Page 53 of The Compass Series

AALIYAH

H is drink of choice was whiskey, which made me think he was a lot older than he looked.

What guy my age drank straight whiskey? Most guys I knew were drinking beer or the cheapest shots they could find.

My drink was a Long Island because I was a wild child.

When I reached into my purse to pay for said drink, he’d somehow already had the bartender put it on his tab.

“Hey!” I argued, shooting him a stern look.

He shrugged. “Sorry. Where I come from, the man pays for the pretty lady’s drink.”

He called me pretty, and I pretended not to notice. “You came from like 1918, sir. Times have changed.”

“So you know your Captain America trivia.”

“I’m a comic book nerd. On top of that, I went through a Chris Evans phase—which, honestly, I’m still in.”

“I can’t blame you. Have you ever seen that man’s butt?”

“That’s America’s ass,” I joked, lifting my drink. “Thanks for this, but just so you know, just because you bought me a drink doesn’t mean I owe you anything. Not my time, not my attention, and not my body.”

He laughed and nodded. “Thank you for making that clear. Would that go both ways if you bought me a drink?”

“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “You would have to give me your time, your attention, and your body.”

“That seems ass-backward.”

I shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. I just follow them. By the way, how old are you?”

“Twenty-five. You?”

“Twenty-two. I could tell you were old because you’re drinking straight whiskey.”

He laughed. “I’m only three years older than you.”

“A lot can change in a person’s life in three years.”

“You’re not wrong there. Three years ago, I probably wasn’t drinking whiskey, but somewhere along the way, I started making business deals with older gentlemen who poured me expensive glasses. So, I’ve adapted.”

“Do you actually enjoy the whiskey, or is it just something you were told to enjoy?”

“Ah, the old question of what’s truly a person’s choice, and what was chosen for them based on their surroundings.” He tapped his pointer finger against his chin. “I think I like it because I like it.”

“I guess it’s possible to grow into things society introduced you to, too.”

His eyes narrowed, and he looked at me as if trying to uncover some secret about me.

He blinked and turned away to lift his drink, then his stare came back to me.

For a moment, it felt as if we were the only two standing in the middle of the packed bar.

I lost myself in his eyes for a moment—up until Big Bird bumped into me, bringing me back to reality.

“You want to find a table to drink these together?” he asked, very attentive. Even when the bird bumped me, he didn’t look away. He stayed focused on me, making it easy for me to return my attention to him.

“If you’re able to find a table in this packed place, I’ll have two drinks with you,” I joked, knowing it was damn near impossible to find a vacant table in any bar on Halloween night.

He cocked a brow and gave me a mirthful grin. “Challenge accepted. Follow me.”

I did as he said, and we circled the bar not once, not twice, but three times.

Each lap was unsuccessful. We ended up standing by a staircase that led upstairs to where the bar kept their inventory.

Captain clapped his hands together, walked over to the staircase, and took a seat.

He patted the step below him as a clear invitation for me to join him.

“This isn’t exactly a table,” I said, sipping at my Long Island. “Which means you failed the challenge.”

“What makes a table a table exactly?” he urged. “It’s a made-up concept that some man or woman created in their mind, and then they told everyone about it.”

I laughed. “If you look at it that way, everything is just a made-up concept.”

“‘There are no facts, only interpretations.’ Nietzsche said that.” He gestured for me to sit, and I did because honestly, I found this guy amusing. I hadn’t felt amused in weeks. All I’d really felt was sad and lonely. It felt good to feel something different for a short period.

“Are you big on philosophers?” I asked. He seemed surprised that I knew he was referring to Friedrich Nietzsche, but he didn’t say it out loud.

“I took a philosophy class before I dropped out of college. It changed my life, and I fell into a deep pool of seeking truths by following the greats. You know, Plato, Nietzsche, Aristotle, Socrates. I could nerd out on any one of them.”

Something was sexy about a man who was nerdy. It seemed as though the two concepts should’ve canceled one another out, but alas, the sexy nerd was something that was here to stay.

“Okay. Nerd out about Aristotle,” I urged, tipping my glass in his direction before I took a sip. “Give me one of your favorite quotes from him.”

He sat up a bit straighter, pleased with the challenge. “‘Hope is a waking dream.’”

I liked the way words left his mouth. It wasn’t just his words, but the way he connected to them, to the person he was delivering them to. Captain spoke to me as if I were the only person who existed at that very moment, and that fact sent chills down my spine.

Hope is a waking dream.

“Do you have any waking dreams?” I asked.

He smiled and sipped his drink. “I hope so.” He scratched at the side of his facial hair and wiggled his nose slightly. “Speaking in philosopher quotes kind of makes me sound like a pretentious asshole, though. So, I think this is the proper time to inform you that I am also trained in bad jokes.”

I laughed. “I’ll need proof.”

He leaned in toward me, and those eyes of his made my heart skip a few beats. “Why did the ketchup blush?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“He saw the salad dressing.”

I laughed out loud, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re right—that is a bad joke.”

“Why did the mermaid wear seashells?”

“Do tell.”

“She outgrew her b-shells.”

It took a moment for me to connect the dots on that one, but when I did, I burst out laughing. “You really just have these random quotes and bad jokes in your head, don’t you?”

He tapped his temple. “It’s a very scary place inside this noggin. The number of useless facts I have up here is terrifying, but I think I have a lot of good information, too, so it’s a balanced place.”

“I can see that already.”

“Did the bad jokes make me less of a pretentious asshole?”

“Yeah, they just made you kind of dorky, but I hear dorks are in this year.”

He wiped his head in relief. “Good because otherwise I’d be fucked.”

I smiled at him, and he smiled back effortlessly. For a few moments, all we did was grin at one another, but the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt satisfying as if being silent with him was normal.

Then, we fell back into conversation, and that felt normal, too.

We talked about a lot of things, but what shocked me the most was that I was laughing so much. Gosh, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so freely and openly.

“Uh, can you two not sit on these steps?” an employee said, standing in front of us with a tray of dirty dishes.

We instantly stood with our now empty glasses and moved out of the way. The employee muttered something under her breath about how annoying people were, and I couldn’t blame her. The Halloween crowd had to be a handful.

“Well, our drinks are gone,” Captain observed, waving his glass in the air.

“That’s a shame. I was having a good time talking to you.”

“If only there was a way to get another drink,” he said, shaking his head.

I smirked. “If we have another drink, I’m paying for it. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“If the only way you’ll let me continue talking to you is if you buy the drink, I surrender my wallet and leave it all up to you.”

Good boy.

I could feel the cocktail I’d had making my body feel a bit relaxed in a good way, but I knew my drink of choice would be a water this time around.

I had a very solid rule about drinking water after every alcoholic beverage.

I never went out to get wasted. My idea of a good time was to have a nice buzz that hovered over me.

It left me still feeling like myself, but a heightened version of me.

We walked over to the bar, and I ordered the drinks.

I noticed Captain’s disappointment about not being able to pay, but he didn’t complain or fight me on the subject.

A part of me couldn’t understand why he wanted to talk to me so badly.

Another part figured maybe it was as easy for him to talk to me as it was for me to talk to him.

Maybe he enjoyed the effortlessness of it all too.

“I just realized…we’ve spent the past thirty minutes talking, and I don’t even know your name, Red.”

My chest tightened a bit. I’d realized the same, but it made it kind of fun for me. “Don’t tell me your name, and I won’t tell you mine. I think once we do that, the magic of our conversation will fade. It will make it…real, and honestly, at this point in my life, I can’t do much real.”

He arched an eyebrow but didn’t push for me to give my name. “Okay, I’ll call you Red.”

“And you’re Captain for me. Cap, for short, obviously. I?—”

“Holy shit!” Captain barked. Breaking his stare away from me, he grabbed our drinks and dashed off to the left of the room, leaving me standing there dazed and confused.

As I followed his movements, the situation became clearer as he slid into a booth being vacated by two Tinker Bells and a Peter Pan.

The way Captain claimed that spot made me smile.

A certain amount of pride flooded his face as he puffed out his chest and patted the seat beside him.

I walked over and slid into the booth, leaving a bit of space between us even though an odd part of me wanted to move in closer.

“Based on us not learning each other’s names, I get the feeling I’m not going to get your number at the end of the night.”

I shook my head. “Probably not, no.”

“Okay. So that means whatever we say tonight is probably the last things we’ll ever say to one another.”

“Yes.”