I’m standing face to face with Ian Brooks. And he’s smiling at me.

God, that smile.

That face.

That body.

That soft white cotton tee shirt covering his hard chest and tattooed arms.

I mean, who would have thought that Ian Brooks from high school would grow up into six feet of pure man.

Fuck me.

“Cora?” he asks, “Did you hear me?”

He startles me and I realize that I’ve been staring shamelessly and completely missed the last thing he said.

I fight to keep my cool.

I also see Dan looking at me, wondering why I’m talking to a single patron instead of tending to my other tables.

Right. I’m working.

Ian smirks. I’ve been gawking and he’s noticed. He probably gets that all the time now.

“I should get back to work,” I tell him, making no effort to return to the floor.

‘Probably, yeah,” he says, making no effort to get back to the party.

Dan glares at me. Okay, I’m really leaving this time.

“What time do you get off tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” All I heard was get off.

“I’d like to take you out after your shift. Maybe a drink or a bite to eat. Not a date or anything. I just want to see how you’re doing,” he says, seeming to sense my hesitation. “No pressure. Just dinner.”

He has this hopeful look in his eye, like he’s just asked me to prom and is holding his breath waiting for a yes.

“I’d love to,” I say, “I get off around two.”

He looks relieved. “Perfect. I’ll be here.”

* * *

The rest of my shift drags on at a snail’s pace. I check the time, thinking that hours have passed, but it’s only been twenty minutes.

When Dan mercifully announces last call, I know the clock has struck two. The lights go up. The patrons head out, looking for afterparties.

I scan the room for Ian, but don’t see him. Maybe he’s bailing. Or made other plans. It is pretty late and he is a famous rock star after all. I start my sidework as Aya joins me, loading trays with glassware.

Suddenly, she looks up towards the entrance.

“Mmh,” she grunts. I know that grunt. It’s that achy, sexually-frustrated sound of someone who desperately wants to get her hands on another someone.

Ian’s here.

I’m pretty sure I made that noise too when I first saw him. In my mind anyway. Before the room started spinning.

He approaches us and I think I hear Aya panting.

“Are you ready, Cora?” he asks.

I look around. “I’ve got some work to get through, it might be another— Ouch!”

Aya knocks me in the ribs. “She’s ready.”

“Aya!”

“No, I’ll cover for you. I owe you one from last week.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Now!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go change.”

“I’ll wait for you by the hostess stand,” Ian says. He winks at me and walks off.

“Thanks,” I tell Aya, giving her a quick hug.

“No problem,” she replies, “But, girl, if you don’t get that yummy boy naked in your bed in an hour, you’re a failure at being a person.”

I blush, wondering if Ian heard that.

“Seriously,” she continues, making no effort to keep her voice down. “I want to bite him like an apple.”

I laugh. “What does that even mean?”

I meet Ian at the hostess stand and we head to a twenty-four-hour diner a few blocks away. I’ve let my hair down and changed out of my cocktail dress and into the outfit I’d been wearing all day, a pair of tight jeans, a long, threadbare grey tee-shirt and canvas sneakers. I suddenly wish it were twenty times sexier.

Maybe I should have left the heels on.

In flat shoes, Ian is almost a head taller than I am.

I like it. I feel delicate next to him.

His fingers graze mine and I shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks, shrugging his jacket from his shoulders and sliding it over mine.

“No,” I answer, “Not cold.” Just nervous. I try to give the jacket back.

“Take it anyway,” he insists.

“Won’t you be cold?” I ask.

“Nah, I run hot,” he tells me.

“Yeah.” Very hot.

“Yeah what?” he asks.

I feel my cheeks flush. “Nothing."

We take seats in a booth across from each other as a server, a giddy teenage girl who is trying and failing to pretend that she doesn’t recognize Ian, hands us menus.

We read our menus.

We look around the room at the specials.

We people watch.

And now we’ve been quiet for so long it’s weird.

I try to work up the nerve to talk, but, for some reason, I’ve decided that the next few words out of my mouth will be the most important sentence I’ve ever uttered. So, naturally, I’m speechless. Come on, Cora. Just fucking talk.

I open my mouth just as Ian asks, “How’s acting going?”

I’m caught by surprise.

“It’s… well,” I fumble.

“That’s good,” he says, smirking.

“I mean it’s good. It’s going well,” I lie, “I got the lead in a thesis film by a UCLA student. And I’ve been in some plays and stuff. Nothing big, though.”

Okay, none of that is technically lies, but the film went nowhere and the plays were attended almost exclusively by the friends and family of the cast. And none of it was paid. But I try to make it sound better than it is.

“And I have a meeting about a part in a music video,” I tell him. “My agent called this afternoon, but I haven’t been able to get back to him yet. I honestly don’t even remember him considering me for the job.”

Ian smiles. “That’s awesome. I’m sure you’ll get it.

“I hope so,” I say, “I mean, it’s not the kind of stuff I really want to do, but I’m not really at a place in my career where I get to be choosy.”

“Really?” he asks, “What kind of stuff do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, “I… I want to be able to take on the hardest roles out there. The video stuff would be cool, but it’s kind of…”

“Beneath you?” Ian volunteers.

“No, of course not,” I stammer, “I don’t mean it like that. I just… I want to be able to do the kind of roles that only the best actors can play. Not just the roles that any pretty girl can do.”

“I understand what you mean,” he says, “I want Say Yes to go down in history as one of the great rock bands, but most people want to put us in the same box as every sellout pop-punk-wannabe band. Same as all the others.”

“You’re not though,” I say, “You guys are pretty good.”

“Thanks,” he says, sarcasm in his voice, “We were shooting for pretty good.”

“Really good. Incredibly good. The stuff of legends.”

He cuts me off. “Okay, okay, no need to oversell us,” he says with a laugh.

We sip our coffee and the waitress drops off platters of bacon and eggs. We decided on breakfast for dinner.

“So,” he says, “Are you still seeing that guy? The one you dated in high school? Or anyone for that matter. I don’t see a ring.”

“Nope, I’m single,” I answer. “Very single.” Wow, way to sound pathetic, Cora.

“You were dating that guy from the football team. Do you still talk to him? What’s his name?”

I take a shaky breath. “Evan…”

It’s a touchy subject and Ian notices the tension in my voice. “We don’t have to…”

“No, it’s fine,” I start. I clear my throat, trying to figure out how to get all this information out as painlessly as possible.

“Actually, Evan and I went to college together. He went pre-med and I went into the pharmacy program. We got both got into grad school locally after that. Stayed together the whole time. Eventually he proposed. And I said yes.”

“Whoa, you were engaged?” he says, “What happened?”

“You know how it is. School got harder. He started staying out late. I don’t know if he was cheating on me, but, honestly, I don’t think I cared. I’d come home from my internship and drink wine until I fell asleep. Then I’d just do it all again the next day.”

“You weren’t happy,” he says.

“Pretty miserable actually. I told Evan how depressed I felt and that I wanted to quit the program, thinking he’d be supportive, but he told me to suck it up and finish. That it was the adult thing to do.”

“What an asshole.”

“I see his point. I mean, I had a whole career ahead of me. I had my whole life mapped out. But I hated every minute of it,” I tell him. “So we ended things. I moved out. He’s living downtown and he’s on track to be a plastic surgeon. And I live in a studio in the valley and wear a slutty dress to serve cocktails.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Ian says, “You’re fighting for something you love doing. It’s brave.”

“Thanks. I know deep down that I made the right choice. Really,” I say, “But it’s always weird to run into people who knew you when you were the golden child. I feel like I disappoint them.”

“Fuck them,” he says.

“Like it’s that easy.”

“It is that easy. Fuck them. Fuck expectations. If I’d listened to everybody who said the band never make it, I’d… I don’t know. Be a DJ at Bar Mitzvahs or something.”

I laugh, picturing Ian playing cheesy line dances on turntables or whatever DJs do nowadays.

“And I’d have a shit ton of regrets,” he says.

I’m relieved. He gets it.

“I know you’re struggling right now,” he continues, “But you won’t struggle forever. I have faith in you, Cora.”

The corners of my mouth perk up. That’s sweet.

“Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you home.”

* * *

The Lyft drops us off in front of my apartment and Ian climbs the two flights of stairs to walk me to my door like a gentleman. A gentleman with arms full of tattoos, but a gentleman no less. His hand grazes my lower back and it gives me goosebumps.

We stop in front of my door.

“This is me,” I say, silently wishing we had another few floors to climb together.

I look at the ground, bashful, like a teenager on a first date who doesn’t know if she’s about to get kissed or not.

He closes the distance between us.

He looks like he’s going to kiss me. He leans down.

Please, please kiss me.

He pulls me into a hug. Damn.

But, it’s a long hug.

One where he rests his chin on top of my head and I feel his stubble through my hair. One where he gathers me close to his chest and I find out that he smells like leather and body wash and it makes me dizzy.

“Good night, Cora,” he says, his voice something deep and seductive.

“Good night,” I respond.

He lets me go and I feel suddenly cold. Part of me thought that he’d try and invite himself in. And by thought, I mean hoped. But Ian’s too much of a gentleman for that.

It’s nice. Frustrating, but nice.

He heads for the stairs.

I unlock the door.

“Do you have a phone?” he asks, doubling back.

“Most people do,” I say, snarky.

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, do you have a phone number?”

I nod and surrender my cell. He dials his own number and his phone rings.

“Say Yes is having a show tomorrow night. At the Anonymous Bar,” he say, “It’s sold out, but I’ll put you on the list. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll think about it,” I reply.

He drops his voice to a low whisper and takes a step closer. “I’d really like it if you came.”

I swallow hard. It’s torture having him this close.

My voice gets breathy. “I want to come,” I tell him.

He laughs and I turn scarlet.

He leans in for another hug and a light kiss on the cheek. Only I turn at the same time and he doesn’t get my cheek.

I accidentally kiss his lips.

“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time.

“It’s fine.” I try to hide my smile.

We bid each other goodbye, for real this time, and I shut the door behind him.