ALTHOUGH THE BAR was unusually busy for a Wednesday night, Kat and her closest friends had managed to snag a booth in the back corner. The reclaimed wood table was dimly lit by trendy Edison bulbs and completely out of the way -- the perfect place to talk about anything and everything, which is exactly what they had been doing for some time before Gus arrived. Ray had been telling them all about his newest boyfriend, an ex-underwear model who had the tendency to send dirty text messages at all the wrong moments, when Gus had unceremoniously arrived, remarking, "At least it's only text messages and not pictures that you're receiving at work! I've had some unsolicited photos really piss off my boss."
Everyone quickly scooted over to accommodate the newest member of the party, and Jett had practically pushed Kat out of the way in order to sit next to him. Now, almost two hours later, Jett and the gang were several pints in, as was evidenced by their raucous laughter and bawdy commentary; meanwhile, Kat was stone cold sober and begrudgingly listening to the conversation even though she couldn't quite manage to let herself join in.
So it was with a great deal of annoyance that she settled herself into the back corner of the booth. Her friends, normally bewitched by her sharp wit and acerbic intelligence, had quite forgotten her whilst Gus regaled them with stories of his most recent date with a professional bowler named Becca.
Honestly, Kat thought, he must make these stories up. None of this sounds plausible. He's such an insufferable blow hard.
Instead of laughing along with her dearest confidantes, she more firmly lodged herself between purses and overcoats and scarves, listening to the sordid tales of the immature Don Juan. Frowning a little to herself and fighting a growing sense of panic, Kat debated the trouble of having everyone move so she might use the toilet. Or get some air. Or jump off the nearest bridge. Quietly, she sighed to herself.
Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, Gus turned his steady gaze on her. "Are you alright over there, then, Kitty Kat?" he asked, flashing a lopsided smile in her direction. "Do you need anything? I'm just going to fetch another beer. Do you want one?"
His voice made Kat topple out of her reverie, and she found herself stumbling over a reply. She averted her eyes instead, incapable of looking at him, even briefly, and blushed crimson. Kat thought for a moment that she was always a little off-balance around Gus; her body craved his contact no matter how superficial. There was no doubt that he was the most good-looking man she knew. And there was no doubt that the two of them had explosive chemistry.
She remembered how, just earlier in the evening, when he had arrived at their table, he had gently brushed his hand down her arm in greeting. She had been mortified by how her body had responded. Goose pimples erupted beneath his fingers, at once she was chilled and over-heated, her mouth had gone dry, and she had felt herself involuntarily lean into him. Her body had primed itself for him after a silly brush of his fingers.
She blushed again at the recollection and looked up to find her gaze immediately held within his. He smiled at her, patiently waiting for an answer. "Actually," she responded, glancing around the table, "I'm desperate for the toilet. Does everyone mind moving?"
