Only One Mistake, page 3
He laughs. “Idiot, like you are going to go on record saying he’s an asshole.” I laugh with him. “So what happens?”
“Now,” I say, looking around, “I’m going to get something to eat, and then I’m off tomorrow, so I hope to sleep the whole fucking day and hope they are talking about something else when I wake up.” To be in the press constantly was fucking with my head. The past five months have been mentally draining for me. “Actually, can you do me a favor?”
“Anything,” he says without skipping a beat.
“Can you fuck up someone tonight? Maybe do an illegal hit,” I say, and he just bursts out laughing.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He chuckles. “We are playing against Toronto, so who knows.” His voice goes low. “Seriously, let me know if I can do anything.”
“Yeah,” I reply, tapping the steering wheel. “It’s safe to say the worst is over.”
He groans. “Don’t fucking say that. Remember what happened when you said that two summers ago?” I roll my lips. “The worst is over. And then bang, I get stung by a jellyfish, and my foot swelled up five times its size. Alex kept taking pictures in case it exploded.”
I laugh. “I think she made it her Christmas card that year.” I shake my head.
“The headline was: If You Think You Are on Santa’s Bad List, Check Out This Chump,” he says between clenched teeth. “I didn’t talk to her.”
“For ten minutes,” I remind him, and he huffs out.
“It was for two days,” he counters. “And the only reason I caved is she bought me my favorite snacks and said sorry.”
“I don’t remember ever hearing an I’m sorry.” I laugh. “I think it was more like don’t be a pussy-ass bitch.”
“I have to go,” he huffs. “And I take back the if you need anything.”
“No, you don’t.” He doesn’t even say bye. He just hangs up, leaving me laughing. Driving over to Sullivan’s, I park and get out.
I pull the baseball hat lower on my face and look down as I walk into the restaurant. The cold air hits me right away, and I look around. A brown hostess stand is to the left. A blonde stands there and then looks up at me, smiling. “Welcome to Sullivan’s. Are we dining in or out?” she asks. I contemplate just taking the food back with me but then think of sitting on that white leather couch.
“I’ll be dining in,” I say. “For one. And can I have a table in the back corner?” I see that the bar spans the back wall of the restaurant, and they have sections on both the right and left side. All the tables are high-tops, and depending on the size of the table, they seat from two to eight.
She grabs a brown menu and smiles at me. “Please follow me,” she says, turning and walking to the right and going all the way to the corner of the restaurant. My eyes are never roaming and making eye contact because if someone recognizes me, I’ll spend the whole meal wondering if they are taking pictures of me. She stops in front of a table with four chairs. “Is this okay?”
There are two tables next to it, but none are taken. “This works,” I say, going to the corner stool that puts my back against the wall but lets me have a view of the restaurant.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” she says to me, and I just nod, grabbing the menu. The sound of people chattering fills the air, as well as the sound of plates clinking when I feel someone beside my table, and I look up.
My eyes meet the bluest eyes I have ever seen in my life. She gives me a little smile, and I can tell that she is nervous since she is wringing her hands in front of her. The girl stands there looking at me. “Sorry, are you Zander?”
Chapter 4
Jillian
* * *
My heart is about to come out of my chest or my throat at this point. “Sorry, are you Zander?”
I ask him, and he just looks at me. His blue eyes are a bit guarded as he scans my face. The longer he doesn’t say anything, the faster my heart beats in my chest and the more nervous I get. His face gives away nothing as I stand here. I try not to let my eyes linger down to his muscled arms that fill out the gray shirt he’s wearing.
The minute the Uber dropped me off outside, I got this feeling inside me that made me even more nervous. During the whole ride over, I kept asking myself why I didn’t ask him for a picture. I kept asking myself why I didn’t confirm the date with him today. I kept asking myself why the hell I put myself in this situation. With every step I took, my heart just beat faster and faster.
When I walked in, the chattering filled the area, and the hostess made eye contact with me before I could turn and run away. I had no choice but to pretend that I was okay, even though I felt like I was going to yack all over the place. I asked the hostess if there was someone here alone, and she pointed at this guy in the corner. I walked over to him, my hands shaky and my palms so sweaty I had to hold them together to calm myself down. The sound of my heels clicking on the floor echoed in my ears.
His head was down while I made my way to him, but that was good because it gave me a chance to check him out. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and a baseball cap. My head was yelling to turn away before he looked up. The guy came to a date in a baseball cap? Talk about not making an effort. “I’m supposed to be meeting a Zander here,” I say as he just stares at me, and even if he wore the cap, I would forgive him because holy fucking shit, he is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. If he is desirable in a baseball hat, can you imagine how hot he is when he really makes an effort? “We were supposed to meet here at seven.” I start to word vomit and can literally hear Julia tell me to shut the fuck up.
He shakes his head. “I’m not Zander.” His voice comes out smooth, and my face suddenly gets hot, and I wait for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
My eyes go big as I think of what to say. Sorry, I’m looking for a date and I don’t know what he looks like because I’m an idiot and thought a blind date would be fun. “I am so sorry,” I apologize, trying not to feel like an idiot. “I won’t keep you any longer. Have a great evening,” I say and turn around, walking away from him and waiting to trip over something and be roadkill in the middle of the restaurant. My eyes focus on my feet as I try not to make a spectacle of myself.
I walk back over to the hostess stand and see the same girl who smiled at me when I walked in here. “That’s not him.” She tilts her head to the side, not sure what to tell me.
“He is the only one who came in alone,” she says, pointing over at the guy, and I look and see the waitress taking his order. “Other than him, there are no other single guys.” She looks down at the paper in front of her. “Did you make a reservation?”
“It would be for Zander or Jillian,” I say, not sure if maybe Zander made the reservation. She looks down at her paper as the door opens again, and I turn my head, hoping to see a single man come in, but I see a couple instead. They stand behind me, waiting for the hostess.
“There is no one under that name,” she says, and if I didn’t feel like a loser before, I feel like one now. Especially considering the weird face she just gave me.
“Is it okay if I wait at the bar?” I ask, looking around the restaurant and seeing that it’s starting to get a touch busier than when I walked in. The door opens again, and five girls walk in.
“That’s okay, but if we need the seat,” she says, and I just nod at her and walk toward the back of the restaurant to the bar. I glance over my shoulder to look back at the stranger I interrupted and see that he’s on his phone. He laughs and picks up his hand, bending it to scratch the back of his head, and I see the muscles in his arms flex. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I mumble. How can he get hotter? Why couldn’t he be my blind date? I think to myself and turn, getting on a stool, ignoring the need to look back over and see if he’s still laughing.
The bartender comes over. “What can I get for you?” he says, and I want to say a bottle of wine with a straw, but instead, I smile.
“I’ll have soda water with lime, please.” I look down at my phone to see if I have a missed call. The screen saver of Julia and me greets me and nothing else. The bartender comes back and puts down a white napkin in front of me and then puts down the short glass of bubbly water with a wedge of lime in it. “Thank you,” I say, and he slides the paper bill to me. I grab the small clutch purse in my hand and take out my credit card. I look down the dark burgundy bar top seeing most of the chairs taken as people talk to each other. I look back over to the door and see a line of people, but no one is looking around for anyone.
My phone buzzes, and I pick it up so fast I’m surprised I don’t drop it. I turn it over and see that Julia texted me.
Julia: You look amazing.
I smile, opening the chat and seeing the picture I sent her right before I left home. It was me in the hallway of my condo wearing the black jeans that fit a touch tighter than I remember and the black silky tank top that went a touch lower in the front, showing off a bit more cleavage than what I usually wear.
Julia: How is it going?
I shake my head while I answer her and quickly look over at the hot guy who is not Zander.
Me: I just met the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. IN. MY. WHOLE. LIFE.
I press send and take another sip of water. The citrus from the lime hits my tongue right away, and then the bubbles explode on my tongue. It doesn’t take long for my phone to buzz, and I pick it back up to check, smiling when I see her name.
Julia: So, the blind date turned out to be hot. What are the chances? You should play the lottery!!!
I laugh. “Oh, the chances are slim to none,” I say to myself as I type out my response to her.
Me: He’s not my blind date. I thought he was and went over to introduce myself, and it turns out he’s not Zander.
Julia: SHUT UP!
Me: I thought I was going to die. I was so embarrassed, and then my whole body was shaking, and I was afraid that I was going to trip with these stupid heels that I decided would be a good idea to wear tonight.
I look down at the black shoes I bought for my cousin’s wedding last year and decided to dress it up tonight. The minute I put them on, I felt the pinch in my baby toe, but I figured why not.
Julia: What if he is and is lying to you???
I gasp and turn to look back at the table and see that he’s eating a burger as he scrolls on his phone. His eyes never look up.
Me: Very doubtful. He is definitely not dressed for a date. He is wearing a baseball hat, for heaven’s sake. Even if he was Zander, would he show up on a date looking like he didn’t care?
Julia: hmmm…
I look back over and take another look at him.
Me: He looks like he just got out of the gym. There is no way he would show up for a date in sneakers. Don’t you want to make a good impression?
Julia: He could be sizing you up. Maybe see you, say damn she’s hot, and then I don’t know, make an excuse and then meet you again when he’s all dressed up.
Me: How would any of that make sense since I saw his face? I would remember his face.
Julia: I don’t know. I’ve never done the whole blind date because people are crazy out there.
Me: Thanks for all of your uplifting comments.
I press send and take another sip of my drink.
Me: Seriously, how long do I give him to show up?
Julia: How late is Mr. Blind Date?
I look at the clock.
Me: Eighteen minutes.
Julia: One second, let me check and see if there are any accidents with casualties.
“Oh, good God,” I say and then look over to see the hot guy on his phone again.
“Excuse me.” I hear the hostess and turn my head, picking it up, wondering if I spot someone waiting at the door, but there is only a couple. The whole place is jam-packed. Not one table seems to be free. “I’m going to need to seat,” she says.
“Of course,” I say, the heat running up my neck as I try not to make eye contact with her. I grab my purse off my lap and push away from the bar, taking my phone in my hand. Walking back to the front door, I keep my head down, afraid to look up and see the stranger watching me do another walk of shame. I push the hair back from my face once I get to the front door and go to the corner.
My hands tremble as I look back at my phone, trying not to focus on the sting of tears working their way up to my eyes. I blink away faster and faster to push it back.
My hands are clammy from sweat and nervousness as I pull up the text thread between Julia and me, taking a huge deep breath in.
Me: I’m giving him fifteen more minutes, and then I’m out.
Chapter 5
Michael
My eyes keep flying back to the bar every ten seconds, and I have to tell myself to knock that shit off. When she walked away from the table, I took a long look at her ass. And I mean long, her blond hair swaying left to right as she walked.
When she stood in front of me, I could tell she was nervous, and then when I said I wasn’t Zander, I could feel that she was mortified. She put on a brave face and then turned around. I spotted her a couple of minutes later, walking back to the bar and sitting down. She looked around a couple of times, but she was mostly on her phone, her fingers going crazy. The restaurant is packed to the brim, and I’m happy I came when I did. I’m also happier that no one knows who I am.
Spotting the hostess, I follow her with my eyes as she zigzags her way over to the bar. She stops next to the blue-eyed girl, and then I see her smile and push away from the bar, walking to the front door.
Maybe Zander finally arrived, I think to myself, looking at my phone and seeing that it’s seven forty-five. The asshole is forty-five minutes late, and he didn’t think to call her. I shake my head as the waitress comes over and hands me the small black folder with the bill inside. I take out my credit card and place it inside. My eyes focus on the entrance to see if the hostess comes back with the blonde.
I push away from the table before I even know what I’m doing and stop at the hostess stand. My eyes roam, and I see the blonde standing in the corner, facing out, with her arms crossed over her chest. Mind your own business, my head screams while something else screams, go get ’em, cowboy.
The hostess spots me and smiles at me as I walk past her. “Are you still waiting?” My voice comes out higher than I wanted it to come out. She turns, and I can see the tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to blink away the tears, and I know that is what she’s doing because I’ve seen Alex do it enough times in my life.
“You’re still waiting for Zander?” I ask, putting my hands in my pockets before I do something stupid like pull her in for a hug.
“I was,” she answers, putting her phone in her purse, “but I’m officially done waiting.” She tries to shrug it off, and I have a chance to look at her up close. His lips are full and plump and are dying to be kissed.
“Why don’t you come and let me buy you a drink?” I say the words before my brain even registers what’s coming out of my mouth.
The blonde stares at me with her mouth open, and I notice how slender her neck is. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” she says, shaking her head and trying to laugh it off. I can tell she’s nervous. “Now that would be even sadder.”
“Please,” I say. “Let me do this.”
“I’m not taking a pity drink.” She shakes her head.
“It’s not a pity drink.” I smirk when her eyebrows shoot up. “I have a sister, and if she was stood up, I would want someone to make her feel better.”
She folds her arms over her chest, pushing her tits higher, and I can see the swell of her breasts, my mouth waters. “If your sister got stood up, you would want a stranger to buy her a drink?”
I listen to the words and grimace, making her laugh, the sound making my cock perk up. “Okay, fine.” Taking my hands out of my pockets, I hold them up. “I would probably hunt down the guy.”
“Probably?” she says, shaking her head and looking down. When she looks up again at me, it’s like time stands still.
“Okay, fine.” I laugh. “I would probably hunt him down, and it would not end well.” I’m about to say something else when commotion from the side makes me turn my head, and I see my waitress there with my credit card in her hand.
“Oh, thank God,” she says. “I thought you forgot your card.” She walks over to me and holds the black folder with the bill in it.
“Actually,” I say, looking at her and then turning to look at the blonde who has her back to the window. “I was just getting my friend,” I say, pointing at her, and I can see the look of confusion on the hostess’s face. “What do you say, friend?” I say. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“Jillian.” She says her name, and her whole face lights up, making her blue eyes crystal blue, but if you look deep enough in them, they have a light green on the bottom. “My name is Jillian.” She holds out her slender hand for me.
My hand reaches out to take hers. “Michael,” I say, smiling at her. “Or Zander, whatever.” She laughs, but her hand still stays in mine. “So what do you say, Jillian?” I tilt my head to the side and smirk at her, hoping she says yes. “Have a drink with me or a meal. You can order food also.”
She smiles shyly and looks down. Her hair falls in front of her face, and she lets go of my hand to tuck it behind her ears. “Sure,” she agrees, looking at me. “Why not? I don’t think my ego can get more bruised than being stood up.”
I let go of the breath that I was holding as I hold out my hand for her to walk in front of me. I put my hand on the base of her back and then immediately drop my hand, and I can still feel the silkiness of her shirt.
The waitress follows me, and when we get to the table, Jillian takes out the seat in front of me that was empty not five minutes ago. “I’ll be back with a menu,” she says, smiling at me, and I sit back down in the chair I was just in.
I’m about to say something when the waitress comes back. “Would you like to start with something to drink?”
