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Her eyes snap to mine again and I shrug a shoulder, pushing away from the bar. “I have a decent memory.” She used his name in a passing comment, but it stuck out to me.
Again, I have to tamper down the protective urges that course through me.
“Listen, Soph,” I say, double checking the condiments and making sure everything has date stickers. “If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s the asshole who cheated. Not you. That said, probably wasn’t the smartest thing to go get wasted after finding out, but I’m glad someone was there for you.”
“You.”
“Anyone here would have done the same,” I try brushing off.
“Walked me home?”
“Or gotten you into an Uber.”
“I don’t like—”
“Riding with strangers.” I wink at her. “You said.”
“I left nothing to the imagination, did I?”
“Oh. Definitely plenty left to the imagination,” I answer, leaving her at the bar to grab the mop bucket from the kitchen.
My imagination has run rampant since leaving her in her bedroom on Thursday night. I don’t make it a habit to walk patrons home.
Sophia is the first.
She may very well be the last.
I don’t know what prompted me to do it, but making sure she got home safely was important to me that night.
Then carrying her through her townhome to her bedroom...
I can still feel her in my arms.
More than all of that combined though, is the memory of her nightstand. When looking for a piece of paper to write on, I tried there first.
Sure, I found a small notebook and a pen, which I used.
But I’d also found a silicone, magenta dick-shaped vibrator.
So yeah. My imagination has been in overdrive where Sophia’s concerned.
I’d been positive that the next time I’d see her—if ever—would be at the complex. I’d contemplated spending time at each of the three pools, in hopes to get a glimpse of her again.
To get a chance to speak to her again.
She’s beautiful, sure, but I can’t say why, but IknowI’d get along with her well. She’d been reserved in comparison to her friends when I first met her.
More open, even if sad, when I met her the second time that same night.
Completely open and unabashed when I walked her home.
The multiple sides to Sophia I saw on Thursday alone, paired with the knowledge that some asshole cheated on her, had me imagining what I’d do to keep a woman like her.
And then she walked into O’Gallaghers today.
My mind completely on the woman at the bar, I don’t notice when Saint steps out of the office.
“She came back.”
