On Friday afternoon, Carly texted me asking me what I was doing that evening. When I told her I had no plans she said, “Good because you’re hanging out with me and Chris.”
“No I’m not,” I responded. I didn’t have any plans but I wasn’t going to be bored enough to be someone’s third wheel.
“Yes you are. You’re the one who even got me in this situation. It’s going to be awkward so you have to tag along.”
Ugh. I totally planned going home, taking a four hour bubble bath and watching reruns of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. I agreed, but told her that if I started to feel like the third wheel I was bailing. We were supposed to meet Chris at his Lincoln Park duplex at 8:30ish so Carly came over after work so we could get ready/drink wine.
“We’ve been texting a lot, but this will be our first time hanging out,” Carly explained. “And not only that, but he’s expressed no romantic interest in me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“All we ever talk about is drinking and work. He’s never called me pretty or asked me out on a date. Even tonight he just said, ‘do you want to come over and drink?’ His roommate might even be there.”
“Carly, you know you’re gorgeous. You don’t need Chris to tell you that. And you can’t be afraid to make the first move. If you want him, show him,” I said.
“That’s so easy for you to say. You’re so good with guys.”
This was actually laughable.
When we arrived at Chris’ I was already buzzed from the wine. Chris let us in to his place and I was really quite impressed with how clean and fresh it was for two straight guys. My first thought was that Chris was actually gay and that explained the chic apartment and lack of romantic interest. And then I thought maybe he was married and he actually shared the duplex with his wife. I couldn’t wait to get Carly alone and discuss my theories.
“I didn’t know you were coming, Reese, but I’m glad to have you,” Chris said as he led us through the living room to the open concept kitchen and dining room.
“Thanks for allowing me to crash your date!” I said, glancing at Carly.
We walked through the kitchen and into the dining area. The most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on was sitting at the large oak table.
“This is my roommate, Brady,” Chris said as we entered the carpeted dining area.
Brady looked up from his laptop at us. He had close cropped hair, blue eyes and the most perfect nose I’ve ever seen on a human. He was a little more clean cut than I usually go for, but he was so incredibly hot. He stood up and Carly stuck her hand in his face – a little too eagerly.
They shook hands and he turned to me expectantly.
“Reese,” I said, shaking his hand. I suddenly hated myself for only wearing mascara, jeans and an Elsa braid.
“Nice to meet you,” Brady said just to me and not Carly. “What are you guys getting into tonight?”
“I was thinking we would just go downstairs and drink and maybe watch some baseball. Wanna join?” Chris said.
Brady glanced down at his laptop. “I have some work to complete, but maybe later.”
I wondered what his work consisted of. He had on a pastel colored oxford, slacks and argyle socks. He looked deliciously business casual. Maybe he worked in finance or law.
Chris led us down a flight of stairs to the basement and on our way down I texted Carly, “I love him.”
She replied, “Reallyyyyy??? He is really cute!!!”
“We’re getting married,” I said back.
The basement had a full kitchen in the corner – with an impressive fully stocked bar. Chris told us to help ourselves and we each grabbed a bottle of Bud Light out of the refrigerator and then sat on the leather sectional watching the Sox game.
We spent the next hour talking. Chris happens to be a Chicago native so we talked about how our childhoods differed and college. Luckily Chris is just waiting tables on the side and is finishing up his masters. He’s such a good catch for Carly and I’m proud that this was my idea.
Just when I was wondering when my new boyfriend was going to join us, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
Brady appeared behind the sofa with a beer in his hand. He had changed into a fitted white t-shirt and what looked like an elaborate bicep tattoo was peeking out of his sleeve. So maybe he wasn’t as clean cut as I thought. “Sox winning?”
“Yeah, I think we’ve got this one,” Chris answered.
Brady took a swig of his beer and glanced down at me. It was then that I realized I was grinning and battling my eyelashes at him. He smiled back.
“Let’s play beer pong!” Carly suddenly exclaimed.
We all looked at her. Really, Carly? Are we back in college?
“Okay. I’m down,” Chris said.
Apparently beer pong was frequently played in this household because Chris immediately pulled a long rectangle table out of a closet and Brady started filling red cups up.
“Should we play guys against girls?” Brady asked after the table was all set up.
“Nooo, that wouldn’t be fair. Me and Chris against you two,” Carly said wagging her fingers at us.
“Fine with me,” Chris said pulling Carly close by her waist.
Brady joined me on the other side of the table and gave my body the once over. “Are you any good?”
I don’t know about you, but I’m really good at beer pong. I think it’s because I lived next to a frat house in college, but people are always surprised at how good I am.
“Of course,” I purred.
Brady and I won the first two games then apparently all the beer gave Carly and Chris a boost because they won the third. Brady and I high-fived and talked about the strategy of the game a lot. I could tell he is really smart because he used words like “saturated” and “inertia.” It was super cute. If he wasn’t sexy, confident and completely perfect, he would be a nerd.
After the third game, we decided that we were going to walk down to the bars. While Brady and Chris cleaned up the table and cups, Carly and I went back to their bar for more drinks. Carly grabbed another beer, but I found a bottle of tequila with my name on it. I began filling a cup up, but Carly grabbed my arm.
“Reese!” she exclaimed, giving me a wide eyed look.
“If you’re actually interested in Brady then you better slow down. Don’t let Drunk Reese out yet.”
She was absolutely right so I only filled the cup a quarter way up and filled the rest with orange juice.
When we got down to the bar, Carly and Chris immediately started dancing leaving Brady and me at the bar. Which was fine with me because I wasn’t drunk enough to start dancing yet.
Brady and I had no choice, but sit at the bar and talk. I learned that he’s a clinical pharmacist at a hospital here and I was instantly impressed. He’s originally from Massachusetts and went to private school K-12 and Yale for undergrad. Apparently his father is a huge and important politician in Massachusetts and his mother is the CEO of a hospital, a job I didn’t even know existed (how does one even qualify for that?). I can’t lie, I was kind of intimidated. His life is so in control. ASU and my measly 3.7 cumulative GPA were dull in comparison.
My dad at least has a cool enough job to talk about. He’s not the next Mitt Romney or anything, but he gets by. I wasn’t about to tell Brady that my mom runs a cupcake shop part time but mostly spends her days shopping, laying out by the pool and rearranging our house despite being a licensed therapist though. He did say that my job sounded “stimulating” and that it must be nice to have a “creative outlet” that was “financially rewarding.”
Before we knew it, we had finished an entire pitcher of beer.
“Shall we order shots?” Almost-Drunk Reese asked.
Brady raised an eyebrow. “Shall we?”
I nodded and flagged down the bartender. I ordered two modest lemon drop shots for us and instantly began bouncing in my barstool after finishing mine. I was totally drunk enough to dance.
I stood up and grabbed Brady’s hand and tried to drag him onto the dance floor, but he wouldn’t budge.
“I don’t dance,” he smiled and pulled me closer to him – so that I was directly in front of him and our legs were touching.
“Not even with me?”
He looked as if he was considering this when that “Fancy” song by Iggy Whoever came on. Sober Reese finds this song obnoxious, but Drunk Reese immediately started dancing – giving Brady some sort of pseudo lapdance/personal rap concert. So fucking embarrassing.
But while I danced in front of him, he kept a super light hold of my hand and watched me closely. For some reason it was really intimate and sexy. When the song was over, I put my hands on his thighs and leaned down close to his face.
“Sure you don’t want to dance with me?”
Brady opened his mouth like he was either going to say something or kiss me and I was desperately hoping for the latter. We stayed like this – breathing into each other’s mouths – for a full minute. I felt his thighs tense up under my hands and without even having to look down, I knew he had a boner. My heart rate quickened as I leaned down even closer so our lips just barely brushed each other. Brady lightly bit my lower lip and my entire body ached because I wanted him so bad.
But suddenly Chris and Carly came bounding back to the bar hand in hand, interrupting our moment. I quickly sat back down in my own barstool.
“Are you guys ready? I have to work early,” Carly yawned.
“Yes, I’m becoming tired as well,” Brady said.
We tabbed out and made the short walk back to their place. Carly had driven us so she and Chris stood in front of her car saying goodbye/making out.
“I’m going to head inside and get some sleep. It was a pleasure talking to you, Reese,” Brady said.
I stood there smiling stupidly. A pleasure talking to me? Wasn’t he going to ask for my number or invite me in so we could have sex? I wasn’t going to, but the invitation would’ve been nice.
“See you later,” I said.
On the ride back to my apartment, I told Carly what happened.
“I’m sure he was just too shy to ask for your number. Chris said he’s not aggressive enough with girls,” Carly said.
I considered this. Brady didn’t seem shy at all, but maybe Chris was right about him not being aggressive. He had plenty of opportunity to kiss me. We got to my apartment and Carly decided to stay the night because it was so late.
God. Now I’m thinking maybe I’m not agressive enough either. I should’ve given him my number, right?