His grip loosened on my arm until he let it slide completely away.
“Really?”
His brows were drawn together, but I did nothing to relieve his confusion.
“Really.” I nodded as an elaborate lie started to play out in my mind. “A friend of Dean’s asked me to get drinks during the restaurant opening and I told him I’d think about it.”
Hmm, that seems fairly logical. Even if I’d been with Julian most of last night, that didn’t mean I hadn’t had a few moments to myself, a few minutes for someone to hypothetically hit on me.
“And you’re going to go?” he asked with a sharp tone.
I nodded, smug and annoyed by his line of questioning. “Yup. I think it’s time to finally push myself out of my comfort zone, make some other friends in New York besides you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Josephine
Did I have a date the following night? Sure.
Was it with a real person? Technically, no. (Unless ghosts of relationships past count.)
Would I be dressing to the nines, going to a bar, and sitting alone? Yes.
Why? Because stupid Julian with his stupid good looks could suck it.
In truth, I hadn’t thought much about my love life in the recent years. When you go to an all-girls high school and then enroll in a fashion program for college, your odds of running into cute, eligible, interested men are just about zero. I’d dated off and on in Texas, but there’d been nothing serious and no one worth remembering.
I’d secretly hoped that moving to New York would change that, but it’s not like I’d had much time to spread my wings (or my legs). So far I’d spent nearly all of my time working with Julian, hanging out with Julian, or texting Julian, which is why I was taking a night off from him, or at least a few hours.
I’d looked up good bars around my apartment. I knew that I could sign up for a dating site or download one of those “hookup” apps, but I wanted to do it the old school way. Surely there was still hope for people like me.
I’d decided to go to an intimate cocktail bar near my tenth-floor walkup. (Yet another reason I didn’t need to exercise. Ten sets of stairs is the work of the devil.) It was called The Merchant and it catered to a young professional crowd. At 5:45 PM, it was already packed and I had to slither past groups of friends to find the bar toward the back.
My skin crawled with nerves as I made my way through the crowd. It seemed like everyone else was sitting with at least one other person, but I was hoping I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb if I sat at the bar by myself. The music was loud and the conversations were flowing around me. I kept waiting for someone to notice me, but no one even batted an eyelash as I pulled back one of the bar stools and reached for the drink menu. In some ways it felt like New York was a city for the lonely.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked with a heavy New York tongue. His blond hair was buzzed short and he had a five o’clock shadow that was working wonders for his otherwise baby face. I smiled and then motioned to the drink menu.
“Could I have just one more second?”
He nodded. “Take your time.”
There were all sorts of fancy cocktails with ingredients I couldn’t pronounce, but I didn’t have much to spend, not if I wanted to stay within the strict budget I’d set for myself.
“Do you have any sauvignon blanc?” I asked the bartender with a friendly smile. A glass of wine couldn’t cost that much.
He furrowed his brow. “Let me check.”
He walked to the other end of the bar and I turned to inspect the patrons around me. I was smack-dab between two couples. The two on my left had thick foreign accents and were using boisterous hand gestures as they chatted loudly. They didn’t even notice me watching them as they continued their conversation at lightning speed. Even if I’d understood what they were saying I couldn’t imagine keeping up.
“Here you go,” the bartender said, sliding a glass of wine across the bar.
I met his eye and smiled.
“Although between you and me, you shouldn’t come to a bar and order wine,” he said with a flirty smile.
“Oh really?” I asked, quirking a brow as I took a sip.