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The Blind Pig Parlor is buzzing now that people are a few drinks deep. Here I am, next to ‘Ziggy's friend’, Rachel, and it’s a hell of a different experience now than when I walked into the restaurant earlier tonight. Elliot gave me a long-winded lecture about, "keeping it out of the friend group,” to not hit on Rachel, or mess with her head. I promised I wouldn’t do anything, but… that ship sailed a long time ago.

Dinner was a tense affair. Rachel barely looked at me, her shoulders tense and her jaw set like she was holding something back. I thought we had a good time together last time, no expectations, just a bit of fun between two consenting adults. But based on the way she reacted tonight, I was the last person on earth she wanted to see again.

I don’t get it. No promises were made that night. I live my life with very clear lines, no strings ever. She knew that going in. It was just a night of harmless fun, a night that was damn near fantastic. So, yeah, it caught me off guard, seeing her so angry every time I so much as breathed in her direction.

But now, here we are, two tequila shots deep, and the tension from dinner has been obliterated. Rachel’s knee brushes mine under the table, and I can see a small flicker of the excitement I know she is capable of. Her laughter is easier, louder now. Her eyes light up brighter as she relaxes, a sight I didn’t realize I wanted to see again until now.

I lean in closer, my voice teasing, “You know, I forgot how much fun you can be, Rachel Reese.”

She smirks, a little fire burning in her eyes. “Maybe that is a good thing, Samuels.”

Damn. I like seeing her like this—a little wild, her guard down just enough to experience her sharp wit. There’s something different about her tonight, and I can’t put my finger on it. But I know one thing–it makes me want to push even my own boundaries.

I tilt my head, pretending to think. “You ever consider that maybe it’s a bad thing? I think good things can come from seeing the fun side of you again.”

She laughs, a real laugh this time, and it sends a rush of adrenaline straight through to my cock. I remember that laugh from our night together—a night that was supposed to be a one time thing. But right now, I’m feeling the urge to see if that spark between us can ignite again. I watch her as she takes a sip of her drink. I push a little further. I’m not supposed to, I know that. But everything about Rachel makes me want to test all the limits.

“So,” I say, lowering my voice a bit, just enough that she has to lean in to hear me over the noise of the bar. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to since you disappeared that night?”

“Disappeared on you?” She narrows her eyes at me, “I think you’ve got that backward, Samuels. No strings, remember?”

“Yeah,” I nod slowly, not breaking eye contact. “But you gotta admit, it was a fucking fantastic night.”

Her cheeks flush, and I know I’ve hit on the truth. But she doesn’t pull back. Instead, she meets my gaze head-on, her voice steady, even playful. “Maybe it was. But I’m not in the habit of repeating mistakes.”

“Ouch,” I laugh, clutching my chest in offense. “That’s harsh, even for you.”

She shrugs, but her smile widens. “I call it like I see it.”

I take another sip of my drink and decide to throw caution to the wind. “How about another round?” I ask, raising my glass. “We’re just getting started.”

She hesitates for a moment, and I can see her weighing the pros and cons in her head. Then, to my surprise, she nods, raising her glass to meet mine. “Alright, Samuels. One more round. But don’t get any ideas.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, but there’s a glint in my eyes that tells her I’m lying.

“Elliot, do me a favor and grab us another round on my tab, dude.” I ask Elliot, hoping that he will take the bait and leave me alone with her. Because the truth is, seeing Rachel again has been nothing like I expected. And now that I’ve got her laughing and loosening up, I can’t help but wonder where this night might take us.

Elliot grumbles something under his mustache. No telling what, my guess is nothing that would paint me in a good light. My boy has always been my biggest support but we have never been on the same page when it comes to relationships. He is a one woman man, case in point, the sucker fell head over heels with Ziggy the moment she was mean to him the first time. Whereas, I am more of a ‘love them and leave them’ type. I flirt with anyone and everyone. What’s the harm, if I'm up front about it?

Elliot heads off to the bar with Ziggy in tow, leaving Rachel alone with me at the table. Perfect timing. I turn to her, flashing her a grin, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Why not throw caution to the wind tonight, Rachel? After tomorrow, you won’t have to see me again. Just like last time.”

Her eyebrow arches, the guarded walls from dinner start to form again, but the spark in her eyes tells me she’s not outright dismissing the idea. “You think I’m going to fall for that again, Samuels? You don’t do repeats, remember.”

I lean in closer, my voice dropping lower so only she can hear. “Come on… you know we are good. What’s one exception to the rule?”

I know I’m playing with fire, but I don’t care. There’s something about the way she’s come alive tonight—the way she’s giving back as good as she gets, her sharp wit—that’s got me hooked. I watch her take a deep breath, her eyes flitting around the bar as she weighs her options, clearly conflicted, calculating, deciding whether or not to take the bait.

Her tone tests the waters. “And what makes you think I’m interested, Oren? You think I’m going to let you convince me this is a good idea?”

I can’t help but grin as I lean even closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear lightly, “No, you’re only going to do what you want… and I think you want this.” I watch her closely, waiting for her reaction, feeling the anticipation coil tight in my chest.

Elliot comes running back to the table, his eyes wide, practically yelling, “Tu ne peux absolument pas coucher avec elle! Cela ne finira pas bien.” [1]

He’s frantic, waving his arms like a referee breaking up a fight, “Bud, as-tu des lésions cérébrales? Tu as accepté de rester loin d'elle.” [2]

I burst out laughing at his over-the-top dramatics, “Du calme, bel homme. Je suis mon gentil moi habituel.” [3]

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Elliot grits out. Ziggy mutters something in his ear, trying to calm him down, but he isn’t having it.

I shake my head, still chuckling. I keep my cool, leaning back in my chair, but keep my body close to Rachel. The chemistry between us is a silent dare hanging in the air. I can feel her heat right next to me, so I give her a sideways grin. I know Elliot’s right—this is probably a terrible idea—but his freak-out only makes me want to see where this goes even more. My eyes meet hers, as if to say, Well, what’s it gonna be?

Ziggy manages to calm Elliot down, promising him something kinky that I would rather have someone box my ears in than ever think about the two of them doing, but it works, so I keep my mouth shut. Soon enough, we’re all back to laughing. It’s the kind of good time I could get used to. A group of friends, good drinks, easy laughter—is easy to come by for most people, but not me. I’m always on the move, chasing the next game, the next thrill, never staying in one place long enough to let this kind of thing become a habit.

I flirt shamelessly with Rachel every chance I get—to hell with Elliot’s warnings. I just can’t help myself. Her entire being is infectious. Every time I see that spark in her eyes, I want to pull her closer, push my hand up her thigh, and find out exactly how far she is willing to let me take this.

Instead of reaching out and touching her, I just grin wider, “I’m persistent, you know. I’ll win you over.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a spark of something more there. “Don’t count on it, Samuels.”

I tilt my head toward her. “Oh, I’m not counting on it. I’m betting on it.”

I know I’ve got her attention so I turn my attention back to the conversation that Elliot and Ziggy are having. They are arguing about the best way for all of us to get home. My confidence grows as she seems to hesitate, her eyes darting between mine and the table as if she’s weighing her options. Watching her think about my offer makes the unfamiliar sensation that comes from my interactions with her spread through me. Elliot and Ziggy gather their things and try to convince all of us to take a car back to their place, but we all know that won’t work. I turn to Elliot with a grin, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll make sure Rachel gets home safely,” I say, adding a wink just to piss him off.

His jaw tightens, and I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears, which only makes me grin wider. With a quick slap on Elliot’s shoulder, I make my way over to the bar to close out my tab, feeling the buzz of the Tequila and the adrenaline kicking in.

When I return to the table, Rachel is there by herself, waiting for me. Elliot and Ziggy are gone, probably muttering about me all the way to the car. Perfect. Now it’s just us, no interruptions, and I can feel the current between us humming like a live wire. My eyes ask Rachel one last time, are you in?