I’m washing my hands when the door swings open and a tipsy Kat and Stacey walk in. I quickly cover up my surprise with a smile. “Going to the bathroom?” I ask casually, choosing not to ask them directly if they came in here to check up on me.

They flank me from either side, pretending to use the other free basins in the bathroom. “We just wanted to freshen up before we go to the bar,” Stacey says while taking her lipstick out of her clutch. She eyes me through the mirror, as she meticulously applies each pale pink layer.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m going to come to the bar.” I break eye contact and move over to dry my hands. “Dinner was beautiful, though. Thanks for letting me crash.”

“You didn’t crash,” Kat corrects me. “You were invited.”

I smile in response, because I really don’t want to have whatever conversation this is. I don’t know these women, and while they’re lovely, Hendrix and I aren’t even a thing, let alone anybody else’s business.

Facing the mirror again, I look at both of them. “I appreciate whatever this is, but I really just want to go home.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Stacey blurts out.

“I don’t want to be rude, because you guys have been nothing but nice to me, but I don’t want to have this conversation with anyone else but Drix. And even that might be a bit of a stretch considering how I’m feeling right now.”

“I know the alcohol is going to my head, but I’m not drunk enough to not notice he likes you. An—”

“Stacey, let’s give her a moment, and wait for her outside,” Kat warns.

“Fine, but can you just promise to hear him out.”

“Sure.”

They walk out, and as usual, whenever I’m with or think about Hendrix, I’m left feeling like another piece of the puzzle is missing. He doesn’t give much away, and it seems like everything, and anything can change for him in a split second.

If I just go home, I can think about whether this is really worth anything. Leaving dinner last week, I was reminded again that Sasha is a big part of his life, if nothing more than because she’s Dakota’s mother. It seems too soon to ask if I’m ready for that, yet I can’t work out why I want more from him. My body might want me to be underneath his a time or two, but something in my gut has me worried all decisions up to this point are fuelled by Sasha. As if he feels compelled to prove she doesn’t have a hold on him.

I may be sporadic and carefree, but I’m not stupid, and If I can avoid getting hurt, I want to try that option first.

When we text, I’m content with just sex, but talking about work last week, and sitting with his friends now, I’m getting a glimpse into his world, away from Jagger and Emerson. But even if it fills like something more, I won’t be someone’s fill-in girl.

I check my reflection one more time before facing the firing squad outside. Stacey is right. I just need to talk to him. He needs to be honest, and tell me what it is he wants. If he wanted sex, he would’ve already gotten it, but there’s something between us. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there, desperate to take hold and flourish, and I can’t walk away from that. Even if I know he’s going to break my heart in the process.

Relief hits me when I walk out, and nobody is waiting for me. Straightening my back, I wear my usual confidence and meet them all back at the table. Except only Hendrix is there. With his head in his hands, it’s hard not to feel for the grown man who looks so helpless, sitting alone in a full restaurant.

“Drix.” He looks up at me, and I can’t read him at all. I want to grab his hand, take him next door and load him with some alcohol so he can relax, but I know better. I can’t excuse his behaviour, because my empathy for him far outweighs my hurt feelings. “You okay if I go home?”

He stands and walks around the table. The distance between us is reserved, unsure if he’s welcome any closer. “Can I take you?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. We can just call it a night, forget this ever happened and think long and hard about whether we should repeat it.”

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he asks, clearly taken aback.

“Drix. I like you. I don’t know what that means yet, but I’m okay if you don’t reciprocate those feelings.”

“I didn’t say that,” he argues defensively.

“Just let me finish. Maybe you’re just not ready because of whatever it is you’ve got hidden in your past.” I hold my posture, determined to get the words out. “But you’re going to need to find someone else to be your practice girlfriend.”

“Practice girlfriend?”

“I don’t want to get shut down every time your thoughts go back to her.”

He jerks his head back, my admission shocking him. “This isn’t about her.”

“Well.” I raise my eyebrow sceptically. “When you’re ready, you can tell me what it’s about?”

He holds his hand out as an invitation. “Come with me next door.”

Hesitantly I take him up on the offer and slip my hand in his. “Stacey is really invested,” I say as we get closer to the bar. “You do know I can’t be friends with her though, right?”

“What? Why?”

“Her and Jagger had a thing.”

He looks at me, puzzled. “You know about that?”

“Of course.”

“I’d hardly call it a thing, and it was before he met Emerson, anyway.” It’s cute how he’s defending Jagger, and if it were anybody else but my best friend I would agree completely with his train of thought.

“I know, but Emerson isn’t a fan. And if she isn’t a fan—”

“Then you’re not either,” he finishes for me. He gives me his sweetest smile. “You think you can make an exception for me tonight?”

“Considering she checked on me in the bathroom, I think I can let it slide for now. “

We reach the door, and he looks at me just before he pulls it open. Vulnerable, his eyes slowly let their guard down. “Thank you for staying.”

“Don’t make me regret it, okay?”

Excited when we walked in hand in hand, his friends made sure to never leave us alone, chatting and offering us drinks every chance they get; making it impossible for Drix and I to discuss anything from earlier.

If they weren’t so nice, I’d be irritated, but only a bitch would be mad at people trying to make her feel welcome and comfortable.

Not wanting to drink too much, just in case we do end up speaking later, I take small sips of wine, in between huge glasses of water. Hendrix sits close, closer than in the restaurant, and close enough to touch me. Whether it’s his arm around my shoulders, or his hand grazing my thigh, a weight has been lifted, and the difference is unmissable.

I’m not one for games. It requires energy I don’t have, so instead of keeping him at a distance, I revel in the simplicity of his company. Every touch is like a white flag, and every time I willingly surrender.

Conversation is light, everyone glad to unwind, and escape the weekly grind. I learn Stacey and Chris got together a little after Jagger and Emerson, and they’ll be moving in together soon. I find out Evan is going to propose to Kat, he’s just waiting for the right moment. And my favourite part is hearing them talk about Hendrix. Whether they’re all giving each other shit, or they’re telling me how great he is, I realise I’m in the presence of someone who might just be worth the heartache.

As the night progresses, the lights in the bar get darker, and the music gets louder. Changing from the after-dinner crowd to the all-nighter crowd, I decide I’m ready to go home. Not wanting to interrupt Hendrix’s conversation with Chris and Evan, I dig my phone out of my bag and text him.

Me: You ready to drive me home?

From the corner of my eye, I wait for him to see the text. He doesn’t even look up at me, while he types back, and the charade makes me giddy.

Hendrix: I’ve been ready since you strutted in with that side split showing off your gorgeous legs.

I can’t help but smile, remembering exactly how I felt as I walked toward the table with his gaze penetrating through me.

Me: Come on, Sexy. Let’s go before I change my mind.

“You little minx.” Stacey flicks my exposed knee, immediately getting my attention. “Were you just sexting, Drix?”

Grinning like a fool, I shake my head. “No, I just asked if he was ready to go.”

“To go, and have sex, you mean.”

“Who’s having sex?” He towers over us, his eyes dancing with desire as he directs the question to me.

“Not us,” I say, shocking only Kat and Stacey.

Drix, just laughs, and tips his head toward the exit. “Ready?”

I do the rounds, with Hendrix’s hand on the small of my back. Together we say goodbye and they all tell me how happy they are Drix and I came out, and how they hope we’ll all do it again some time. It doesn't go unnoticed that it seems to be the first time in a long time Drix has been out with his work friends, or how happy it's made them. I add it to my list of things we can talk about.

Once and for all, I’m decidedly determined to solve the mystery that is Hendrix Michaels.

We get to the car and I groan at the thought of having to lift myself up to get in. “Seriously, Drix. If I'm going to ever dress up to go somewhere with you again, we're taking my car.”

He comes up beside me and opens the door. Pressing himself up behind me, one hand latches onto my waist, the other holds my hand. Allowing him to help me with my balance, smoothly I raise one leg and lift myself up. His hand glides down the curve of my hip, resting right under my arse as he pushes me the rest of the way.

Casually I settle in the seat, as he watches me with a smug look across his face. “If we take your car, then I can't do that.” He winks. “And I really like doing that.”

He closes the door, and I roll my eyes at him, as he walks around the front of the car. When he gets in, he’s still smirking, proud of his efforts.

“Where’s your phone?” he asks as the car wakes up, rumbling beneath us.

“In my bag.”

“Sync it up.” He presses the screen a few times, and the words ‘Connect to Taylah’s iPhone’ flash on the screen.

“What’s that about?” I point to my name in front of us.

“What?” He shrugs. “I like it when you sing for me.”

Turning my head, I look out the window, hiding my flushed face. “You know I’m not actually singing for you, right?”

“For my sake, let’s pretend, okay?”

Reaching for my phone, I connect it to the car stereo and look for a song. “And, you don’t care what I pick?”

“Nope,” he says, letting the end of the word pop. “Sometimes surprises are good.”

Shawn Mendes’s voice surrounds us both, singing about being nervous, self-conscious and little too excited. Alternating between humming and singing, I lose myself in the song, lip syncing along to the lyrics. Feeling more relaxed and a little less tongue tied as each moment passes, I watch the streets pass me by waiting to see which one of us breaks the ice first.

I catch him glancing at me from the corner or his eye, as the song comes to an end. Instead of the intermittent silence I’m expecting, Shawn’s voice starts up again.

I look at him wanting an explanation, but he ignores my questioning, giving me instructions instead. “Sing it again for me, Crazy.”

After listening to the song no less than fifteen times, we arrive in front of my house. The music stops, and my stomach churns with anxiety.

On the surface, he and I know how to be. We can smile and flirt, exchange touches and share glances, but now it’s only us; bare, and exposed, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear his truth.

Rummaging through my purse, I pull out my house keys and take hold of the door handle. “I don’t really know where to go from here,” I confess.

“I hate that I made you nervous around me.” I don’t rush to ease his conscience choosing to see where he takes the conversation instead. “I envisioned such a different outcome for tonight when I called you, and now I just feel like shit for fucking it up.”

“It’s okay to change your mind and decide you made a mistake by asking me out.”

“God, Crazy, you’re not a fucking mistake.” A pained expression flashes across his face and I don’t know if I’ve hurt him, or he’s hurt for me. “Tonight just caught me off guard.”

“Drix, I’m just as understanding as the next person, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me.” Doubtful, I push him, giving him the out he needs, even if I so desperately don’t want him to take the bait. “You obviously have stuff going on, and I’d rather call it a day, than have you convince yourself to enjoy my company.” I place my hand on his knee in comfort. “We can live the rest of our lives bumping into one another at Jagger and Emerson’s place, it’s no big deal.”

“And what? Wonder what it would’ve been like every time I look at you?”

“Maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be between you and me.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “It doesn’t feel right to end it before we’ve even given it a try.”

“Drix, we barely know each other.”

He turns his head, his eyes studying mine while he asks me what seems to be a random question. “Do you know how many women I’ve given my number to?”

“No,” I answer. “I also don’t really know what that has to do with anything.”

“The answer is none.” He pushes strands of my hair behind my ears, like he needs to take a better look at me. “I’m a fuck and run type of guy. It doesn’t paint me in the best light, but it’s the truth. I’m the one that will take the number if I want it, and call if I need it.” Surprised, my face pulls back ever so slightly, but enough for him to notice. His fingers move from behind my ears, down the side of my face, until he’s holding my chin. My attention is all on him. “And while ripping that dress off you has been high on my list of things to do since I first laid eyes on you tonight. I think you should know.” He pauses, dramatically, leaning over until his lips hover over mine. The air between us becomes thick and tight, the idea of kissing becomes a deep rooted need that sends tingles through my body in anticipation. “Crazy,” he rasps, bringing me back to the moment. “This is the first time I don’t want to fuck and run.”

His admission opens the floodgates, restraint and sensibility disappearing, only to be replaced by the reality of his confession. What it means for me, what it means for him, and what it means for us right now.

Lips find mine, and for a split second time stands still for the two people who shouldn’t make sense. Unmoving, we hold onto one another, hands on either side of our faces. We start a slow, yet passionate exploration, tongues that meet in greeting. Hello. I’m here. I want you.

Gentle turns to needy, and suddenly I’m drowning in the simplest form of pleasures. His tongue strokes the inside of my mouth, leaving marks on my memory, and impressions on my heart. I return everything he gives me with a fervour I didn’t know I possessed, submitting to our complicated honesty, imperfect truths, and everything that makes this moment real.

Reluctantly we pull apart, and he leans his forehead into mine.

“Do you want to come inside?” I ask breathlessly.

He drops one last chaste kiss before opening the door, and hopping out. Wordlessly he accepts my invitation.