I was going to tell him my name anyway, but I enjoyed a good game. And I also happened to be really good at beer pong. Shame, since I really didn’t want him to leave me alone.
“I’ll take that bet.” I finally found my voice, realizing I might have to throw the game.
He grabbed plastic cups and started arranging them in a triangle, filling each of my cups with beer well above the normal amount.
“I think that’s enough!” I said, putting my hand over his, halting him from pouring any more.
“I’m just hedging my bets,” he said, releasing that Robert Redford grin again. “Ladies first.” He motioned for me to take the first shot.
Leaning over, I sank the first two balls. As the rules go, I got to go again. I sank the third but missed the fourth. Each time I got a ball in the cup, he had to drink. And that meant watching him bring the cup to his beautiful mouth and watching his Adam’s apple enlarge each time he quenched his thirst. I had kissed three boys before that day and, at that moment, I really wanted to bring that number up to four.
Putting the cup down, he licked his lips before going all Sundance Kid on me again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk. I must warn you, I’m an easy lay when I’ve had a few drinks.”
My eyes widened at the word “lay,” but I kept my wits about me. Watching him lean across the table, I felt a twinge deep inside me. A burning I’d had before but had become accustomed to ignore.
“Since I don’t know your name, can I at least know your birthday?”
“Why?” I asked.
“So I have time to pick out the perfect gift,” he said, leaning forward, ready to make his shot. Inching on his toes, he raised his arm in the air and out in front of him causing his shirt to rise. His white T-shirt inched up, revealing his boxers peaking out over his belt buckle. My eyes traveled farther north to see what else was under that shirt. And there I could see these beautifully sculpted abdominal muscles that came to a “V” above his groin. My roommate called this the pathway to paradise. Long and lean but pure muscle, and I’d never seen anything liked it.
I swallowed hard and tried to refocus on what we were talking about. Oh, my birthday. “September twenty-seventh.” When it’s my turn, my nerves were so at odds with my brain I completely missed the two cups.
Seeing I’d lost my focus, he put his cup down on the table and made his way over to me. His eyes were unsteady, but not from drinking. They were trying to decide something.
“Just so you know, once I know your name, I plan on asking you out. And you will say yes.”
Butterflies took over my stomach. “I will?”
Running his tongue over his lower lip, he stared at me, taking me in, and gently placed his hands on my waist.
“You will. And I need to tell you something.”
My body so aware of his hands on me, I was afraid to move or else he’d take his hands away. “What’s that?”
“Gabe,” he said. I looked at him in confusion. “My name is Gabe. I needed you to know the name of the guy who is about to kiss you.”
My mouth opened on the inhale and it wasn’t enough time to catch my breath before his lips were on mine, and let me tell you, number four was a really good kisser. He tasted of mint, body wash, and Gabe. Our mouths moved so familiarly you wouldn’t have believed it was our first kiss.
I had never gone at it with a guy in a bar before, but I was so attracted to him I couldn’t pull myself away. I could feel his heart racing as he grabbed the back of my head with his right hand, running his fingers through my hair. My body melted right into him as I wrapped my arms around his neck. His left hand traveled down to my lower back and held me as we heard catcalls and hollers from our fellow collegiate drunkards shouting things like, “Get a room!”
After he kissed me a few more times, my lips felt naked. Slightly out of breath, he leaned against my ear and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”
My office phone rings, pulling me out of my daydream. It’s easy to get lost in the memory of when Gabriel and I were falling in-love. I answer the call and tend to the person on the other end. It is someone from Lincoln Center confirming an appointment I made. When the call is done, I hang up and look over at my cell phone sitting on my desk.
I light up the home screen and see a photo of Gabriel and Jackson looking as beautiful as ever. Jackson with dark hair like his dad and cobalt eyes to match. They are definitely twins. I hope Jackson grows up to have Gabriel’s perfect nose too. Gwen always commented on the slight crook of my own. She wanted to get it fixed, but I refused. Gabriel always told me I was perfect.
I forget sometimes how kind Gabriel really is. Perhaps it’s because our personal interactions are few and far between. Maybe a vacation will do us good. That’s what we need. A romantic Caribbean vacation just like our honeymoon when we sailed from the Keys to the Grand Caymans and beyond. Of Gabriel’s many talents, sailing is one of them. I guess that’s what you get for a kid who grew up in sunny Florida.
I close my eyes and remember seeing him at the helm of the boat, with his blue polo and aviator sunglasses, the wind blowing in his beautiful wavy hair. He looked the epitome of peace and happiness, and I could picture him sailing forever. We danced throughout the islands, ate more shellfish than should be legal, devoured conk, and drank tequila. We made love on that boat every day and watched the sunset with our toes in the water. It was pure bliss.
We made a promise to travel the world together on that boat, but deep down we knew that was impossible. He had a law career to nourish, and I was busy working on my own career. That’s when we received the greatest news a couple could expect… A baby was on the way. We bought a house, a car, moved to the suburbs and have been winging it ever since. And here Jackson is with his perfect face and perfect toes, perfect dimples and perfect devilish glare in his eyes when he sees something he wants. It’s the same look Gabriel had that night he saw me walking into that bar.
I know Gabriel is busy at the moment and when this case is done, he won’t be as busy. This is temporary, or is it? What will the next case be, or the next?
Turning back to the newspaper on my desk, I flip through the massive articles on politics, a kidnapping, a local garbage man who saved a pedestrian from being hit by a bus… I jump to the entertainment section and read up on the celebrity gossip: Another DWI for an up-and-coming starlet. Take a cab, people.
Turning the page, I see a face that nearly jumps off the paper at me. There he is in a black tuxedo with the top buttons of his shirt undone and a beautiful brunette on his arm. The title reads, “Alexander Asher and top model cozy up at the Metropolitan Opera House Benefit Gala.”
A knock at the door jolts me from my editorial.
“Come in,” I say, closing the paper and straightening myself for the unexpected visitor.
“Am I disturbing you?” Trish enters wearing an adorable checkered skirt and white blouse. She looks innocent and not slutty. Quite a feat when you’re wearing a schoolgirl ensemble.
“No, please come in,” I say, especially since she comes bearing gifts in the form of coffee. It’s particularly sweet because she brought me a cup and not one for herself.