“Yeah, they really know their mixology here,” he said, scooting in next to me.
Was I supposed to move along to give him some room or was the whole point to let him sit close to me? I wished I could surreptitiously text Sylvie for advice, but Sebastian didn’t seem to be taking his eyes off me. I split the difference and shifted slightly, but not too far away.
After I downed my first cocktail—bourbon-based with muddled rosemary—the tension in my body receded a little.
“I wanted to say thank you for everything you’re doing for Grandma.” Sebastian rested his elbow on top of the banquette behind me, right next to my shoulder, but stopped short of touching me. “It’s so much better now that everything’s out in the open—though my dad still won’t really discuss it.”
“I’m happy to help—it’s my job, after all,” I said, distracted by his arm position. “So, how long have you been playing the cello?” Hopefully my tactic of deflecting the conversation away from me was less obvious to him than it was to Sylvie.
“Since I was a kid.” He swirled his tropical cocktail—a drink choice I wouldn’t have expected of a man in his thirties, but I was no expert. “I was never really athletic—my sisters got our family’s share of that gene—and plus I had a lot of allergies, so my mom kept me indoors a lot. On my tenth birthday, Grandma took me to the music store and told me I could pick any instrument to learn and I chose the cello. Since I was the smallest kid in my class at the time, and it looked so big and powerful, I thought maybe if I could make music on it, I’d feel powerful too.” Now he was stabbing at his ice cubes with the straw. “Looking back, I really should have chosen something cooler—like a guitar—or at least an instrument that was easier to carry. Getting around the city with a cello is kind of hell.”
“I can imagine.” I tried to hide my smile, thinking of Sebastian trying to wrangle a large instrument amid a packed train of New Yorkers who were precious about their personal space.
He sipped his drink then licked his lips. “Do you play anything?”
“My grandpa had an old banjo that I kind of taught myself to play.” Another YouTube adventure that—judging by the fact that my pets left the room whenever I played—was only slightly successful. “I’d love to learn piano, but there’s not really room for one in my apartment.”
“Not even an electric keyboard?”
“My apartment is pretty crowded already.”
“Oh, you live with someone?” Sebastian’s tone was affectedly casual.
“Just my pets. I have two cats and a dog.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of animals.”
“You don’t have any pets?” I definitely wasn’t going to mention that I was considering adopting a cockatoo I’d seen on Craigslist.
Sebastian shook his head. “I’m allergic to cats and dogs, so I’d be miserable if I did.” He rubbed his nose, as if allergic to the thought.
“I’m sorry,” I said, genuinely sad for him. “I can’t imagine not having pets.” They were what helped make my life livable—beating hearts to come home to each day.
He shrugged. “I’ve never really been much of an animal person anyway, so I’m fine with it.”
* * *
By the end of the night, three cocktails deep, I still hadn’t come to a concrete conclusion about whether we were on a date. His arm was now stretched out behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his armpit but still not quite touching me. Each time he leaned forward to sip his drink, I noticed the scent I’d come to associate with him—a fusion of spiced body wash, clothes left in a drawer too long, and a hint of perspiration.
I studied his face as he talked, trying to decide if he was attractive, since Sylvie would likely demand details tomorrow. The way his hair swept across his forehead was quite charming in a boyish way. And his erudite style—gold-rimmed glasses and scarf slung loosely around his neck—reminded me of the owner of one of my favorite vintage book stores in Paris. But it was hard to make a definitive assessment when the light was so dim. I definitely didn’t find him unattractive. And I didn’t mind his company. Real-life romance was probably more of a slow burn than a cinematic lightning bolt. As a creature of habit, it usually took me a while to warm up to most new things, anyway.
“Sweet,” Sebastian said, stuffing the receipt in his pocket after performatively insisting on paying. “They forgot to charge us for one of the drinks.”
“Shouldn’t we say something to the server?”
“Nah—they should have paid closer attention.” He stood up and pulled on his coat. “Ready to go?”
“I’ll meet you out front,” I said, keeping my jacket over my arm. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”
I didn’t actually need to use the bathroom, but I spent a few minutes washing and moisturizing my hands with lotion from the chic amber bottles locked to the wall. As I navigated the throng of glamorous urbanites on my way back through the bar, our server—a lanky college kid—was clearing the empty glasses from our table. I slipped him a twenty-dollar bill on my way out.
Sebastian was leaning against the fire hydrant, scrolling through his phone. “All set?”
“Yes, I was just going to walk to the subway.” I really should’ve had a solid exit plan for this part of the night to preempt any awkwardness.
“Oh, I was going to take an Uber. I can drop you.” The vapor of his words sailed into the night.
“No, that’s fine—it’s super out of your way. The subway is only a block from here. Thanks, anyway.”
Sebastian twisted his scarf awkwardly. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” My attempt at assertive confidence came out slightly aggressive, but there was no way I wanted him to drop me at my house late at night, even if this was a date. That was too much pressure.
Sebastian nodded obediently. “Okay, cool—I’ll walk with you to the subway and call the Uber from there.”
Well, I couldn’t say no to a chivalrous gesture.
As we walked, Sebastian launched into a story about a college friend who had designed one of the new high rises in the neighborhood, but I couldn’t concentrate on his words. My pulse pounded in my ears and I felt a sudden urge to pee, despite having been fine moments earlier.
A handshake seemed too formal after three cocktails. Would he expect a hug? He was walking much closer to me than he ever had before. The uncertainty of it all made me want to break into a sprint. As the green bulbs of the subway entrance came into view, nervousness tumbled in my stomach. The blare of a passing siren—a sound I was generally immune to—felt irritating and chaotic against the shrill laughter of two women standing on the curb.
I wished I was at home on the sofa with my animals, watching someone else’s life play out on a screen—or through a window. I wondered what Julia and Reuben’s first date had been like. They always seemed so comfortable together, like the world existed only for them. I couldn’t imagine them being awkward.
“So, what do you think?” Sebastian was looking at me expectantly.
I was confused. “About what?”
“About the architecture?”
My cheeks flushed. “It’s great, I guess.”
We paused at the top of the subway stairs, dodging the commuters frantically descending in case the screeching arrival below was their train. Sebastian stood a few feet in front of me and I felt my back against the chilled metal of the entrance railing. For once, I was more uncomfortable with silence than he was.
“Well,” I started, “it was nice to see you.”
“Yeah,” Sebastian said softly. I was pretty sure he was looking at me intensely, but the reflection of the streetlights in his glasses made it impossible to read his expression.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. Instinctively, I stepped backward, but there was nowhere for me to go. His hand slid inside my open coat and rested on my waist. It felt cold even through my dress.
Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.
At first, I felt the urge to pull away. But then curiosity set in.