He did say Hidden Vines, right?

I fidget nervously with the stem of my wine glass on the table in front of me. Is twenty-four minutes too long of a wait for a date?

Yes. My thoughts answer for me.

I let out an agitated huff, and down the rest of my pinot. It's my third glass since I've arrived, and I'm starting to feel the chilly alcohol take its course through my veins. He probably just got held up by work again. He is a doctor; at least, that's what he told me.

I'm beginning to think that this man was too good to be true in the first place. What a waste of four months worth of conversation.

I flag the waiter down, yet again, and request another glass of white wine.

"Are you waiting on someone?" The waiter asks in a thick, French accent.

"No," I sigh, my hopefulness still lingering for a brief moment. "I guess I'm not."

His blue eyes flicker with embarrassment before saying, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait at the bar, then. We have other reservations." He explains sheepishly, gesturing to the group of expectant people near the front of the restaurant.

My cheeks flush a deep red, and I tuck a loose strand of my snowy-blonde hair behind my right ear before rising from my seat — a little unsteadily, I might add, because of the wine — and reach for my purse that I placed on the floor before I sat down. My balance falters for a millisecond, but clearly, that's all it takes for my bag to fall from my shoulder, sideswiping the newly-emptied wine glass from the table.

The cup crashes to the deck of the rooftop restaurant, and the loud sound of shattering glass fills the air with an artless noise.

Everyone turns to look, their senses overtaken by the racket that I've ensued. My face heats up again, and I mumble multiple apologies to the waiter as I stoop down to help clean up the mess.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," he says agitatedly, and I can tell he's more frustrated with my presence than the mess I've made.

I stand back up in order to make my escape to the bar, avoiding the strenuous eyes that follow me all the way to the other end of the restaurant. Upon arriving, I plop down on an empty stool, and try my best to calm my fast beating heart.

"Just a pinót noir, please," I ask the bartender, and exhale shakily. I've never been the best at public obscurities; almost every time I'm out, I draw some sort of unwanted attention. Just last week I met my friends at a lounge, and when I stood up to go to the women's restroom, a waiter passed by with a Bananas Foster. Needless to say, they had to make another dessert, and I had to change into a new shirt that wasn't on fire.

"Rough night?" A low voice sounds from beside me.

I let out a sigh before taking a sip from the glass of wine the bartender set before me, careful not to drop it. "You have no idea."

A deep, low chuckle. "Don't worry. We've all been there."

When I finally look at the man who's conversing with me, it's in disbelief.

The bar lights reflect off his dark, wavy, chestnut brown hair, making it seem lighter than it actually is. His green, hazel eyes flicker with amusement while he watches me intently, and his gray button down, and dark-wash denim compliment the atmosphere and his muscular build simultaneously.

I try to not let my eyes linger over his strong chest, or flit across his tense jawline, which is engulfed in a light, scruffy stubble.

He lifts an eyebrow at me, a smirk playing around the edges of his mouth, and I turn my gaze back to my drink.

"Hey!" A shout comes from behind me. I turn towards the direction of the voice, and instantly regret it. "Hey! You're that girl that caught on fire at Chopsticks last week! What a small world!"

I can feel the color draining from my face as the events transpire once again in my mind. I'll never be able to live that down.

"So how are you, Dragon Queen?" The man sneers, his eyes lighting up in amusement.

I eye the man incredulously, before rolling my eyes. "Ah, Dragon Queen. As in Daenerys Targaryen. Clever." I tell him, as I raise my drink into the air mockingly.

He cackles behind me drunkenly. "Yeah, and because your hair is so blonde, like hers!"

I groan under my breath as I take another sip of my wine. He didn't need to explain it further. It's definitely obvious if you've ever seen the show.

"Hey, man. Why don't you leave now before I have to ask security to escort you out for harassment." The chivalrous man pipes from beside me. "We're just trying to enjoy our date here."

I look at the man next to me skeptically as the intoxicated frat boy stumbles his way to the exit.

"Date, huh?" I inquire with a smirk.

He only smiles at me, and continues on in conversation. "So, what's an immensely attractive woman like yourself doing at a gaudy, rooftop bar alone on a Saturday night?" He questions.

I grin into my glass, and allow the sweet wine to slither its way down my throat. The buzz I'm getting from the alcohol creates a new wave of confidence that I normally don't have.

Immensely attractive? I almost laugh at the cheesiness of his pickup line, but decide to answer him anyway.

"What makes you think I'm alone?" I tease, pressing my lips together in order to hold back the smirk that just might break out over my face.

The edges of his mouth twitch, and he downs the rest of his whiskey before answering me. "I'm just being observant, that's all." His gaze is fixed on the icy blue of my eyes, and I know he must be able to see the lie that I'm harboring there.

"Okay, so I'm alone," I admit reluctantly. "But I'm sure you don't want to hear about some random person's pathetic romantic life."

He smiles a gorgeous, lopsided grin, and his eyes sparkle dangerously underneath the dim bar lights. "Humor me."

I look him over once; his demeanor isn't cocky, but he's definitely sure of himself. I think the word I'm looking for is confident. Which is something I'm not. I contemplate on whether I should share my troubles with a random guy at some random bar, I mean, he seems trustworthy but then again, so do sociopaths.

I decide to follow my gut, and swallow the insignificant small amount of worry that tells me something is a little off about him.

I bite down on my bottom lip. "I was supposed to meet someone here." I say with a blush.

He raises an intrigued eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Who's the lucky man? Or woman? I guess I shouldn't assume." He says with a dark chuckle.

I blush even more. "No, I'm not a — I mean, I'm straight," I clarify before telling him the whole story.

He smiles that cute, lopsided grin and his eyes glimmer in amusement.

I clear my throat. "There was this guy, James. We'd been talking to each other for awhile, and we were supposed to meet here for dinner but I got stood up," I say as neutrally as I can with a shrug. "I guess he just wasn't that interested."

His face is serious as he listens to me ramble about the man I've been chatting with online for the past four months, and when I'm done he just stares at me, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"What?" I ask, annoyed at him and myself. I knew I shouldn't have told a complete stranger my personal story.

He just shakes his head, and brings a large, tan hand up to his chin to scratch at his scruffy jaw. "Sounds a lot like you just got catfished."

I roll my eyes, and take another gulp from my wine glass. At this point, I'm going to need the whole bottle. "Look, I'm not dumb, okay? I know he was probably too good to be true. It's just the whole notion of it all. Why even ask me here if he wasn't planning on introducing himself? I mean, I'd like to think that I'm a pretty accepting person. I feel like we've known each other for ages, and honestly, I understand why some people don't put their real photos on their profiles. It's scary to date these days." I finish my rant, and when I look up from my glass, he's staring at me with the most appealing, and sexiest smirk I've ever seen.

I know I shouldn't be drinking this much, especially in the company of a random stranger, but I can't seem to find the rational part of my brain right now. It's like she's left the building, and her much more confident and sluttier sister has taken her place.

Is it just me, or is he sitting a lot closer to me than he was before?

Nope. I'm just leaning into him, because I'm definitely drunk.

"I'm sorry, I never even asked your name. What is it?" I say to him, attempting to keep as much of my dignity as I can by being civil.

"Isaac." He extends a hand out, a simple courteous greeting, as the corners of his mouth lift into a breathtaking smile.

I guess it's okay that James blew me off, because this guy is way hotter.

"Mia," I say, taking his hand into mine.

"Mia," he repeats, his smile widening. "That's beautiful."

Something wrenches in my stomach, and I'm very aware of how his subtle gaze, and sly smiles effect my body in a way that I have yet to decide if I like or not. I smile, and raise an eyebrow at him. "Do you say that to all the girls?"

He chuckles. Light, and yet somehow gruff and dangerous. It twists something deep inside me, and I squeeze my bare thighs together because it's such a sexy sound and it does things to my body that I probably shouldn't be feeling.

"No, just you." He admits as he looks into my eyes, a very sure grin on his face.

I roll my eyes, again. "Yeah right. You've probably got girls lined up to take you home." I say, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth there's no taking them back.

Slutty Mia has come out to play, and I'm not entirely sure how to rein her back in. I could start by not drinking anymore wine, and instead switch to water.

"I'm not really interested in any of them." His gaze is piercing, and suddenly, I feel like he's talking about me.

I try to read between the lines, but I'm not too good at it when I'm drunk. Instead I say, "You're hot, you know that, don't you?" Oops. Didn't mean to be that forward.

He laughs this time, and it's a beautiful, entrancing melody to my ears. Or maybe it's creepy and I'm just too drunk to tell.

"Okay, maybe you should switch to water now," he smiles, and he signals the bartender for a glass of tap.

"Awh. Fun-sucker." I say, and stick my tongue out at him. He smiles with his eyebrows raised, and a mischievous grin envelopes his face.

"Did you just call me a fun-sucker, Mia?" He asks, amused.

I nod my head, and scrunch my nose up at him.

"I'll have you know, I'm actually really fun. Like, too much fun," he retorts, and suddenly, I feel bold enough to come on to him.

"How about you show me then?" I suggest, raising an eyebrow and biting down onto my bottom lip as I twirl a loose strand of hair around my finger.

When in doubt, use the innocent approach. Almost all men fall for it.

His eyes become serious, and I can see a flicker of lust travel through his hazel-green irises. "I don't think that's such a great idea," he settles, and I almost gape at him. That always works for drunk and slutty Mia.

My bottom lip juts out into a plump, pink pout. Isaac's eyes linger on it for a little longer than necessary, and suddenly, I think I'm aware of what's going on. At least, as aware as my inebriated senses will let me be.

"Oh no," I groan, covering my eyes with my hands and feeling completely stupid.

"What is it?" He questions, worry furrowing his thick eyebrows together.

"Ugh, I am so stupid. You're gay, aren't you?" I sigh. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Wine usually makes me really horny, and I shouldn't have come on to you like that —"

"No, Mia," he starts with a laugh. "I'm not gay."

Dread seeps into my stomach, and the room starts reeling. Suddenly, I feel like puking.

Like, really.

I get up from my barstool and run to the nearest bathroom before I hurl my guts out all over the restaurant floor. It's a miracle I made it, too, compared to my track record. I don't vomit, thankfully, but I decide that it's time I give myself a little pep talk.

"You need to cool it, Mia," I say as I point at myself through the bathroom mirror. "Just because this man is super hot, doesn't mean you should act like a trashy whore. Keep your dignity."

When I reenter the restaurant, Isaac is still at the bar where I left him. He knits his eyebrows together, and places a large hand on the small of my back to help steady me as I sit back down onto the barstool.

"You okay?" He asks, his hand still on my lower back.

Is there supposed to be an electric current zapping its way through my body from his touch? I decide that it's probably from the wine, and shake the feeling away.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him. "That's what I get for drinking too much." I place my head in my hands on top of the bar, and hide my face from him as I gulp down as much water as I can from the glass in front of me.

"If you say so." His smirk is back.

"So what exactly are you doing here alone? I know you must have said no to several women who asked you out tonight." I rest my head in one palm now as I let my head fall to the side to look at him.

A low chuckle. "Actually, I own this restaurant."

The look on my face must be priceless because he actually laughs at my expression. "What? Surprised?"

I nod my head slowly. "Uh, yeah? I would have thought you were a doctor or something..." Why would I say that? Clearly James is still on my mind.

He smiles wryly before running a hand through his wavy, chestnut hair. "I own several, actually, in the Manhattan area. What about you? What do you do for work?" I open my mouth to answer, but he stops me. "No wait, lemme guess." He places a hand on his scruffy chin to scratch at the skin there before saying, "You're a photographer, and you have a gallery on 27th that specializes in black and white portraiture."

I stare at him with wide eyes. "H — how did you do that?"

He raises his eyebrows into the air. "No way," he says surprised.

"I mean, except for the street name, you hit the nail on the head with that one." I'm shocked. Am I really that basic that some random guy who doesn't even know me can guess what I do for a living?

Isaac can see the internal debate seeming to go on in my mind, and his eyes soften a little. He places a hand on mine, and I look deep into his golden-rimmed eyes. I don't know what it is, but I feel like I can trust him. I feel like he's not just some stranger and that maybe, just maybe, we were meant to meet here tonight.

"Don't be upset, it was just a lucky guess." He stares back at me, and it seems like we spend an eternity just looking at each other. I can feel the hum of electricity through our touching hands, and the warmth that encircles our proximate bodies. Suddenly, he removes his hand from mine.

I stare down at the empty space where it was just resting, somehow feeling colder because of it. Am I crazy to think that this meeting wasn't just chance?

"Isaac?" I ask, still staring at my hand that rests on top of the bar. His eyes never left mine, as I look up at him. "Don't freak out, but I feel like our meeting wasn't an accident."

He smiles a warm, kindhearted grin and seriously, my insides melt. "I know exactly what you mean."

We spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, passing the time by asking mundane questions, sharing subtle touches and intimate glances, until the restaurant is nearly empty. I glance at my watch, and the time reads 11:46PM.

"Uh. I uh, think I'd better go," I tell Isaac as I stand from my seat. "My business partner is expecting me at five tomorrow morning to get the studio set up for a creative session," I explain as I gather my things.

Isaac reaches for my hand before I can head out of the restaurant, stopping me in my tracks. "Wait, please," He begs, his eyebrows furrowing together in that sexy, concerned way. It takes everything I have not to literally melt into the floor beneath me. He reaches a gentle hand up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on my chin, and then his thumb brushes against my bottom lip. I shiver in response, my body giving away my true feelings.

He smirks knowingly at me, and leans in to whisper, "I swear if we keep touching each other here, we might set the entire restaurant aflame." His lips are so so close to me, just inches away from my neck where I can feel his cool breath, just a tickle against the skin that protects my throbbing pulse.

"I guess it wouldn't be such a surprise, since apparently I'm a Game of Thrones character," I mumble, my every nerve on edge as he runs a delicate finger down my arm. Goosebumps rise from his touch and my entire body caves towards him, wanting him, needing him.

He chuckles, a low gruff sound, and I look up into his eyes. There's desire and fear there, but I'm not sure which outweighs which. I decide to see for myself, and inch my mouth slowly toward his. I part my pink lips, and my eyelids flutter shut from the intense current that seems to be pulling me in to him.

"Mia," he breathes, before my lips touch his.

I open my eyes, and his are hooded, full of want and need and worry and frustration as he looks down at me from several inches above. He stands a full foot taller than me.

"I have to tell you something first. Something I've been wanting to tell you since I met you." Disappointment shrouds my senses, and suddenly I know that what he's about to say to me will change my opinion on him drastically.

I don't want to feel this way, I have to focus on my job and one night stands are hardly ever a good thing, but I feel like it's more than that. I want more than just sex, and I think he does too. Everything that happens in life seems to lead to another, more palpable occurrence, and I can't help but feel like I met James in order to meet Isaac. If he hadn't stood me up then I wouldn't have even given Isaac the time of day, and it just so happens that we have a lot in common, a lot going for the both of us.

I stare into those gold speckled irises now, and decide to not let the way of the world tell me what to do. If we have chemistry, then that's what we have. There's no denying it. And just because we both have goals and dreams, doesn't mean we can't pursue them together.

He inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of me before letting out a reluctant sigh. "My name isn't Isaac. It's James."

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Please don't forget to VOTE ⭐️ if you enjoyed my first short story!

What do you think will happen to Mia and James? Will she forgive him to lying to her over all these months? Or will they part for the night and go their separate ways? There's so many possibilities and I'd LOVE to hear what you guys want/think would happen!

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