Page 3 of Forgotten Comeback (Parisi Family #5)
Chapter
Two
Taylor
I peruse The Diamond bar’s drink menu, acting like I don’t have this list memorized. I’ve been hanging out here after every shift, hoping I’ll run into my crush. Admittedly, there’s a fine line between serendipity and stalking; I’m hoping to keep my manicured toes on the serendipitous side.
“What can I get you? Oh, hey, Taylor.” Mia smiles brightly. Yay, she remembers my name! “You finished with your shift?”
“Yes, thank God. It was one of those nights.” An unruly player got a little too handsy with me, which got him a lifetime ban from the casino.
“I feel you. There was a bachelor party in here earlier.” She rolls her eyes.
“Oh, there’s nothing worse,” I commiserate.
“Right? No manners, terrible pickup lines, and crappy tippers. The bright side is I’m about to clock out.”
“Any plans?”
“Actually, I’m about to head to a party. You want to join? My friend scored tickets but had to bail at the last minute.”
Play it cool.
“Sure. Sounds like fun.”
“Why don’t you meet me in the employee lot, and you can follow me in your car?”
“Perfect.”
She disappears to the back, and I practically sprint to my car. Yanking down my visor mirror, I check my makeup and add another coat of lip gloss. Popping a peppermint in my mouth, I nearly jump out of my skin when there’s a knock on the window.
I roll it down for my bestie, Kat. “Who are you going home with?”
“Who says I’m going home with anyone?” I lift an eyebrow.
“You’re hanging out in the parking lot fixing your makeup after shift; of course you’re going home with someone.” She waves her hand. “The question is with who? Or is it with whom? I don’t know; you’re the one who took AP English in high school.”
“Whom.” I laugh. “And that whom is Mia. Unless I’m completely misreading the signs, and I wind up making a huge ass of myself.” Everyone knows I’m bi, but I’m unsure of Mia’s orientation. What I do know is there’s a delicious zing of sexual attraction between us; I just hope she feels it too.
“Oooh, the new bartender. I say go for it. You only make the shots you take, right?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘you only miss the shots you don’t take.’”
“You know I hid behind the bleachers and smoked during PE and missed the daily motivational pep talks. Break a leg, how about that?”
“That only works for theater.”
Kat playfully huffs. “Good luck, you persnickety bitch.”
I laugh. “Love you too. Do you have plans?”
“Yes, indeed. I have a date with a bottle of wine and my bed.” She rubs her hands together.
“With or without a man?”
Kat snorts a laugh. “I’m not fixing my makeup if that tells you anything. Have fun. Check in with me tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mom,” I tease.
She makes a call me motion with her pinky and thumb to her ear before walking off.
A few minutes pass, and I worry Mia changed her mind about the invite…
“Hey,” Mia says, and I nearly jump out of my skin for a second time. “You ready?”
“Ready. You look amazing.” Mia’s changed from her casino uniform to a smoking hot mini dress.
Her cheeks flush, but I can’t interpret whether it’s because she’s uncomfortable or she’s feeling this attraction too. “Thanks. I’m parked over here.” She points out her car. “Follow me.”
“Sounds good.” I flash a smile.
Mia walks to her car, and I overanalyze every word I’ve ever spoken to the woman as I pull out of the parking lot and follow her to the outskirts of Atlantic City.
We arrive at a warehouse with the gravel parking lot nearly full, and I pull into one of the only available spaces beside Mia. “Whose party is this?” I ask when we step out of our cars.
“I’m not sure,” she admits. “Let’s check it out, and if it’s sketchy, I’m all for going somewhere else.”
“Good plan.” Like home with me.
We walk to the door, and Mia gives the bouncer her friend’s name. We’re checked off a list and enter a huge room with techno blaring.
I follow Mia across the dance floor, nearly getting separated by the crush of people. She reaches back and grabs my hand. Butterflies dance in my stomach to the beat of the music, but she lets go far too quickly.
We come to a smaller bar with a low-key vibe. “This is more my scene,” Mia says.
“Same,” I agree. “What do you want to drink? First round’s on me.”
“Whatever you’re drinking. I’m going to find us a seat,” Mia says, scanning the room.
I belly up to the bar, ordering vodka shots and two cosmopolitans—which I happen to know is her favorite cocktail. Alright, so I’m toeing the stalker line.
Holding the drinks with both hands, I make my way through the crowd to find Mia seated on a love seat in the corner. “I would’ve helped you carry those,” she says as I set them down on the accent table.
“No worries. I used to bartend before I went to dealer school.”
“Is dealing your dream job?” she wonders.
Admitting that I gave up on my dreams a long time ago sounds too depressing, so I shrug. “It’s a job.” I hand her the shot and hold up mine. “Cheers.” We clink glasses and kick back the vodka.
The next hour flies by with us chatting over drinks, and now full of liquid courage, I lean over and take my shot. “Mia?”
“Yes?” She meets my eyes, her cheeks flushed.
“Have you ever been with a woman?”
She teases her bottom lip with her teeth. “No.”
“You know I’m bi, right?” I move in closer, to where we’re only inches apart.
“Yeah,” she says, her sweet breath fanning my face.
My fingers graze her cheek as I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ever been kissed by a woman?”
“No,” she whispers.
“Would it be alright if I were you first?’
Mia’s eyes are wide, but she nods, and I bring my lips to hers.
She’s trembling with nerves, and it’s so cute as I flick my tongue against her lips.
She opens for me, and I move my tongue to her mouth, swirling it delicately around hers.
Mmm. Cranberry and vodka and the taste of a woman who’s never been with another woman.
I can’t wait to show her what she’s been missing.
I pull back to gauge her reaction, and smile when I see she’s smiling. And then my bladder, which I’ve been ignoring for the past thirty minutes, has to go ruining the moment. “I need a bathroom break,” I tell her with a frustrated sigh. “Be right back.”
I hurry out and down the hall, only to come to a screeching halt. “Is the line for the bathroom?” I ask the woman in front of me.
“Yep,” she says. “Who the hell designs a one-staller for the ladies’ room?”
“Right?” I agree. “Do you know if there’s another bathroom somewhere?”
“Don’t know. This place is like a maze.”
Minutes tick by as I tap my foot in frustration. “Fuck this. I’m using the men’s.”
“A dude was in there for like thirty minutes,” she warns me.
“I’ll risk it.” Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it as I enter and squat over a crime scene of a toilet. Using the bottom of my heel to flush, I quickly wash up, my lungs screaming at me for air.
Taking short, rapid breaths, I fling the door open and exhale. “That bad?” My line buddy asks.
“Don’t do it,” I warn her.
I weave my way across the dance floor, but Mia’s no longer seated on the couch. My jaw clenches when I spot her at the bar, and who she’s chatting it up with.