Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
When the awkwardness gets to be too much, I say, “He was actually a cool guy, the stripper.”
Garrett arches a brow and frowns.
“His name was Trevor, and he told me he performs at Club Red on the island.”
My house and the club are both on Four Points Island, which is attached to the mainland by a bridge. It’s only a short drive from Whitman, where we are now.
“I’ve heard ads on the radio for that place,” Garrett says, still mostly frowning.
“He invited me to come and watch the show tonight …” I let my voice trail off. I don’t know why I’m telling him this, even after revealing the status of my sex life. I guess I’m still debating with myself about whether to go or not.
My coworker takes a bite of his taco with a crunch that seems unusually loud. Is there such a thing as eating aggressively?
“You don’t think I should go?” I ask.
He chews and swallows, assessing me as he does. “I didn’t say that. You’re not going alone, are you?”
“I’m definitely not asking Kelly or Lindsey to come with me,” I say.
“I’ll go with you.” Garrett sounds very matter of fact, as if he’s simply offering to walk me to my car after dark, not accompany me to a male strip club. Maybe he hasn’t had sex because he’s questioning his sexuality. Maybe he wants to see men take off their clothes.
“Are you sure?” I ask. To be honest, I would feel more comfortable having someone with me, and I don’t know who else I’d ask.
“Definitely,” he says. “What time should I pick you up?”
3
Autumn
After-Hours Garrett doesn’t look too much different than Work Garrett, except that he’s somehow even more attractive. He’s clearly taken a shower, put on a different button-down than he was wearing today, and there is a hint of a citrusy cologne that I’ve never detected on him during the day.
My usual work uniform consists of pants, a blouse, and sensible shoes, but when he picks me up, I’m wearing a little black dress and high heels, and it’s clear my outfit takes him by surprise.
“Not the typical IT attire?” I ask, flipping a strand of my long blonde hair forward. It’s loose tonight, rather than in the ponytail I often wear during the day.
“Not sure that outfit meets the office dress code,” he says. “You look very nice, though.”
I spent some of the afternoon speculating about Garrett’s sexual preferences, but I think the look he’s giving me indicates that he’s definitely into women.
“I’m ready,” I say, stepping out onto the porch. He came to my front door to pick me up, but I didn’t invite him in because I’m still in no mood to talk to my roommates, nor do I want any questions about who Garrett is, or where we’re going.
At his car, he opens the passenger door for me. “You don’t have to treat this like a date,” I say, bending to sit while making sure my dress doesn’t ride up too far. Instead of answering, he waits for me to get situated and closes the door before going around to his side. I’ve been in this car with him hundreds of times, but only during daylight hours, and only in my boring work clothes. The energy between us is different, and feels reminiscent of the awkward silence during our lunch.
Was letting him come with me a bad idea? What if things get even more awkward and we’re no longer comfortable joking with each other or going out to lunch? I’d miss our friendship immensely.
Thankfully, it’s a short drive to the club. The parking lot is already very full, and Garrett has to drive up and down a few rows before finding a spot.
Dozens of women are walking toward the entrance in clusters. It's definitely a girls-night-out kind of place. "Are you sure you want to go in?” I ask Garrett, who nods in reply. “Maybe it will be good for laughs, if nothing else,” I tell him, and he smiles back at me.
Trevor dancing in my living room was quite bizarre yesterday, but I have a feeling that nothing will be laughable about seeing him strip on stage. Now that the shock of last night has mostly worn off, I’ve been remembering his body and how good it looked. I liked him best when he was being himself, leaning against the kitchen counter and eating chips, not dancing around and trying to be sexy. He looked better when he was relaxed.
There’s a line at the door, of course. When we cross the threshold and I open my little purse, Garrett says, “I’ve got this.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m the reason we’re here.” To be fair, I didn’t actually invite him, though he’s doing me a favor by accompanying me. He seems worried for my safety, though I’m not sure what the danger is here. I suppose I could get trampled by women rushing in the door, but other than that, I don’t see anything to be worried about. It’s nice to have his company, though.