Emma

I asked if he minded me using the bathroom at the gym to freshen up. I didn’t know what I expected coming here, but accepting a lunch invitation definitely wasn’t on the list. What are you going to do next, Em? Lunch won’t last forever and I can’t exactly sleep at a boxing gym. I’ve got $250 of stashed cash, a blank check from my parents, and a credit card I applied for about a month ago in my own name. Other than that, I’m totally broke. I google a nearby hotel and make a reservation on my phone. That’ll have to do for tonight. I’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes. Right now, there’s a handsome man out there waiting to take me to lunch.

The cool water instantly refreshes and rejuvenates my senses as it splashes over my face. The citrusy scent of the foam soap replaces the musky, woodsy smell of the outdoors. My body aches for a long, hot bath right now, and my feet are screaming at me from inside my running shoes. Thankfully, I dressed for comfort rather than style this morning when I left the house, choosing charcoal gray leggings and a hot pink and gray tank top.

Is this a date? What am I thinking? This can’t be a date. It’s just a simple lunch between friends. Are we friends? I mean… I guess we’re friends. This man has me twisted more ways than a pretzel stick from a mall kiosk. Emma, you stink. Your hair smells like a wet dog. You’re wearing leggings and a tank top and you smell like bathroom dispenser soap. Not exactly sexy lunch date material. This is definitely not a date. Did I shave? I run my hand over the exposed part of my calves to check. Smooth as silk. Okay, good. Not that he’ll be touching my legs, but… what if there’s an accident and he has to cut my pants off? Hey, it could happen…

Am I wearing cute panties? Oh my God. Why am I worried about my panties? Why am I so nervous all of a sudden? I’ve managed to turn into a hormonal teenage girl in a matter of minutes. Oh, I know why. Because I definitely noticed the way he looks in his jeans. And the way his hot pink polo hugs his biceps like it’s hanging on for dear life. The way the black ink of his tattoos winds and coils around his skin, taking it over, claiming it. It takes a real man to pull off a hot pink polo and he is most certainly pulling off that polo. I’d like to pull off his polo. For Pete’s sake, Emma, focus.

Did I put on deodorant? I lift my arm away from my body just enough to smell myself. Not bad for a woman who just ran all the way through the hundred-acre woods. Still, I press the button and fill my palm with more of the foamy soap, spreading it underneath both arms, then rinsing it off with sink water. Next stop: the lady bits. Do I dare? I look around the private bathroom as if an invisible person has snuck in through the locked door. Then, I check the lock on the handle to make sure it’s pushed all the way in. I chew my bottom lip and stare at myself in the mirror, contemplating. What the hell am I thinking? He’s not going anywhere near my vagina. Calm your tits, Em, it’s just lunch- where he was going anyway, until you called and interrupted.

Now I feel guilty.

My insecurities take the wheel and I start to question if coming here was a good idea. He could be meeting someone else for lunch. Someone beautiful. Someone confident and successful. Someone who doesn’t have to hide.

Alex

I scroll through my inbox while I wait for Emma to come out of the bathroom. There’s an email from Titan that needs immediate attention, so I take a seat on the trainer’s table to take care of it. I know women generally spend more time in the loo than men, but, damn, it seems like she’s been in there forever. I’m tempted to knock on the door and see if she’s okay.

Three emails later, she walks out with her head down, staring at the white ceramic tiles as she glides across the floor. She always seems to have this cloud of uncertainty hovering above her. I wish I had the ability to heave a deep breath and blow it away. That’s not right- I know I have the ability. If given the chance, I could make her feel like the beautiful piece of perfection she is. I just need her to let me.

I slide off the padded seat and move to meet her, causing her to startle at my presence. “Hey, it’s okay, love. It’s just me,” I assure her, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her balance. She lifts her head to meet my gaze, and her eyes are overcome with sadness. “Everything okay?” I ask, not expecting a truthful response.

She huffs a sigh and looks away, “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I just didn’t think anyone was back here.”

Before I can stop myself, I’m trailing my hand up the side of her neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Look at me. Please.

As if I’ve willed her to do so with the sound of my voice, she looks up and into my eyes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I took so long. I just needed to freshen up. You know, I was thinking,” she starts, changing the subject. The glimmer slowly begins to reappear in her gaze. “You never told me your name.”

I let my hand fall to my side. If I keep touching her like this, while she’s looking at me like that, I’m going to have to kiss her. She’s right, though. Out of all the times I’ve seen her, we’ve never had a proper introduction. How is it possible to feel such an intense connection with someone you hardly know?

“Nathan,” I say without thinking. I’ve never introduced myself by my given name. Not since the day I turned ten years old. Even saying it out loud now sounds foreign to me, like I’m talking about someone I used to know. I don’t know why. I don’t know what it is about her. But I don’t want any walls between us. Being with her isn’t like meeting a “friend of a friend” or a woman at a bar. She’s different. I knew it from the moment I saw her at the coffee shop. “But, everyone calls me Alex.”

Her brows crunch together as she narrows her eyes. “That doesn’t sound anything like Nathan,” she says, as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” I admit, with a chuckle. She’s still watching me for an explanation, and it’s so tempting to keep her wondering. But she raises her eyebrows and cocks her cute little head, and I give in. “I’m named after my father, Nathan Alexander,” I explain, and her mouth forms that sexy fucking “o” as she puts the pieces together. “We don’t have the best relationship. So, rather than giving him the honor of bearing his name, I go by Alex.”

“From Alexander... I get it.” She purses her lips, as if there’s still part of the mystery to be solved.

“Yes, from Alexander,” I confirm. She’s still eyeing me, head tilted, all curious-like. I know she wants to ask more, but she’s trying to be polite. It’s okay, sweetheart. I have so much I want to ask you, too. I place my hand at the small of her back and nod my head toward the door. Her body stiffens then relaxes at my touch. “Why don’t we continue this over lunch?”

I open the door, letting her climb in the passenger side of my Rover. She hesitates before closing the door, like she wants to say something but decides not to.

“Thank you,” she says once I get inside.

“For?”

Her soft brown eyes study my face as she pauses to answer. “Everything.”

Something about her answer puts my stomach in knots. I’ve done nothing, nothing out of the ordinary. The thought she may have never had a man show her kindness rips my heart in two.

“Alex,” she says, with a contagious smile that lights up her eyes.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” she answers, with a shake of her head, “After all this time, it just seemed fitting to finally say your name.”

Fuck lunch. I’m taking her to my place so I can show her how it feels to scream it.

Emma

Alex is watching me, his finger planted on the push-to-start button on his dash, not moving. Did I say something wrong? Maybe he doesn’t like his name. I think it suits him. I want to ask more about his father. I want to ask why he wears a suit on Monday mornings if he spends all his time in a boxing gym. I want to know why he shaved his adorable curls. I want to know everything about this man. But that would mean telling him things about myself in return, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

“Hi, I’m Emma, and I just watched my psycho boyfriend shoot my dog after he found my journal. And now I’m running from him because I’m afraid I’m next.”

Yeah, that would have him running for the hills in a hot minute. We’ll keep it simple for now. That’s the safe thing to do.

“So, are we waiting for someone else?” Please, say no.

Oh crap. He looks embarrassed. Maybe I shouldn’t have made the name comment…

“No. Sorry. You’re just um…” He presses the button, drawing a low hum from the engine as it purrs to life. He turns back to face me, a gorgeous grin spread across his face. The sparkle in his smile lights up his whole face. I could stare at him forever and never get tired of seeing that smile. “You’re a bit distracting. At times,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh.

Yes, well, so are you.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not a bad thing,” he tells me as he pulls out of the parking lot onto the street.

Stop second guessing yourself, Emma. He isn’t Bastain. He’s not judging everything I say or calculating my next move. He’s a man. I’m a woman. Simple as that. There’s no hidden agenda. Just a man and a woman trying to do what normal people do. God, I wish I were normal.

I thought he said Cuban food? Why is he making a left turn on 1st Street? He clicks his blinker as we inch closer to 1929 Havana. You’ve gotta be kidding me. You need reservations for this place on any given evening. I am not dressed for an upscale restaurant, and I smell like an air freshener.

“This is your idea of Cuban food?” I tease, with a smirk.

He looks surprised and a little bit hurt. “Up until about five seconds ago, yes.”

I can’t help but giggle. I have a feeling the man behind the perfect abs and three-piece suit doesn’t get contradicted much. “Take a left on 8th. And get ready.” He cocks a brow, looking at me from the corner of his eye. It’s adorable. “I’m about to rock your world,” I add with a wink, hoping it takes some of the sting out of my mocking his lunch choice.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he shifts in his seat. Oh, God. Too much with the winking? Shit. Maybe I should just sit here and stare quietly out the window. I’m so not good at this. “With food,” I explain. Oh no. That doesn’t sound any better. “I mean… the food is gonna rock your world…” I’m just digging myself deeper and deeper. I should just shut up now, quit while I’m ahead. I throw my head back against the seat and close my eyes in defeat. He laughs.

“That’s too bad. Things were just getting interesting,” he says, behind a cheesy grin. There’s that sparkle in his eye again, and that dimple. How can one man be so simultaneously intimidating and adorable?

I feel the instant flush in my cheeks as I focus on my hands in my lap. I wish I were better at this. But, the truth is, confident people flirt. And I haven’t been a confident person in a very long time. I return his comment with a shy smile and guide him the rest of the way to Little Havana.