Alina
WE SAT IN silence for the next two minutes. I sensed his stare the entire time, him only looking away when he ordered a drink. “Do you want another one?” I didn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you. I was just trying to be friendly.” The sincerity in his voice had me turning my head to look at him once again. I hadn’t meant to come across as a bitch, but entertaining someone was the last thing on my mind.
I decided to play nice. The liquid courage coursing through my veins made it easier than it would’ve been moments prior.
“I’m sorry for being so rude. It’s just been that kind of night.” The condensation on my drink allowed my finger to trail up and down the glass with ease while I openly stared at the handsome stranger. His hair was dark, a little longer on top than what I was used to seeing on the men who attended these types of fundraisers. Piercing chocolate-colored eyes roamed my face, settling on my mouth a second too long before making eye contact with me once more. His clean shaven face allowed me to see he had a small scar on his chin, and I wanted so badly to ask him how it happened, but of course, I didn’t. A dimple appeared on his left cheek when he smiled, but that feature wasn’t what drew my attention. It was his lips, his lower fuller than the top. When his tongue captured a lone drop of his drink from his lips, I instinctively parted my own.
“Are you okay?” he asked, tapping the top of my hand with his finger.
“What?” I startled. “Yes. I was just thinking about something I have to take care of later.” I lied, but he didn’t need to know that.
A momentary silence ensued before either of us spoke again.
“I’m Maxton,” he offered, extending his hand while patiently waiting for me to accept his greeting. Luckily not all my manners had left me. I placed my palm in his, and he gripped it tightly. The heat of his skin tingled, and a random thought of his hands all over my body assaulted me. Shaking my head to clear the sudden thought, I pulled my hand from his.
“Maxton? That’s an unusual name?”
“Well, most people call me Max.” Brief silence again. “And you are?” he asked, elongating the word are.
“Alina.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Alina.” No hesitation on his part followed before he bombarded me with personal questions. “So, why are you so upset you’ve turned to alcohol to cope? Problems with your job? Or could it be issues in your love life? Tell me you’re not hitched to someone. Tell me I have a shot,” he teased, placing his hand over his heart in mock seriousness.
“Boy, you’re really not afraid to say whatever’s on your mind, are you?
“No point in wasting time.” He flashed me a smile, and unlike Chris’s, his appeared heartfelt and genuine. “I see you’re not wearing a ring, so I’m guessing you’re not married. You seeing anybody?” He took a sip of his drink, licking those damn lips again before placing the glass on the bar.
“I guess I am.”
“You guess you are?” He looked baffled, and I couldn’t say I blamed him.
For some inexplicable reason, I found the conversation with Max uncomplicated, if that made any sense at all. That didn’t mean I wasn’t unnerved being so close to him. And because I couldn’t accurately describe the way he made me feel, I chalked it up to attraction.
I became lost in the moment, staring at his features, especially his mouth, or watching the way his index finger followed the shape of the rim of his glass, over and over again, entrancing me so much so I almost forgot he asked me a question.
Quickly shaking myself out of whatever spell he’d cast over me, I answered, “I’ve been involved with someone for barely a month, and already my father insists on us becoming engaged. He just told me he’s announcing it shortly, hence the hard alcohol.” I took a large gulp of my drink. “The wedding is set for the fall.” As soon as the words had left my lips, I realized what I’d divulged and slapped my hand over my mouth, knowing the liquor was partly to blame. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just told you all that. I don’t even know you.”
Without missing a beat, he continued the ludicrous conversation, to my dismay. I wasn’t someone who blurted out my personal life to friends, let alone complete strangers. Everything had to be just so, my reputation, and that of my father’s, of the utmost importance. Or so I’d been told my entire life.
“So you don’t want to marry this guy then?”
“I can’t talk to you about this.” I signaled the bartender for another drink, knowing damn well I should switch to water, especially after seeing the amused look on Max’s face. Because I was sure he was going to continue to press me for more information, I needed all my wits about me, but instead of being smart, I decided to throw caution to the wind.
What’s the worst that can happen?
“Why not? I’m the perfect one to talk to. We don’t know each other so there won’t be any judgment.” He crossed his heart as if he was a boy scout, the corners of his mouth curving up again. I took a deep breath, contemplating canceling my drink order and walking away, or giving in to the impulse to be free to say whatever I wanted. For once in my life. Besides, he was right. He was a total stranger, and I’d most likely never see him again. New York was a large city, after all. So, after draining the rest of my drink, I decided to indulge him and bare it all.
Little did I know my one bout of vulnerability would turn around to bite me.