GALATEA: Business Casual

THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE TO READ ON GALATEA. See the link in my profile.

POV: ADDISON

The bartender’s smirk told me everything I needed to know about what he thought I was doing here.

“Good evening,” he chimed, his eyes raising as he looked me over, probably a bit longer than he should have. “What are we having this evening, beautiful?”

That line should’ve given me the ick, but it seemed tonight I was interested in the lame insinuations, especially with a man looking as good as he did.

He peeked up at me with slicked-back jet-black hair, and I forgot how to speak English.

This was the exact preoccupation I needed right now. A hot guy pouring me a tall glass of bubbling champagne and undressing me with his eyes—that was exactly what I needed.

“A glass of champagne, poured to the brim,” I dictated, a smile on the corner of my lips. It held tension but also relief as my eyes scanned over his.

He poured the glass effortlessly, sneaking glances up at me as he did, causing me to blush. The glass clinked as it was set down on the countertop, and he waited for me to pick it up.

“Thank you,” I sighed, bringing the glass to my lips and taking a large sip.

He cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Rough night already?”

“You have no idea,” I laughed nervously, feeling my nerves build again in the pit of my stomach. “I just needed a drink, really, really badly.”

“Yeah, I can imagine events like these are pretty boring, especially when you don’t know anyone,” he replied.

Was it that obvious that I was new in the business? Maybe it was the dress, or the deer-in-the-headlights look in my eyes?

“Is it that obvious?” I asked, laughing.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, cleaning a glass with a fresh cotton towel. “I mean, you don’t necessarily strike me as the type of girl who’s interested in old dudes, but to each their own, right?” He chuckled as he said the words.

What did he mean…“interested in old dudes?”

My brow furrowed. “I mean, the tech industry is a lot of things, and I guess it has plenty of old men still in it, but it’s evolving now, you know. There’s more than just old dudes in the game now.”

“Doesn’t really look like it,” he murmured, glancing around the room.

And I guess he was right, especially looking at our surroundings right now. It was nothing but a bunch of old dudes at the moment. There was barely any diversity in the room—a few women, a few people of different ethnicities, who looked a hell of a lot more interesting to talk to than the old white men.

“I guess you’re right,” I sighed, taking another sip of the champagne, almost emptying the glass.

“Who are you here with?” he asked.

Then it dawned on me. It finally fucking dawned on me.

He wasn’t talking about “old white dudes” in the sense that they were still heavily part of the tech industry in general—he was wondering what old white dude I came here with.

He didn’t think I was an entrepreneur. He thought I was someone’s date.

God, I hate men.

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. I couldn’t believe that the cute bartender, the one I was ogling and even considering going home with, actually couldn’t fathom that I was intelligent enough to be part of the tech community.

I pressed my lips into a thin line and thought about biting my tongue before I spoke, but I decided against it. I didn’t want to be quiet. I wanted to be heard.

“Well, it seems you’ve already made up your mind about the women at this event, including me.” The words were icy as they left my mouth.

He opened his mouth to argue, but I stopped him right there. I couldn’t allow him to say something even more insulting than he had before. I didn’t want to listen to another word.

If you hadn’t noticed already, I could be dramatic and proud, but at the end of the day, I was just like any other woman who was tired of being disrespected and molded into what society wanted me to be—quiet, uncontroversial, sweet. I was proud of myself for being who I was—unapologetically me to the bone.

“I actually own my very own startup. I know it’s hard to believe, me being a woman and all,” I scoffed.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he defended, his shoulders slumping forward. “I just thought you were somebody’s date.”

“I’m sure you did,” I replied, placing the empty glass of champagne down onto the countertop a little too aggressively.

He gave me the look of defeat a man had in his eyes when he was embarrassed, and I guess I should’ve felt bad making him quiver and regret his words, but I didn’t. I think that we are often taught to make ourselves smaller, more forgiving, even agreeable in society—for men specifically.

It was at that moment I decided how this night would go. I wouldn’t be timid, I wouldn’t feel out of place, I wouldn’t be unconfident. I would be the woman I imagined myself being tonight—confident, poised, interesting.

But as I quickly turned around on my heels, grabbing another glass of champagne off a passing butler’s silver platter, I ran right into a chiseled slab of muscle, splashing my drink all over his perfectly tailored tuxedo.