Kiss Me Back

by Sidney Halston

  I hear a bunch of yeses and few tired grumbles. “Finish up and we’ll meet across the street at the diner!” I call out as I start to turn off the lights.

  I see Lola grab her purse and tuck a big wad of tips in her pocket. She’s wearing those earbuds again, so I stroke her forearm to get her attention. Her cheeks are still rosy and her hair is a little wild but her smile widens when she sees me. “Hey,” she whispers.

  “We’re all going to breakfast. On Nick. Come out with us.”

  She bites the corner of her lip in thought and looks around. A bunch of the staff is gathering by the door, and Helen passes me and winks. “Ready,” she announces cheerfully, as if it’s just the two of us for breakfast.

  “I’ll meet you there,” I say to Helen who smiles and walks away. I turn back to Lola.

  “So? Breakfast?”

  She looks over my shoulder and then back at me. “Fine. But only because you’re paying.” She smirks. It’s somewhat flirty but there’s also a bit of jealousy in her eyes as she walks around me and heads to the group by the door.

  I laugh and shake my head. Jealousy, the surefire way to get a woman to go out with you. I should have thought of it sooner.

  Lola

  I’m bone tired and I have to be at the animal clinic in two hours. But it wasn’t worth taking two buses and going home first just to have to head back out. And the thought of good food, not toast or dry cereal, sounds divine.

  It has absolutely nothing to do with Helen constantly eye-fucking Fox.

  Truthfully, I like Helen. She’s a sweet girl and has never been anything but nice to me. But she’s always hitting on Fox and it irks me. It shouldn’t. But it does.

  I’m sitting at the end of the table, as usual always a little outside of the group—physically and metaphorically. I want to fit in, but I don’t know how to. When Fox comes in, he walks straight to the chair next to mine at the head of the table, sits, then turns to me. “Did you all order already?”

  “No.”

  The server comes by and we all give her our orders, including Fox, who probably knows the menu by heart because he never so much as opens it. Once our tired group of ten is served their coffee and juice, Fox stands and gives a little toast thanking everyone for the great night and for staying late, or early as the case may be. He sits and taps his mug to mine and we drink up as the food arrives.

  This is the only time I’ve been out with the group and even though it seems like I have my shit together and I don’t need anyone, I want to be liked, just like everyone else. And I want to make a good impression. Everyone is very nice and it makes me think that maybe I’ll make more of an effort to socialize with them. It’s not like anyone is looking at me as if I’m odd.

  “….so you have a thing for security guys, huh?” I catch Fox saying. I look around and most eyes are on me. I smile as if I know what they’re talking about.

  “Are you going to say yes, Lola? I totally am! Maybe we can double!” Helen says.

  I’m completely confused. I swallow and my brows crease. Gina, another staff member, saves me. “Bee’s security guards? They wanted me to give you and Helen their numbers,” she clarifies and shows me their cards.

  “Oh, uh…”

  “The short dude with the shaved head, and the tall guy with the leather jacket,” Helen adds excitedly. I know Helen’s a flirt so it’s hard to be upset with her. She’s one of those people who means well and is just naturally gorgeous and chirpy. She can easily interchange Fox for another available guy without batting an eye.

  “Oh, yeah, I remember them at the bar,” I say.

  “So, that’s a yes?” Fox asks, grabbing his coffee while waiting for my reply.

  I shake my head and smirk at him. “No. Not a yes.”

  “Come on, chick. It’ll be fun,” Helen says. “Please. You never come out with us. Please…” she whines.

  I smile over my own mug of coffee. “I’ll think about it.” And then the topic moves on to something else. Thank goodness. I’m not really going to think about it. I just don’t want to have to explain myself to the group.

  “You really going to think about it or is that a way to shut the conversation down?”

  “I told you, I don’t date.”

  “Not even rich, powerful men with connections to rock stars?”

  I set my mug down and turn more fully to Fox, who’s leaning comfortably toward me. “No, especially not rich, powerful men.”

  “What can I do to change your mind about your policy?”

  “Maybe I’m starting to have second thoughts about it. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He smiles and puts down his coffee as well. “You’re playing with fire, you know? One moment you’re telling me you can’t go out with me. That you don’t date. The next you’re touching my lips.”

  “I may have changed my mind about a few things.”

  He strokes my arm with one of his fingers. “That’s good to know.”

  I’m not a woman who plays games or has hours to waste on flirting with a man. But I can see how I’m giving him mixed signals. And the simple, lingering touch on my arm makes my throat thicken. I guess all the headiness of attraction that I thought I had locked away after a number of failed dates and the heartbreak of my one long-term relationship cracks open. Well, it’s been cracking open since I met Fox, but it’s now a chasm that I’m ready to dive into, headfirst and hoping for the best.

  “I’m glad I did this,” I admit in my first step to stop leading him on.

  “I am too.”

  I’m tired and it’s going to be an exhausting day. I have to be back tonight at eight and I have a full day at the clinic. At some point I hope I’ll get to squeeze in a nap. But still, I’m glad I came out.

  His knees brush against mine under the table and he’s leaning casually toward me.

  He gets closer and I wonder if the rest of the staff is looking at us. It’s intimate the way his mouth is so close to me. “When you touched me last night…” He licks his lips and my breath catches. “I told you it’s on. I wasn’t fuckin’ around. Are you goin’ to say yes the next time I ask you out, Lola?”

  I try to look away but it’s hard when he’s so near. “I guess you’ll find out when you ask me out again, won’t you?”

  He leans back on his chair with a smirk, but he doesn’t ask me out. He’s thinking, contemplating something.

  I finish my coffee and push back my plate. It’s already past seven and I need to catch a bus to the clinic. “Thanks for breakfast,” I say as I stand up. His hand snags my wrist, and I look down to where he’s touching me and then up at him. His thumb lingers on the inside of my palm for a moment too long. “Sweet dreams, Lola.”

  My breath hitches again and I wave goodbye to everyone and as I walk away, the hairs on the back of my neck are standing. I know his eyes are following me all the way out of the diner.

  Chapter 3

  Fox

  I know it’s going to be a bad day before I even get out of bed.

  Up until three months ago, I had two full-time jobs and I’m not completely accustomed to having so much downtime. I used to work at a high-end restaurant as the day manager and at night I worked at Panic. I quit when I saved enough money—it just became ridiculous to have to live on a handful of hours of sleep a week, yet I find myself doing odd jobs around Panic all the time. I’m not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. But I’ve done well for myself. I make a very good living at Panic, and I managed to save a lot when I was working the two jobs.

  Also, I invested wisely a few years back thanks to my genius brother. But it doesn’t matter how much money I have. I could have millions in the bank and it’s still not enough to keep me sitting at home doing nothing. I’m a fixer. A solver of problems. A man who needs to be
working, moving, doing something. My last girlfriend broke up with me because she said I was a workaholic. I call it being driven. Whatever the case may be, I’ve been working since I was fourteen years old and this is the first time in my life I’ve had only one job and it’s making me crazy to have so much free time.

  Matt and Nick kicked me out of the club earlier this morning when I was going over the camera footage of an altercation between one of our servers and a customer. The customer said that the server was hitting on his wife, and they got into a heated argument. Nick wanted to fire the server but I wanted to check out the video footage first to see what exactly occurred.

  But today’s the anniversary of my brother’s death, and my mind is not where it needs to be. So I push my laptop aside.

  I get up and decide I’m not going to hide out and drink my day away this year like I have every year since that horrible night. I’m a grown-ass man and I can control my actions.

  I go to my fridge, famished. The only thing I find are two eggs. I need to get groceries. When’s the last time I got groceries?

  I crack the eggs, tossing out the yolks, and start to make an egg white omelet. “Shit!” I yell when I realize I’ve burned the eggs. Okay, so the day begins with a terrible breakfast. Maybe all I need to do is get out of the house for a few hours before work.

  I opt for a protein shake, then put on my gym clothes and head out for a run. I’m feeling much better after the first mile but it starts pouring and when the lightning gets really bad, I head back home.

  It’s only ten in the morning, and I’m already feeling like shit.

  I’m not quite sure how I ended up with a bottle of vodka in my hand or how the bottle became halfway empty. I’m not usually a drinker, except today—today I’m a sloppy, going-to-regret-everything-the-next-morning drinker.

  I’m sitting on my couch, stewing, bored, and feeling sorry for myself. I grab my phone and start going through my contacts. There are a lot. People give me their numbers all the time. Men and women alike, mostly to get into Panic since I am the wall between the “cool kids” inside and the “others” that never make it in. Yes, there’s a system, and even though Nick and Matt don’t like that shit, they don’t necessarily stop it from happening. Not to say that I don’t let the less attractive inside, they just don’t get in right away. I need the club filled with the beautiful people of Miami. And I need it full of women. Lots and lots of women. Why? Because lots and lots of women attract men. Men with thick wallets. But it’s not as simple as the beautiful get in and the not so beautiful wait outside. I can’t have a line of unattractive people going down the block. So, I pick and choose, working the list: the high rollers, the attractive, the important, the powerful…and I’ve ended up with a pretty fucking impressive contact list. But I know less than ten percent of them. And that just fuels my shitty day. It makes me realize that even now that I’ve finally made something of myself, I’m still alone. Nothing’s really changed. Maybe my father was right. Maybe I really am a loser.

  And then I get to the L’s. Lola. Her name looks like a beacon in my phone full of unknowns. And it’s such a pretty name and so easy to read. Just one more thing I like about her. I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to ask her out again. This time I know she’s not going to say no. Not after all the touching and verbal foreplay a few nights ago.

  I need to get a photo of her so that I can attach it to her contact info but I can’t be the weird guy who takes sneaky pictures of girls.

  Can I just call her and ask her for her photo? Would that be weird? I dial her phone number but it goes straight to voicemail, so then I text, even though I hate texting because it always takes me what feels like an eternity to compose a text.

  Can I have a photo of you?

  I sit back, drinking more vodka while I stare at my phone like a needy little bitch. Which is more or less how I’m feeling right now. Needy. I’ll never admit it, but I am.

  A moment later my phone chimes, and I slowly read her reply. Who’s this?

  Well, talk about blows to the ego. How does she not know my number? My self-esteem takes a huge nosedive. I type out ten different things—trying to be funny and witty. I delete all of them and type: Fox.

  Almost immediately she answers, Oh. Hi.

  Followed up with: Why do you want a photo of me? That’s weird.

  Yeah, it is weird. Okay, maybe I didn’t think this through. I should not drink and text. Never mind.

  I see the three little dots for a few long moments and it’s driving me crazy. Then finally: Okay?

  Shit. I know I’m being strange. I randomly ask her for a photo then I just say never mind without any reason. I run my palm over my face and let out a breath. No wonder she avoids me.

  Okay, let me try this again.

  What are you doing?

  I’m just getting off work.

  Work? Have I completely lost track of time? I look at the time on my phone and it’s early. Definitely way too early for this vodka bottle to be this low in fluid. Work? Club’s not open yet. I hope I haven’t misspelled anything.

  I work during the day at an animal clinic.

  During the day? Damn, she must have gotten home at five in the morning, and it’s now two in the afternoon. What time did you start?

  Eight.

  I’m surprised. Or impressed. Both.

  Let’s grab a burger before work, I text.

  I sit there staring at my phone, waiting for a reply. And waiting. And waiting. I don’t even see the little dots. Nothing. I didn’t imagine her insinuation the other night, did I? I was sure she would say yes. I shake my head irritably and toss the phone aside, taking another drink.

  A moment later I hear the chime and jump up, looking through the cushions for the phone. Where the hell did it go? And is the couch spinning a bit?

  Yes. Burgers sound great.

  I’m feeling ten feet tall. How does a woman who has barely said ten words to me in the months I’ve known her have the capacity to make my shitty days better and my good days great just by smiling at me? She is so intriguing and every little tiny crumb of information she drops on my lap—like the fact she has another job—makes me want to know more.

  What’s your address? Pick you up at seven, then we can go to work together.

  I can meet you. Just let me know where.

  Address, Lola. She’s so difficult, fighting me about everything. She prefers a dirty bus over a car ride with me? Yeah right. I’m picking her up even if I have to go through the employee roster to find her address.

  I wait, sipping my vodka which is so much better than downing it in gulps like I’ve been doing. I wait some more until finally she texts me her address.

  God, she doesn’t have any idea how she’s just made a dark day brighter. Maybe the worst day of the year will actually turn out to be a great day. Thank God I have a few hours before the date to sober up; I grab a bottle of water and start chugging.

  Lola

  I haven’t had a date in…I can’t even remember. I’m excited and nervous all at the same time.

  When you’re alone, orphaned, and poor, you have two choices. You die alone or you put on your big-girl panties and get your shit together. I chose to get my shit together. It wasn’t easy, but I did it and I will never look back. After Gus, I had a few catastrophic dates then I just gave up on men. This is the most effort I’ve put in in a long time and I’m nervous as hell.

  Fox seems to be into his looks and sort of self-absorbed, always fussing with his hair and tie and his impeccable suits, but I shouldn’t judge him without getting to know him. Maybe he’s just trying to portray a certain image at work. He is, after all, the face of the club. And he hasn’t been anything but nice to me.

  And hot.

  And available.

  An
d relentless.

  Last night was a long night at the club followed by a long day at the clinic. My days and nights are starting to blend into one another, but for Fox, for a date, for the possibility of sex, I’m going to suck it up. I brew some strong coffee, then hit the shower to get ready.

  I’m wearing a short black romper, one that I can wear to Panic later on. It’s a little sexier than what I’d normally wear to work at the club, but I’ve seen what the other bartenders wear and this is still a lot tamer. Maybe it will help get me more tips and turn Fox on. Two birds…

  The shorts part of the romper are short and the top is loose but with a cowl-neck that exposes the tops of my small(ish) breasts, which I’ve pushed up with a bra. I apply my makeup a little heavier than normal and tease my hair a bit. I look in the mirror and feel sexy. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way, and I’m suddenly really excited about this date. I’ve been so focused on saving money and surviving that I haven’t done anything for myself in a long time.

  Maybe I’ll seduce him enough for him to overlook all the baggage I carry.

  It’s almost seven, so I sit, take a breath, try to relax, and wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  I reread the text. Twice. No, I’m not crazy. He did say seven. My leg bobs up and down and I reapply my lipstick three times before I realize the asshole isn’t going to show up.

  New hot boss! Helen sends a group text, which distracts me for a second. She’s always sending group texts and I don’t comment often but since we all had breakfast together a few days ago, I’ve been trying to open up a little with the group.

  Who? What? I text back, and suddenly I’m bombarded by texts from three other girls from work.

  His name is Iggy. Apparently he’s a silent partner or something, Helen explains, followed by more replies in the form of different emojis.

  Are you already at work? I ask.