“Jealousy is the thief of joy, Albita.”
That got me another laugh. “Fuck you.”
I smiled at the lack of heat in her cursing me out. “One of the other yeses is from an anonymous account,” I said, wondering who it could be. “Kind of creepy, but at least I’ll be in a public place in case I accidentally invited a serial killer.”
“You’re so damn extra, Julia del Mar.”
“Hmmm.” I grunted as I took a closer look at the profile of my last RSVP. “The latest one is from like ten minutes ago and there’s a pic, but no name. Just the letter Q.”
“Oooh.” Alba was having too much fucking fun at my expense.
I clicked on the circle to get a better look, and...“Oh shit.”
It was just a photo of a man’s back from the waist up. He had his hands on his hips, which made all of his back muscles stand out. This was literal flexin’, but holy fuck, what had me panting was the ink on his back.
“Albita, someone has got to be trolling me,” I said, as I took a screenshot of the photo and DM’d it to my friend. “Look at your DMs.”
I heard a groan a couple seconds later. “Damn he didn’t have to go that hard, but I appreciate his efforts. That thing is all the way up his back. If this dude is real, you’re going to owe me big for nagging you to do this.”
I made some kind of sound of agreement and stared some more at the photo. The guy had the entire Manhattan skyline done in black along his spine. It started at the dip of his ass and went right up to his nape. It was beautiful art and on that big muscular back, fuuuuuck. He was apparently a Mets fan too. If that fitted he was wearing was any indication.
Maybe he was a fellow Queens native? I couldn’t even.
Q had me feeling some feelings in my nether regions. I was squirming around in my chair like my ass was on fire just from seeing this guy’s back. Which reminded me of one of the most urgent items on my to-do list.
“I need to get laid,” I lamented to my bestie, who concurred with a friendly grunt. “Masturbation, as useful as it’s been, is not going to cut it much longer.”
And, of course, Alba had to get all slimy. “And Mr. New York would do just fine. ‘Fine’ being the operative word—”
I cut off that very detrimental line of thinking before it could take root. The last thing I needed was to start work drama. “This meetup is not for me to find someone to fuck with, Alba. I need friends, and relationships are off-limits entirely.”
Alba sucked her teeth but when she spoke, she agreed with me. Kind of. “Did I say ‘relationships’? No, we were talking about fucking. But you’re right, you don’t need to rush into things, friend. This is your time.”
After things fell apart with Matt, I vowed I’d give myself time to get my life back on track, and that meant no dudes complicating things with their issues. I was done with letting men derail my plans. Q and his back would have to be someone else’s problem. No more distractions in sexy packages.
I turned off my laptop and spoke into the phone, already grabbing my purse. “Albita, Imma have to let you go. I have to do something with my hair and face before I hit up this bar, now that the stakes have been raised. Not that I’m doing anything about it. Q can get it, but not from me.”
“Okay, girl, I don’t know who you’re trying to convince.” She lived to push my buttons. I sighed and she blew me a kiss. “Call me when you get home.”
I gave her a tired yes and headed to the bathroom, feeling slightly better about my happy hour plans. At least it seemed like there were some fellow ex-New Yorkers at Sturm’s looking for friends too.
Chapter Four
Julia
I was a ball of nerves as I sat waiting for the rest of the group to show up.
After debating for a few minutes, I’d finally caved and changed into the outfit I’d brought from home. I’d even managed to get my hair to behave and was wearing it down, or more like up and out, since my curls were all over the place.
No matter how much I griped at my mom when I was growing for getting on my case about looking “decent” when I left the house, I had to say some of it had stuck with me. Being the child of an ex-beauty queen had its challenges, and was definitely a big reason for my weekly therapy sessions. But I was grateful to my mother for showing me how to do a smoky eye one-handed and to put together an outfit like a fucking pro. And so far the extra application of deodorant was holding up to all the nervous sweating that was happening. Hashtag “winning.” I knew my OOTD was popping. I was wearing a white crop top with a bomb Ankara skirt one of the buyers from Sturm’s had hooked me up with. And I could not deny that when I stepped out looking like I was killing it, it went a long way to making me feel like I could.
I checked on my skirt and smoothed over the front, trying hard not to stare up at the clock. So what if people didn’t show up? I could still have a nice dinner...by myself. I’d picked a place in Greenville—which I’d dubbed Brooklyn in Dallas—closer to where I lived and I knew a few others lived as well. The place was decorated in what I’d started calling Southern Hipster: a lot of distressed wood, mason jars, and rusted-looking metal, but the ambiance was great and the drinks were cheap. I took another small sip of my Paloma in an effort to pace my drinking so I really didn’t act a fool at this thing. The last thing I wanted was to be drunk by the time my coworkers arrived.
Which only got me thinking about Rocco Fucking Quinn. The bane of my existence. Why did he have to be so sexy? I’d sent him a preliminary plan but he hadn’t responded yet. Just thinking about entire days in confined places with that man made me practically vibrate with anticipation, and not the kind that was appropriate for work-related situations. I turned in my seat, mulling over how I’d make it through meeting after meeting with him, and decided I’d just keep my distance. I was a grown woman, a professional. And just because the line of Rocco Quinn’s jaw was so perfect I could stare at it for days didn’t mean I couldn’t keep it together.
And as if the universe had penciled in extra time to fuck with my life, Q walked in.
He was looking down at his phone but I recognized the Mets hat from the profile picture. And that chest and those shoulders were imprinted in my thirsty little brain. Shoulders that I was pretty sure were recently covered by a suit jacket and green and gray gingham shirt.
My stomach dropped.
Q was Rocco Fucking Quinn.
How did he even find out about the happy hour?
Drops of sweat were pooling at the small of my back as panic tried to take over. But panic was not the host of this meetup, Julia was. I took three belly breaths and focused on the ground under my feet as I unclenched my hand from the glass before I snapped it. I pasted on a smile as I decided whether to stay in my seat or stand up to meet him.
He looked post-gym fresh in jeans, a light gray tee, and leather flip-flops, and I was close to seeing black dots from holding my breath. I’d never really noticed forearms, but I was literally drooling over his. Had he gotten a haircut in the two hours since I’d seen him or was I just tripping? He had on some wayfarers that he took off as he popped his head up. I raised a hand and waved frantically because I was a straight-up mess. When he spotted me, he did the slightest double take and then, just for a second, he smiled.
Julia del Mar, you’re in danger, girl.
Holy shit, my heart actually slammed against my chest just from getting the full effect of those piercing blue eyes and the little scar that stretched across the top of his lip. Rocco had that lethal combination of boyish good looks and a slight edge. Like he could mow my lawn for me and then walk into the house and do unspeakable things to my body. And good Lord that was not the reel I needed going through my head right now.
Get a fucking grip, Julia. I squeezed my thighs hard and tried to snap out of the trance I was in. I took one breath, then a second, trying to slow down my heart, as I watched hi
m come closer, and that’s when I noticed I wasn’t the only one getting a little hot under the collar. Rocco Quinn had me pinned under his gaze and was taking his sweet time running his eyes over me. I was trying to keep it all business, but if he was going to look at me like that, I’d give him angles.
Oh yeah, take it all in, buddy.
When he got to me, I saw that the smile had gotten a little less confident and I wondered if the intense pull I was feeling was getting to him too. Before I lost my nerve, I extended a hand to him and he immediately took it. I was not one to get corny, but I could swear I felt the air sizzle. He was so fine, and the way he looked at me...there was a lot of heat there, the kind that could reduce your self-control to cinders and make you like it.
“Hey, you’re the first one here.”
What happened next was when I knew that Rocco was going to be a very big monkey wrench in my short-, medium-, and long-term plans of staying off the D and focusing on me.
He blushed.
Sheepish and a little embarrassed, and stuffing both hands in his pockets, and my self-restraint buckled under the devastating effects of this man’s shy smile. “I’m not great with directions and I didn’t want to risk getting lost.” Precious was really not the kind of energy I was expecting. I was all out of sorts, like experiencing legitimate mental whiplash.
The effect Rocco was having on me usually resulted in bad decisions. Like moving across the country for a guy who dumped me after just a few weeks. Those blue eyes could wreck my damn life.
“Hopefully more people will be here soon.” That came out with a little more of an edge than I necessarily wanted, but I had to try and at least fake like he wasn’t completely unsettling me.
Before he got a chance to say anything, I pointed at my glass. “Why don’t you get yourself a drink?” My friendly tone had shifted to something much sharper, which certainly could not help matters. He angled his head at my words, brow furrowed, like I’d switched to another language.
“Uh, the bar is over there.” Okay, now I sounded straight-up rude.
“Sure, I’ll go get something.” That warm smile had definitely slid off his face as he walked off. Way to go, Julia, offend the guy that could take your fucking job. But what was a person supposed to do when faced with eyes like that? And I wasn’t going to lie, knowing what was under that gray T-shirt was having a real adverse effect on me.
I was about to sit down again and regroup when I saw a woman walk in who looked like Salome, the only other lady who’d RSVP’d for the evening. When she looked in my direction, I waved and her face lit up with a smile as she made her way to the table.
She was dressed in cutoffs and a black tank top. Her hair was shaved on the bottom, but she had it a little longer on top. Her skin was a very dark brown and she had big hazel eyes. She had tattoo sleeves on both her arms too. She could have just stepped off a street in Williamsburg. As she extended her hand to me, all I could think was, “Please don’t be an asshole.”
“Hey, I’m Salome. I cannot tell you how happy I was when Alba told me about your meetup. I need some friends!” Her laugh was big and throaty, and it sounded so familiar, so much like home, that I almost wanted to cry.
Salome was not a Sturm’s employee, but like me she was Dominican and recently relocated to the Dallas area. Alba knew her from Columbia and had been trying to connect us for months. I was so glad to finally meet her and a relief to have a buffer between me and Rocco. “I’m so glad you could make it. I was also reaching worrisome lows in my social life.” I pointed at her arms. “I love your art, by the way.”
She extended them so I could get a better look. “Thanks. These were my way of coping with grad school. I got one after every semester for the entire six years of my PhD. I was glad not to have a seventh, because I was running out of room.” Salome somehow managed to look disgruntled and grin at the same time, and I liked her instantly. “I’m not sure if the Public Policy Department at Northern Texas University could’ve dealt with a Dominican, queer professor with neck tattoos. No matter how hard up they were for some diversity.” We both laughed at that even though I was sure she was not lying.
“There’s another person here already.” I pointed at Rocco, who was glaring at the wall as he waited for his drink. “That’s Rocco.”
She looked at him appreciatively. And I ruthlessly stamped out the stupid pang of possessiveness that pulsed through me. None of that was mine, and it never would be.
“If you want to go grab a drink, go for it. We’re still waiting for a few more people from where I work.” Just as I said that, two more guys walked in. One I recognized as José Miguel, one of the web designers for Sturm’s who did a lot of the foundation’s website stuff. The other guy I thought I’d seen around the office, but could not place.
José was a lot shorter than the other guy, who had a pretty intense Wakanda warrior flow going on. José’s pretty face beamed as he came up to us. He was all warm-weather chic in seersucker shorts and a bright pink short-sleeve shirt with silver leather Vans. The other guy had a fresh fade, and light brown eyes ringed by the longest lashes I’d ever seen. He was decked out in a Bronx Forever T-shirt, some jeans and some red-and-black retro Jordans on his feet. Even if I hadn’t known it, I would’ve pegged both of them for New Yorkers.
I had found my peoples.
I was so excited at this point I actually jumped up and down when they made it to the table. “Hey, José.”
He came closer to give me a kiss on the cheek and gestured toward his companion, who was looking at Rocco with an amused smile.
“Tariq is one of the consultants on the IPO project. I met him the other day when he was working with the finance department.” José was giving Tariq very thorough looks, and by the way the younger man preened, it didn’t seem like he was too mad about it.
“Nice to meet you, Tariq.” Oh man, that smile could knock a person on their ass. No wonder José was practically swooning.
“Sorry we crashed your party.” He pointed at Rocco, who had spotted him and started walking over with a pint glass in his hand. “My boy Dani is doing his thing outside getting some pictures to post on Insta, but he’ll be here soon.”
I smiled, waving a hand toward the bar. “That’s fine. We can just hang a bit until he gets here. Let me introduce you.”
José Miguel pointed at my skirt. “I am living for this. Where did you get it?” This friendship already had potential for greatness.
“One of the buyers at Sturm’s has a hookup in Brooklyn and she had a few extras from her last trip.” We all sighed at the mention of our city.
Rocco stood by the rest of the group, not really talking, and I could tell Tariq was trying to deliver a message with his eyes that was not coming across at all. But thankfully before things could get weirder, Dani walked into the bar, his big personality automatically filling up the place.
He looked at our group and smiled, and I totally knew the feeling. His face said, “There are the New Yorkers.” As always he was dressed like he was coming from a fashion shoot, the light blue Cuban guayabera and white linen shorts a striking contrast to his brown skin. Dani had that “it” factor and he knew it too. He was bona fide influencer with almost a million followers and he never missed a chance to showcase that drip. Still he was down-to-earth and funny, so I was glad he could make it.
“Hey, Julia. Sorry I’m late.” He looked at me with a bright smile and extended his hand, but I pulled him in for a kiss on the cheek.
“You’re fine, thanks for coming.”
I made the introduction to Salome and Dani gave dap to Tariq, Rocco, and José, immediately falling into an easy chat. I let myself bask in the glory of being surrounded by people I already felt connected to.
“There’s only one person who hasn’t arrived yet, but since most of us are here, let’s sit and get to know each other. Does that sound good?”<
br />
We all sat down around the table. Everyone seemed pretty relaxed, other than Rocco, who was still looking ill at ease. I felt guilty for making him feel unwelcome, but then reminded myself that keeping things chill with Rocco was not just smart, it was basic self-preservation.
I clapped my hands and straightened my shoulders as I looked at the group. I already had a great feeling about this. If I’d set out to handpick a group of people to hang out with, it would look very much like this, and no, Rocco would not be cast as my boyfriend.
With all eyes on me, I went in with my usual “jump feet first” enthusiasm. “I spend a lot of time running support groups and I believe in icebreakers.” There were some groans and José Miguel and Tariq looked like they were ready to call it a night, but since no one left, I carried on.
I chuckled as I made “simmer down” hands. “I thought you guys would hate it, but just say what part of the city you’re from, lived most recently, or where you’re still based if you’re just here temporarily,” I said, in deference to Rocco and Tariq. “Whichever you prefer...oh!” I help a finger up in the air, like the cornball I was. “And one thing you don’t miss about New York.” Salome perked up at that but didn’t talk, so I volunteered myself. “I can go first. I grew up in Corona but for the past five years I lived in East Harlem. One thing I don’t miss about the city is the six train during rush hour.”
That got me some laughs.
José Miguel raised his hand and leaned in to answer. “I grew up in the South Bronx, and I lived in Chelsea—”
He stopped talking then, his pretty face suddenly marred with what looked like grief, but after a few seconds he regrouped and went on. “I lived in Chelsea for thirteen years, until I relocated here about nine months ago.” He tried hard for a smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Julia, I’m going to steal your answer. I definitely don’t miss the subway during rush hour!” We all smiled, but the whole group seemed to detect the sadness in his words. I looked at José for another second, wondering what was the story behind his move to Dallas.
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