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sartorialatlantan · 4 years

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Silver Lining and A Brief Backstory

Whether you’re an optimist or not, anyone, even if only in hindsight, can see the silver lining of a bad situation, circumstance or series of events. When I was 20 years old I ended a three-year relationship with my first serious girlfriend. We had met at 17 or so and it was your classic teenage love story. We were young and foolish and led by a shared faith in evangelical Christianity that I would eventually and happily abandon. We had convinced each other and ourselves that it was ordained by god that we came together and that when the time was right we would get married. To add insult to injury we told nearly everyone we knew about our plans at all of 18 years old, so naturally the sting of embarrassment came with the sting of separation. I don’t need to, nor do I care to go into details of our breakup or what brought it about, but this tiny bit of back-story is crucial to understand the silver lining that would follow. Now that I’m saying it out loud, to call what followed a silver lining doesn’t even really cut the mustard, what followed was the absolute best thing that’s ever happened to me.

It’s safe to assume that anyone reading this has been through a breakup, maybe even safe to assume a bad one or two. We all know how down in the dumps, miserable and depressed and isolated and totally alone you feel when you separate from someone you were literally saying, “I love you” to not one day ago. It’s an awful place to be, whether you’re 20 or 35 or 50 etc. it’s just plain awful. And I imagine it’s existentially worse the older you get because of the looming fear that you’ll be too old to meet someone else before the clock stops. While that may be true at 78, the irrational brain of an 18 or 20 year old will tell them the same thing. So in the wake of my adolescent breakup I drank, a lot. I took up smoking and heavy drinking and gave up on the idea of partnering with someone ever again. Some of this ridiculous thinking goes back to the Christian thing, and apologies now if you take offense so some of what I say about that faith. When you’re 20, and for the last 3-4 to years you not only thought, but believed at your bible thumping core that you were paired with someone else by gods own hand and it ends, well to put it plainly you A. start doubting that there even is a god or B. find it impossible to understand why god would start something and end it. Now in hindsight, it’s really a mixture of A and B and I also now realize that if god is real, his most famous creation to date (us) has a beginning and an ending. It’s also very easy to religiously rationalize everything to fit your made up narrative, kind of like biblically cherry picking in reverse.

I’m not going to go into my exiting the church and Christian faith altogether, that would be too far removed from the topic at hand, but I will say that when I left it, and truly let go of it mentally, it was the most calming and freeing feeling I had had at that point. All it took was squarely asking myself, practically in a mirror, “do your really believe in this, do you REALLY believe in ANY of this?” When I answered “no” I felt a combination of grief and relief; on the one hand I was letting go of what had been the norm to that point and on the other I was free from what rabbi’s refer too as “a wrestling match with god”, and that freedom felt better than any made-up wave of holy spirit baptism ever had. Bottom line, if you’re an evangelical and truly believe that you have a private, gibberish love language with god, don’t mock what the Mormons believe, it’s just as ridiculous. I knew too many Christians in those days who couldn’t see that irony. Some still can’t.

Now back to the story. There I was broken hearted and feeling like life was over at 20, it was time to grow a beard and become a wandering nomad. Maybe I’ll get a motorcycle and seek out an outlaw gang and just ride til' I die. Maybe I’ll head up the east coast and get a job on a boat out of New England. Really all of my ideas involved my look first, and occupation second. Anything involving hand tattoos and a long matted beard would’ve sufficed. But then, some time passed and I would eventually turn 21, which opened up a whole new world, the bar scene. Now, still in the throws of depression, single and not loving it, I proceeded to the bar scene with a new drinking friend named Will in the East Atlanta Village. We drank and socialized all over the village, almost every night too, to excess. We were not, living, laughing or loving as the girls touting faux happiness, post break-up say in their Facebook statuses. There was the Graveyard Tavern, a very large dive bar with something akin to a dance floor and a pool table area. Then the Glenwood that at the time had a horror/cult movie theme down to movie posters laminated under the tabletops. There was My Sisters Room and Mary’s, a lesbian bar and gay bar, separated by a side street and Grant Park Pizza. Then you came to the 5 Spot, which was a dive bar and punk music venue, then across the street from there was the Flatiron, which was the shape you’re picturing. It sat below 13 Roses Tattoo, which for that era in my opinion was the best shop in town. If you took a hard left from there you could walk up to The Earl, a dive bar with pretty damn good food and a solid standing room only music venue in back. And lastly across from there was The East Side Lounge, the perfect spot if you wanted to do cocaine while watching Predator 2 on the TV over the bar. I never did cocaine, but everyone in town knew that’s where you went to score some, or to watch Predator 2 while drinking $2 PBR on draught.

This little village was our spot for nearly a full calendar year, Will and I rarely took anyone else along, because no on else was as equally miserable as us and who needs positive company when you’re binging cheap beer pitchers and smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in one night? Now, to be clear, it was always to the two of us but we were making the attempt, occasionally, to meet women. 20 something, tattooed, smoking, drinking, most likely cocaine doing, women who were 100% not interested; we were suburb boys and you could practically smell it on us, and these were city chicks, with sleeve tattoos, hidden piercings and a palpable hate for their fathers. Maybe I’m adding that last part for effect, but you get the idea. Now that said, in that time span I did manage to meet and get to know a girl or two, I think Will did too but nothing ever really stuck.

Now I’m going to back up, but keep in mind this was all happening by night, most nights of the week, but by day I was still working at the same place I am now, didn’t love it then still not crazy about it today, but that’s a whole other topic. Some days after work, before Will and I would venture to East Atlanta I would go meet up with this piano player I had been introduced to by a former band mate who needed a guitar player capable of on-the-fly melodic riffs to accent his songs. In the band I had been in before, that was literally all I did, so we were a good fit. He would play his latest song for me a few times through headphones and then I’d start “noodling” as they say until I landed on some solid melodic hooks to overlay on what he had already recorded. We had a solid system, and he paid me in pizza and beer and we could smoke cigarettes in the studio. Just for a brief tangent, you have to smoke inside in these situations. If you and your fellow musicians are trying to accomplish something in the studio, but you’re walking outside every 20 minutes to have a dart you’ll never get anything done. So I would listen and noodle and drink and smoke and eventually eat. Once I tapped into a riff he liked we’d build on it together, shape it, shorten it, lengthen it, whatever it needed, then we’d lay it down and repeat. This was a regular thing for me a couple times a week. It went like this, get up, go to work, leave, go home grab my gear, head to the garage studio, record, smoke, eat, drink, leave, drop off the gear, grab Will, and be in the Village by 10pm or so. Then we’d stay til' last call, go home, shower, sleep, wake up, repeat. If you’re doing the math, yes I was driving most of the time, it was stupid and reckless and I’m not proud of it and it was over a decade ago lets just leave it at that and drop it. There’s no one to make amends to for anything from those days, other than a few girls that I probably drunkenly intimidated buy hitting on them too much. Anyways, this was the pattern for the better part of 20 to 21. Now, cut back to my Jesus-y girlfriend from the beginning of the story. To the best of my knowledge she was off in a new circle of friends, living and laughing and loving and meeting new people and I knew for a fact she was dating around. Through this new circle of friends she would eventually meet Kristen, and if you know me, then you know my wife’s name is Kristen, yes the very same Kristen. Kristen was 26 at the time, recently divorced from a total dipshit, we’ll leave it at that, and she too was socializing with a new circle of friends.

To help you keep up with the wild web of who begat who, at this point in time, if I hadn’t separated with my girlfriend when I did a year prior, she wouldn’t have started dating who she did and met the string of people who would eventually introduce her to Kristen, my wife today. Now, for her privacy I won’t name my high school girlfriend so for the story we’ll call her Jane. Jane and Kristen and a large circle of churchy band kids all became friends, though only briefly. Kristen being newly single was introduced to some guys via this circle and Jane specifically introduced her to guy named Steven, possibly to date, though I don’t think they ever did. That said, Kristen and Steven formed a friendship and Kristen soon after parted ways with Jane and the churchy band kids because they were all just A. a little too Jesus-y and B. more than immature to say the least. Now I was peripherally aware of a lot of this via Facebook, doing the creepy ex thing. I didn’t know Kristen, but I had seen her in some photos and she had a killer Audrey Hepburn ribcage tattoo, still does obviously.

So, Kristen and Steven are friendly and attend some of the same bars and house parties and she’s out in the world dating and doing her thing. Kristen would eventually meet Steven’s newest girlfriend, Amy. Amy and Kristen became fast friends and were practically joined at the hip. Kristen and Amy were partying, dive bar hopping, nightclub dancing best friends. Meanwhile, just to take you back to my reality at the same time, I was grumpy binge drinking with Will somewhere in the East Atlanta Village. Now, here’s where it gets fun. Amy has a brother named Chad, who at that time was in a band, Chad worked at a little café/bar with a certain piano player, yes, you guessed it, the one I was working with that year. Now through this maze of people Kristen would eventually meet the same piano player and it would be an understatment to say she was into him. One night I’m in the studio with him and we’re sort of half working, half chatting and he starts telling me about this girl he’s kind of seeing and her Audrey Hepburn tattoo. It was one of those small world funny moments, because I knew who he was talking about from my Facebook stalking, and I knew she was hot, no naturally I was envious. Some time later, he would invite me and Will and Kristen and Amy to watch a band play at the previously mentioned Earl in the East Atlanta Village, I knew it well. This is where I would meet Kristen and where our relationship would ultimately begin. I could write another 6 dozen paragraphs on our early dating relationship and how it all went and maybe I will at some point, but the point of this very long-winded essay is about the silver linings of a bad situation. Now to call this love story and how I would eventually meet my wife that I would have two beautiful and amazing daughters with a silver lining to a high school breakup would be borderline insulting. But realize, at 21, now nearly 22, I was still miserable and alone and thought I would be forever. Then along comes Kristen. Now to recap, I split with Jane, became a miserable person while Kristen was divorcing her first husband from college that she really only married to piss off her parents. Kristen would eventually meet Jane, who would introduce her to Steven, who introduced her to Amy who introduced her to the piano player, who she was infatuated with for a brief moment, who introduced her to me. We’re separated by 6 years in terms of age, come from completely different backgrounds and other than this small cluster of people, had no one in common between us. In a very long-winded, round about way, I owe my heartbreaking high school girlfriend a thank you. I had to experience a terrible breakup, the kind where you don’t ever talk again, go through a shitty, drunken, depressing year and ultimately give up on having any semblance of a happy life to meet my wife, and everything changed after that. I didn’t go to college, I had a small circle of friends and most of them avoided the city. It took this wild culmination of events and people I’ve never met to bring Kristen and I together.

You might be saying that story’s not all that compelling, things like that happen all the time, and you’re not entirely wrong, but that said, I still think there’s something special about it.

The year 2020 has shown me a lot about myself. Once quarantine started I quickly learned how unimportant clothes were. Take a moment to catch your breath. I still love tailoring and will absolutely wear dress clothes again, but when you’re staring down a pandemic, drape and tie space just become less of a concern and are quickly replaced with stocking up of frozen goods and day drinking. I’ve spent the majority of 2020 in Vans and golf polo’s, and I don’t hate it. In this time I’ve found a new passion for the game of golf, I’ve cooked new things, in the early days of lock down I got creative with my photography in ways that wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been home all day. I don’t think any of us knows when this nonsense will be over, 2020 might be entirely wrapped in Covid and it might even bleed into 2021, and by then, most of the world might’ve had it. I know that I don’t want it, and if I am to get it I hope to the god I don’t believe in that it’s mild.

When your 6 year old asks if you’re going to be alive when they’re a grown up in the middle of a pandemic it stings, because the reality is I can’t promise her I’ll be alive tomorrow, let alone 20 years from now, so I lie. And when you lie like that to a child you lie big, I tell her I’ll always be alive, that way we snuff out all worry in her little 6-year-old mind, because those wheels are constantly turning. I was burdened with the reality of death at 4 years old, seeing my 19-year-old cousin dead in a coffin after a motorcycle accident. I will shield the reality of death from my kids as long as possible. Life’s stressful enough already, no reason to start the trauma early. I blame that funeral at 4 almost entirely on my hypochondria. I’m that guy, who feels a leg pain and assumes it’s a blood clot bound for my heart. A pain or weird feeling in my side must be cancer. Naturally the rise of Covid has not been kind to this sick part of my brain. As I write I feel funny, the way you feel when you sleep too long and your limbs feel numb, I’m also hoarse from over doing it with a vaporizer recently trying to relax with a little THC. So naturally the weird feelings and throat tickle are Covid in my mind. If you don’t have anxiety, count yourself lucky.

The thing I keep trying to remind myself of is that it won’t last forever. Time literally fixes everything. It took time to get over being broken up with at 20 and even more time for the stars to align and bring Kristen and I together. It will take time for Covid to sweep the world and end and time further still for the powers that be to develop a safe vaccine. It will take time for society to feel comfortable going out mask-less again; it will take time for supermarkets to feel safe enough to take down all the plexi-glass at the checkout. It will all take time and in the end, if we’re lucky, we’ll see the silver linings that came out of it. New interests, new jobs, new relationships, etc. If I hadn’t found my passion for menswear I would not have eventually reignited my passion for photography. If the quarantine hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have done all the self-portraits I did that ultimately inspired a Hunter S. Thompson theme that lead to my newfound love and interest in golf. The new interest in golf led to new ways to spend time and bond with my in laws and my own family. It’s also the first form of physical activity I’ve done in nearly a decade; all good things.

The only thing I’ve never really been able to draw a connect-the-dots of positively around is my job. I’ve done the same thing for 13 years and I’ve never liked it. It has afforded me the opportunity to do things at times, and the schedule has always been flexible around my personally needs, but I’ve never really liked being here. As I write I’m sitting in an office that I’d rather not be in. If I were single and not a parent I would've left long ago. But the stability of this place and the paycheck keep me here. I’d much rather be taking photos for brands, submitting to publications etc. but there’s way to much financial risk in that. The time for that kind of seat-of-your-pants living is in your 20’s, when you’re a renter with no kids. If I could take photos, write, travel, golf, eat and drink for a living you‘d never hear a complaint. Kristen and I often talk about what we’d do with millions to distract ourselves from what we don’t have, and the stress of the day. She works in a very unforgiving retail environment, more unforgiving now with a pandemic on the rise again in our state. I work in print, for my father. A dying industry with a parent as my superior, what could possibly go wrong? We get along 9 days out of 10, but day 10 is always noteworthy. We bend over backwards for our customers, though I don’ think they care. We once had a 20 years long client say they were thinking about switching to another printer, just to shake things up. This after 20 years of late shifts, miracle timing and total and complete ass kissing. That day I learned, that quality service only matters to a select few, the rest just want to see the bill.

So that’s 2020 so far, new interests popping up, old interests taking a back seat, looking to the past to see the greatness that came out of dark times, hoping the future is as bright as today is, compared to the depths of despair I found myself in at 20. Still thinking there is no god but hopeful for an afterlife of some kind, wondering if there is a god why he’s letting old people who literally hang his picture in their dining rooms suffocate from a wet market virus that our leadership dubbed a hoax in the beginning…I will not go on a political tangent... By the time 2020 wraps I hope to be alive and well, I hope that everyone I know is alive and well too. I hope that Kristen finally lands herself a job in UX, she graduated from her UX academy in March and so naturally the job market has been slim pickings. Beyond that, I hope to find myself doing something other than what I do now at some point. When I dwell for too long about how many hours of my life I’ve spent folding booklets for people who are ultimately going to throw them away I feel myself reaching for the bottle. Bottom line, things aren’t great now, but I hope they get better. The funny thing about that is, according to Buddhists, it’s the act of wanting something, which causes suffering in the first place. So maybe the answer for the shit storm we’re all in today lie’s in the Buddhist teachings. I’m not about to proselytize Buddhism, but what I do know is the first truth as they call it is basically, that “suffering exists” and the second truth is that “desires and ignorance cause the suffering”. So it could be a major over simplification for our current state of affairs, but maybe if we stop wanting a better today and just accept today for what it is, we’ll all suffer a little less. Because whether we’re here for it or not, the sun will rise again and set again. The earth will turn and everything that is happening today will happen again tomorrow. Time fixes everything, and we can’t control it. So pray, meditate, work, golf or buy a motorcycle and head to the nearest New England port and join a boat crew, there’s no telling what kind of crazy we’re all going to wake up to from one day to the next, so to end on a cliché, make the most of today and try focus on the positive, maybe the stars will align and when it all shakes loose, you’ll meet your Kristen.

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storiesbycheyenne · 5 years

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Wrote a little something...

“That’s not quite the angle. Turn a little to the right.”

My hip throbbed and my lower back was starting to kill me. The outcome I planned for the night wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Okay, ow! That’s definitely not it!”

Pushing him off, I furiously searched around his room for my clothes. Bra on lamp. Check. Panties beside bed. Check. Dress with now broken zipper. Check.

“Can’t we at least try it another time?” he said.

Oh wasn’t he cute? So motivated. I give him credit for that.

“No, I don’t really give ‘do-overs’.” I slipped into my heels that I found beside the front door. “I’m sorry.”

When I got outside of the guy’s apartment building I was unsure of where I was. It’s been a month since I moved to the city, so I wasn’t familiar with my surroundings yet. I checked my phone for my location which located me in Upper East Side meaning I was about thirty minutes away from home.

Even though the sun was finally set, it didn’t seem to slow the people down from getting to where they wanted to go. It was a Saturday night when people were just starting their fun unlike me when I was just ending it.

I continued to walk down the sidewalk mainly following the smells of different foods coming from the various restaurants that lined the street ahead. Maybe if I just keep walking in this general direction I’ll eventually find my way home?

After a couple blocks, a small dive bar caught my attention with their red flashing neon sign: The Avenue.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a rest and collect my thoughts after the bad hookup I had moments ago. Alcohol would probably help wipe it out of my mind faster.

The space was dimly lit with a wooden bar counter taking up half of the right side and to the left there were three pool tables with a couple wooden tables and chairs. The smell of stale cigarettes and beer greeted me as I walked through.

An older man with a long beard manned the bar, sizing me up as I approached. “What ya want?” he asked with a thick Italian accent that caught me off guard.

“Vodka and cranberry,” I said taking a seat.

I took another look around and noticed the space wasn’t crowded for a Saturday night. The clientele seemed to be older men and women who just wanted a relaxing night out with their lovers.

“Alright, Aiden, I was wondering when you would show up,” the bartender spoke to a man that just entered the bar. “Vinny’s been wondering about the rematch.”

“Tell him it’ll happen soon,” the man said. His voice was smooth like velvet, which was very appealing, forcing me to sneak a quick glance in his direction by the door.

The bartender handed a short glass filled with amber liquid to the handsome stranger. “The stage is all set if you wanted to do your thing.”

Aiden glanced in my direction probably curious to who I was. I was definitely out of place here. He didn’t say anything and finished his drink instead before heading to the stage. A few of the patrons sat at the tables getting ready to listen to the music.

His fingers effortlessly played the beginning chords of Dream On by Aerosmith, which got my attention. I always listened to this song in the car with my dad. We sang it on the top of our lungs like idiots as he played the air guitar.

Although, Aiden’s voice was different compared to Steven Tyler’s, he sang it like it was his own song. His voice was gravelly, but once he hit those high notes it was smooth.

The crowd applauded as the song came to its end and Aiden took a little bow as he went into playing another song. I wasn’t too familiar with it making me think it was probably an original. He sang this song with so much emotion it gave me goosebumps down my arms and I couldn’t look away.

“Miss, you want another drink?” The bartender asked as he waved a hand in front of my face.

I snapped out of my trance, apologizing.

He held up my empty glass. “So you want another one?”

“Uh...yes please.”

The bartender chuckled to himself like he knew it was Aiden’s fault for distracting me. He handed me another drink and went back to the other side of the bar and my attention went back to Aiden.

His set ended after the fourth song. The few people sitting at the tables applauded and whistled as he took another bow then hopped off stage. I turned away focusing on finishing my drink and acting like Aiden didn’t have my attention.

“I never saw you here before,” the man said. Aiden was right next to me this time making me jump slightly, which made him chuckle and grab my arm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

My cheeks turned pink once I turned to meet his gaze. Thank god for the dim lighting.

Aiden was more handsome up close. His hair was slightly curled and pushed back from his face which made his emerald eyes more prominent. His perfect full lips pulled into a smile.

“You’re a very pretty woman and I wouldn’t think to find someone that looks like you in a bar like this. So what happened that made you stumble in here?”

I cocked my head to the side gauging his question. He was a total stranger which meant I didn’t need to give him a reason. “What makes you think I stumbled in here?”

“You don’t look like a regular to me that’s all.” He lifted his left hand to get the bartender’s attention. Part of a tattoo caught my eye and it made me wonder if he had more under his shirt.

“I was just in the wrong part of the city and trying to find my way home, but I needed a drink or two.”

He smirked. “Rough night?”

“You could say that. I didn’t get the orgasm that I wanted or the lack thereof.” One side effect that I had after more than one drink. Word vomit. I didn’t know when to shut up. My eyes were focused on my half full glass and I was scared to see his reaction.

“I could help with that.”

I choked and my eyes went wide.

Yeah, I was definitely hearing things. A guy like him wouldn’t be that forward.

The bartender handed him a short glass that had a chip on the bottom. It was filled halfway with whiskey. Aiden took a sip of it then looked over at me. “Wow, I’m making you an offer on having a do-over and you’re not jumping at it.”

I shrugged. Did I really want to attempt to hookup with another guy again?

Aiden scooted his stool closer to mine. His left knee rested against my right as he hooked his arm around the back of my stool. He leaned in beside my ear as the music on the jukebox started to play. “I felt your eyes on me the whole entire time I was on that stage. I know you’re attracted to me because you’re breathing just hitched.”

Butterflies danced in my stomach. His proximity was distracting and my mind couldn’t stop imagining him pinning me against the nearest wall as he grinded against me.

The corners of my mouth pulled up slowly forming into a smile. His left thumb drew small circles on my forearm igniting my senses as his right hand caressed my right thigh.

I could feel his cool breath on my neck as he waited for an answer. “Or I could just buy you another drink if sex isn’t what you want anymore.” He pulled away slightly to empty his glass and asked for another one.

”Well, I guess I have to use the bathroom.” My right hand squeezed his thigh as I stood and headed toward the bathrooms.

I felt him right on my heels and I couldn’t wait to feel his skin against mine. I was sweating in anticipation.

Aiden stepped in front of me, pulling me into the women’s bathroom and pinned me against the tiled wall as he locked the door behind him. “Don’t want anybody walking in and seeing a show, would we?”

I grabbed his hips, pulling him closer to me as I kissed at his neck. He moaned as he pushed his head back more. My hands slid up his t-shirt feeling his muscles relax from my touch.

His t-shirt was pulled off and now laying in the sink. Tattoos were visible from his right hand and up to his shoulder.

“I think it’s my turn,” he said waking me out of my thoughts. He reached around and yanked my dress off considering the zipper was already broken.

His lips slowly skimmed across my skin down my neck and over my breasts as he squeezed at the material. I reached around undoing my bra allowing his hands to freely explore.

“Aiden, please,” I moaned. I wanted him now.

He stood and claimed my mouth, his tongue pressing against mine and he suddenly spun me around bending me over the sink. I heard him undo his fly on his jeans and then I felt him pushing into me, slow at first. I welcomed his movements by grinding against him aching for more contact.

“It’s better to go slow, love,” he said. “You feel it more.”

“Just a little harder, please.”

He kissed the back of my neck as he listened to my request. My fingers dug into the edge of the sink as he sank into me and moved faster and rougher than a moment ago.

His hands rubbed at my breasts as he fucked me throughly making me moan and grind against him, slowly reaching my climax. When he shifted his position inside me I came screaming forcing Aiden to cover my mouth with his hand which turned me on even more.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” I said as I slowly came down from my high.

Aiden pulled out then leaned against me placing kisses on the back of my neck and down my left shoulder. “How was that?”

Sighing, I smiled at him through the mirror then turned to hand him his t-shirt that laid in the sink. There was silence between us as we fixed ourselves in the mirror and I splashed cold water on my face.

“So what’s going to happen now?” he asked, leaning against the door.

I shrugged as I fixed my bangs in the mirror. “Left or right side?”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes at me, confused.

“My bangs, obviously. Left or right side?” I switched them side to side facing him.

He stepped closer and combed his fingers through my bangs adjusting them front and center. “I like them like this.”

We both felt something in that moment. Sort of like an electric shock just after you slide your feet against the carpeted floor and touch a metal door handle. It was quick and it hit me at all at once.

Someone jiggled the door handle from outside. “What the fuck?! Why is the bathroom locked?!”

The person was now banging on the door making us laugh.

“I think it’s time to go,” Aiden said then unlocked the door and allowed me to step out first. The woman stumbled around us muttering something under her breath as the bathroom door closed behind her.

A couple of guys standing around a pool table got Aiden’s attention and I returned to the bar alone. The bartender handed me my purse and I thanked him.

“You need a ride home?” He asked.

I gave him a nod and he called me a cab. Aiden didn’t come back over to say goodbye to me, so I decided to leave and wait out front for my cab.

A yellow taxi pulled along the curb and I slid in the back, sighing against the seat with a smile on my face. I definitely felt better than I did a couple hours ago.

“Where are you going?” The driver asked.

“Midtown...just drop me off at 54th street.”

My phone buzzed in my bag making me rifle through it and I found a bar napkin with someone’s handwriting scrawled across it. I answered my phone as I stared at the napkin in my hand. It was from Aiden.

“Where the hell are you?” My best friend asked through the phone.

“Hi to you too, Lee.”

“We were supposed to do dinner tonight, but you didn’t show,” he added. “I don’t even want to hear who you were doing.”

“What makes you think I hooked up with someone?”

“Because I can hear it in your voice...like you were preoccupied with something when I called.”

“Not anymore, I’m in a taxi heading home now. What time is it anyway?”

“It’s after ten o’clock.”

“Still want to come over and hear about it?”

“Of fucking course, I’ll be over in twenty with wine.”

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A/N: Thought I would share. Something I’ve been working on for a while.

#an excerpt from a book i’m writing #writing #writeblr #My WIP #romance

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