Dominic

Emily tapped at her phone, the group message pinging in much too much excitement.

She didn’t want to go.

Don’t get her wrong, she was no recluse but a night with people she’d spent all week with? People she barely even liked?

OK… she liked a few, they weren’t all backstabbers.

She switched the phone screen to her friend’s chat, ’Anyone doing anything tonight?’

Bre replied instantly, ’Working :(’

’Same, sorry babe. I’m off tomorrow,’ Gemma replied three seconds later.

“I’m not :(’ Bre came back with.

She groaned to herself. Without a viable excuse, she’d look silly being the only one in the office not going on the night out… she could make something up, but no, everyone could see through her lies.

Lying had never been a strength she had… not that you could call being a good liar a strength, per se, but she had been called a truly terrible liar.

She was also kind of the newbie at work and to not go…?

She sighed. It looked like she had to go.

What the hell did you wear on a work night out? It wasn’t like an out out night.

She threw the first dress on she saw, not having the energy to um and ah over outfits. Scrunching her curls and shoving a touch of makeup on, she looked presentable enough.

She poked her head into the living room, “I’m off out, don’t wait up.”

“I thought you weren’t going?” her mum asked quietly, turning the page of her book.

“I thought it was best to. It’s what you’re meant to do when you start a new job, isn’t it?”

“If you don’t want to, don’t feel you have to,” her dad reminded her.

She waved him off, “It’s fine. Have a nice night!”

“If you need picking up let me know.”

“Dad! I’m not a teenager anymore. I can get a taxi.”

“No. I’ll come pick you up, what time do you want-”

“I’ll get a taxi,” she said more firmly. “It might be super late, you need your beauty sleep or mum’ll divorce you.”

“I told him, one more grey hair, that’s it!” her mum piped up.

“I’d be more worried about the bald spot.”

“Oi!” He rumpled a page from a notebook next to him and launched it towards Emily but she dodged.

“Have a good night!” Emily called before either of her parents could demand they pick her up.

It was sweet, but they still treated her like she was sixteen sometimes, not twenty-five.

The bar was one she liked if she were honest, the decor was enough to entertain her through the dull conversation that she had managed to get into with Michaela. Fishing nets hung from the ceiling, rum bottles stuck bottom out into bookshelves, the pale beach blue colour scheme mixed with yellow and green with black accents to accentuate the Caribbean theme and menu. It had good drinks too, the pina colada was tropical and alcoholic.

Glancing around, she saw a dark-haired man sitting in a corner booth. He looked familiar but she couldn’t think how… His dark hair was cropped at the sides, clean shaven and in a shirt… for some reason she suspected he was wearing formal trousers below the table. She didn’t know what made her think that. He looked towards the door, a faint disappointment on his face.

A spark shot in her mind. His name. Would he want her to talk to him though?

She could only try.

Leaving the group of colleagues, she made her way around the 360-degree bar to his table.

“Marcus?” she asked uncertainly, a little worried it wasn’t him or she’d remembered his name wrong.

He looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. “Yes?”

“Emily? Do you remember?” He probably didn’t… what was she doing?

He studied her, “Erm…”

“The… erm… It was a while ago… a month ago or so… at Devin’s.” Her plump lip disappeared into her mouth, a flash of white teeth sunk into her skin. He didn’t recognise her… why would he? They’d met once and they hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers. He’d bought her a drink then disappeared into the night. He hadn’t been interested. “I’m sorry, ignore me. Have a good night.” She waved awkwardly before turning. What had she been thinking? Stupid Emily. Stupid, stupid Emily.

“Wait!” he called suddenly, making her freeze. “Marketing? You… you like psychology,” he said quickly.

She turned back around a smile finding its way onto her face with a mixture of relief and surprise. “You remember?”

“Course, despite one of the worst nights of my life, you put a smile on my face. Are you here with anyone?”

“Yeah, but you look lonely. Are you waiting for someone?”

“Nah, he won’t turn up.”

She cocked her head to the side. He’d mentioned a man when they’d met… something about taking his best friends girlfriend from him… or something. Same guy? Probably not. “You always come to bars knowing the other person won’t show?”

“Yup.” He gave her a slightly goofy grin.

“Join us if you like, it’s a work thing… kinda boring.” She shrugged. He wouldn’t want to join her. She knew that.. She didn’t know why she’d even offered!

Over the top teacher dude with her? Nope.

“Way to sell it… thought you were in marketing?” he teased, glancing at the door.

“Ya know… I mean it would be amazing, they’re all hilarious and you’ll definitely get on with all of them!” She winked.

He let out a barking laugh. “Good spiel.” His eyes wandered to the door again, “I-”

“You’ll still be able to see the door from where we are, we’re only over there.” She pointed to her colleagues on the other side of the circular bar.

“I’ve got food on the way.”

“Us too! Just let-” The waitress arrived as if on cue, silently setting down the three dishes. “Any other excuses?” Emily whispered, feeling oh so cheeky for asking, but… well, it was true. He was making excuses.

“You got me,” he surrendered, picking up the dishes expertly.

“You sure you’re a teacher?” She was certain that’s what he said he did for a job.

“Waiter at uni,” he admitted, following her over to the group.

She loudly introduced him to be responded in heys and waves. She slipped back into the conversation, still not really wanting to be there but she could feel his eyes on her. Eyes she wanted on her. She’d only thought of their meeting a few hundred times in the last few months. There had just been something about him. He’d seemed… broken. Not that she wanted to fix anyone but there was something about him sitting alone by that window, a line of empty glasses. He’d looked lonely, lost, exactly like he looked tonight in truth.

He probably wasn’t even still single, it had been months. She wasn’t for him. He was way too good for her. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. He was even so confident he was blending in, chatting to two of her colleagues like he’d known them for years.

A hand landed on her waist, she looked to see a blond she knew Dave had brought. She stepped out subtly, not interested in him as she focused back to talking to Michaela, Dave and Jo discussing a TV show they’d all been watching.

“Tom! Tom!” Gavin, who was stood next to Marcus, suddenly bellowed across the crowd, drawing her attention back to them.

“Yo!”

“This guy knows the cool board games!” he shouted as Tom approached before their voices were lost to the music and din on the bar. Board games? She hadn’t suspected that, but… that was pretty cool.

She went back to her own conversation, the blond guy behind her was starting to be a bit more incessant in his touching, his hand on her waist, her lower back. She froze, heat rising on her skin in discomfort as his hand slid to the top curve of her bottom. She gulped just before she turned to give him a piece of her mind… or maybe freeze like a deer in headlights and say nothing at all. Her name drew her attention to a body she hadn’t even realised had slipped to her side

“Emily, probably not the best time, but wanted to talk to you about that contract?”

She looked at him in complete bewilderment, what was he talking about? They didn’t work together… unless this was his way of getting her out. Her eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh! Yeah! I totally forgot! ’Scuse me.” She shrugged the handsy guy off her.

“Coming back, right?” he grumbled at her.

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved back dismissively while Marcus slipped his arm behind her, not touching her but more a protective barrier between her and the guy that couldn’t take a hint. The nearness felt nice, comforting.

“Thank you!” she breathed as they slipped outside into the cool night air.

“Just kick him in the balls next time. You don’t work with him do you?” Marcus’ dark gaze wandered back to the bar, as if he was going to do something if he did work with her.

“No, no he’s a friend of Dave but he zeroed in on me quick,” she explained, smoothing her dress.

“You don’t have to put up with that shit.”

“Oh, I know… just… Don’t know, off my game tonight, normally I’d manage to get rid after a few minutes.” She felt so silly. She bet this guy never had an off day. His hair perfect, and his clothes rumple free.

“We all have off days.” Marcus shrugged nonchalantly.

She didn’t believe that. “How you doing anyway?”

“Yeah, doing alright. Couldn’t believe you recognised me, let alone wanted to talk to me,” he admitted.

“You left an impression.” She smiled coyly.

“Doubt it was a good one.”

“It was. You’re real. So many guys are all hard and so full of themselves… you weren’t.”

“Wasn’t on my game,” he smirked. “I was a jerk. I should have got your number.”

“You should have.”

“Am I too late?”

He wanted it? Well, he was the one that made her doubt his want so… “Hmm…” She waved her hand in a weighing-up gesture. “I think you should make it up to me.” Her azure eyes glinted with mischief, she strangely felt she could be cheeky with him. Herself.

Marcus stepped closer, his warm hand grazing her arm, “And how would I do that?” his voice lowered, his lips closer to her ear.

She looked down, shyness instantly replacing her confidence. “Erm… I- erm…” she stuttered out.

“Would a drink suffice? Or do you want a little more?” He leant further down pressing a chase kiss to the tip of her ear.

“Start with a drink?” she squeaked.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” his hand rested on the dip in her lower back.

Uncomfortable? Hell no. “Nuh uh.” She shook her head.

“Then where’s my confident girl gone?” He pulled her gently into his chest, letting her head rest under his chin.

She let herself lean into him, his body hard, far harder than she expected but not at all unpleasant. “I’m off my game.” She really hoped it didn’t come out as a question.

“Do you want to call it a night?” He swayed her gently on the spot, dancing to the music spilling from the bar.

“Erm…”

“I can get you that drink another night.”

She relaxed more against him. He was warm, comforting. His arms feeling far more safe than anyone else’s ever had. “I think I want that drink tonight, dickhead.” She grinned up at him; he’d told her his name was dickhead… she didn’t think he was. He swooped down, planted his lips against hers, her arms snaking around his neck, tugging him closer. Oh he was a good kisser. He pressed her lower back, tugging her into him more firmly, his tongue slipping between her lips. A small moan worked its way from her chest. How could he be turning her on?!

His hand worked down, squeezing her backside, eliciting a gasp.

“Someone’s sensitive,” he muttered against her, giving her another squeeze, his fingertips pressing into the sensitive spot where her thighs met her bottom. There was something about this man. Just a hint of… dominance. Not like dickhead, controlling, coercive dominance. No. His was quiet, uplifting. It made her feel small and safe. She swallowed, trying to hide the moan, hoping he could not figure out how turned on she was.

“Come on, drink and we’ll exchange numbers, I’m not letting you go without it this time.”

His hand moved back to her waist and she felt her mind start to work again, the gooeyness she’d felt receding enough to think. “Good. You better.”