt slides up on his wrist, revealing the dark stain of tattoos that distract me as I work to decipher them as he continues. “I just love food, I guess. I like creating it, tasting it, experimenting with new techniques and flavors.” He lifts his shoulders with a casual shrug. “I understand food better than people.”

“Is that where these came from?” I trace a deep scar on his thumb. “Cooking?”

He nods. “I’ve been known to be a bit competitive.”

“Was that why you came over, or were you really trying to warn me from the kid with the fake ID?”

“Both.”

“And you did this thinking I was engaged?”

“But hoping you weren’t.”

I try to hide my smile with another drink. It feels strangely good to have him admit this—and even better to know he noticed me and had payed enough attention that he knew another might be interested.

“You’re a little intimidating though,” he says.

“Intimidating? How am I intimidating?”

“You’re…” He runs a hand in front of his face.

“What does that mean?” Nervous laughter spills from my lips as I straighten, uncertain if I’m offended or curious.

“You’re beautiful,” Levi says, keeping my stare when I attempt to glance away. “And you haven’t looked at a single guy since you’ve been here, not even when they danced with you.”

“Should I be creeped out or flattered that you’ve been watching me that long?”

He chuckles. “I work here. It’s my job to pay attention to people.”

“You work here?” I glance around. “What do you do?”

“This and that.”

“If my nickname was ‘honesty,’ yours would be ‘vague.’”

He laughs. “I’m in management. But you should probably pay a little more attention to those who are watching you. If I hadn’t been, you’d still be trying to explain to that kid what you were trying to insinuate.”

“I recently got out of a long-term relationship,” I admit. “I’m sort of learning how to be single again. Flirting, blatant or otherwise, is a bit foreign to me.”

“I have a feeling you not noticing has a little to do with something more than just you getting out of a long-term relationship.”

I lift a shoulder. “Maybe it’s because I’m intimidating?” I tease.

His smile is polite but unamused. “Is the single thing a good thing?”

I nod. “I didn’t think it was initially. I mean…” I shake my head. “I guess you could say it’s been a little messy. But it will be. I’ve just been in relationships for so long I don’t know how to be single. That’s what’s inspired this blog.”

“So, what are you going to tackle first as a single woman?”

“Decide if I’m a Cubbies or White Sox fan,” I tell Levi, bumping him gently with my elbow.

He stares at me; it’s so intense his gaze feels almost heavy. Then he shifts to face the bar and raises a finger in the air. “Hey, Tony,” he calls.

The bartender appears with a wide smile. “Yeah, boss?”

“Do you have a pen back there?”

The bartender fishes in his pocket and pulls three out, which he fans out in offer. Levi selects one and grabs a drink napkin, jotting down a number. “It’s your lucky day. I happen to know someone who has season passes for one of the teams.”

“Are you by chance that person?”

“Maybe…” A slow, lazy grin stamps those faint parentheses back into his cheeks.

“You know, your secret will be revealed, and I’ll know which team you are rooting for.”

“I said maybe. That doesn’t mean they’re mine.”

I take the napkin before this alien sense of confidence wears off and fold it before placing it in my purse. Maybe it’s the dark lights, maybe it’s the endorphins from dancing, or maybe being single won’t be such a bad thing.