Hidden Feelings

~Nyla~

Long Beach, Californa 10:59PM

    I shouldn't be in this damn bar. I should be at my new apartment on West Ocean Blvd, snuggling up with my kitty. I should not be sitting on a bar stool, rejecting guys left and right, watching my friend Emily try to get dicked down for the 5th time in two weeks. I'm the new person in Long beach, I should not have to be subject to ensuring my friend gets home.

    Yet, here I am, watching my friend grind her ass on some random blonde on the dance floor.

    I didn't sign up for this.

    Instead of watching the traumatic sight of Emily seducing a guy, I turn to my phone. Apparently, there's lots of other good apartments in Long Beach, California. The 200 West Ocean apartment isn't the only great one I've seen. Shoreline Gateway is a nice one. It's got all the aspects of West Ocean, just a slightly different design. They both have windows in view of the city. It's such a sight to look at when the sun meets its end over the horizon.

    The Pets Allowed and Pool are what really caught my attention. It's always tough to find a place where you can have an animal. Mr. Meowzer might be an obvious exception, but I don't like having to break the rules. It's just not how I roll.

    As I scroll through the google searches I've currently looked through, a deep, rough voice echoes into my ears. "Mind if I sit?" My eyes shoot up to see the face of that deep, attractive voice that my ears have been subjected to.

    It's a tall, bulging muscular guy who's tatted from the arms up to the hidden skin of his tight shirt. His upper body is snuggly to the black fabric of his shirt, leaving me little imagination to what might be under it. As my eyes go lower, I can see how nicely his body fits those jeans. It's obvious his legs aren't as muscular as his biceps, but given how his thighs and calves look like they've endured twenty times more stairs than me and my entire volleyball career, he's no twig. Not that I mean to look, but he must have a cock down there. Not a dick, but an actual cock.

    He's hot, hot as fuck.

    My eyes quickly travel back to his face, my deep eyes behind my glasses meeting his lighter ones. "Not at all." I reply, letting him take his seat next to me on the bar stool. He fits out the wood perfectly, like his body is as strong as a bodybuilder, but not too big to look like one.

    He's still big and handsome nonetheless.

    I see him call the waiter over for a drink, even that looks hot. Everything this man does seems like something that could make a woman go feral. I mean, if it were me, I can't say I would mind.

   To ease my thoughts from going too deep into the rabbit hole of what would probably end in scenarios of me in his bed, I look back at my phone, attempting to look productive of some sort.

    "You alone or with someone?" The man asks, as I spot him glancing at me. Maybe me being on my phone isn't enough to get him off my back. Clearly, this isn't going to be a no and done. Not to mention, the way his eyes are on me the whole time catches my attention. Maybe he was trying to be subtle, but I catch things easily. The work of an introvert.

    "I'm here with someone." I reply, stuffing my phone in my jean pocket. As I turn to face him, I see his eyes meet mine. Something that I can seem composed about on the outside, but internally, I'm panicking.

    "You from here?" He asks, sipping the whiskey from the rocks he's just received from the bartender. "I've never seen you."

    "I'm not." I inform, and I want to cry from how awkward I sound. This is why I don't like going out into the world, bare with no friends at my side to steal all of the conversation.

    I catch his eyes narrowing softly in my direction over the nicely circled rim of his glass His eyes are sharp, almost like daggers if you look at them the wrong way. It's a little scary, to say the least.

    "Where's a pretty girl like you from?" He asks as he settles the glass down on a coaster labeled James' Bar. The way he licks his lips of any loose remnants makes me need to look away. His lips are nice and full, clearly attractive like the rest of him.

    "Ohio." I reply.

    "Midwest?"

    "Exactly."

    He nods his head slowly, as if drinking in the information I'm giving him. "What made you move to The Golden State?" He asks again, his eyes looking at me a little more. As I look harder than I need to, I see some genuine interest in his questions. Funny, because all the other guys who've tried to come up to me were either drunk guys or intimidated sobers who wanted to get my clothes off. He seems different, and I like that.

    I try to think more on his question, trying to come up with an answer. If I actually knew, I would've been quick to speak already. But I don't. I don't know why I moved to California. All my friends and family are in Ohio, so why would I move away in the first place. I've never lived anywhere except in the Midwest, and being somewhere such a polar opposite is something that I never would've considered as a child.

    Though, I will say it does feel nice to have some more freedom. I don't have to go to family reunions where I don't know half the people, or know the pain of having to see the same things everyday. For me, Cali is a new start, a fresh glass of water for me to drink out of. Maybe me being subjected and dragged into things like the bar is a common factor between California and Ohio, but that isn't the point.

    "I actually don't know." I reply as I grab my own condensing glass of water, bringing it to my lips. The man at my side makes a hum sound. He must've figured out that I damn well can not elaborate on why I don't know, and I appreciate that he won't ask. The less we talk, the better it is for me and social awkwardness.

    "Well, if you ever need a look around Long Beach, I'm here to help." A smirk creeps on his lips, a crazy sexy one. It's almost terrifying how hot this man can look so easily. "I'm Jay, by the way." He says, his large hand reaching out to mine. I set my glass down on my own coaster, letting his large hand envelop my own.

    The difference between his and mine makes me shudder a little. His hand basically cups mine perfectly, if not more. "I'm Nyla." I reply to him. With a smile, he reaches behind to his jean pockets once we release. "How about phone numbers?" He asks as he takes out a back iPhone 15. I smile at his suggestion. "Good idea."