Paper Trails 2 | Draft

40.

"I can do this. And even if I can't, I have to."

*****

I decided to go out.

Neila Abrams was finished with Niccolò Di Vio, and to prove it, she would go to a club, meet a guy (a nice, normal American guy) and start over.

I considered Tinder, but that would've taken too long. I wanted to start now. I wanted to get out there. There are billions of guys out there, and any one of them could be what I needed to move on. I went out alone, (Raven was sleeping by the time I got back to the apartment) dressed in a skin tight black dress and heels that would kill my feet tonight.

I went back to Fix, the nightclub Raven sometimes bartended at. It was already crowded by the time I got there, which was unsurprising since it was pushing eleven o'clock. I headed to the bar and sat on an empty stool, plopping my purse on the counter.

The bartender smiled at me. "Can I getcha?"

"Long Island Iced Tea would be great, thanks."

He smiled, nodded, and went to making it. I turned in the seat, my eyes scanning the crowd. A lot of people were on the dance floor, dancing and singing along to some song. I turned back in time to see him putting the tall glass on a napkin in front of me.

"Thank you." I took a sip.

He flashed me another grin before going to tend to someone else.

The first ten minutes went back slowly with me sipping my drink. I'd caught the eye of a few guys but none of them came over. Well, one did...but he smelled like onions and cheese and it was a turn off. I'd ended up turning him away quickly. By the time I finished my drink, I was feeling slightly buzzed and hadn't talked to any guy worth talking to.

And then I saw him at the end of the bar. He was looking at me, a small smile playing on his lips. My heart hammered in my chest. Roman. I sat up, blinking.

No. Not Roman. Just someone who looked like him. He stood up and started making his way towards me. The closer I got, the more I began to realize there were some obvious differences between him and Roman. For one, his eyes were green—not at all like Roman's icy blue orbs. Plus he was smaller in frame.

"Hey," he smiled, leaning against the counter. American, not Russian. "Buy you a drink?"

He'd startled me, and I was ready to turn him down, but stopped. He's not Roman. He's not Niccolò. He's cute. Just let the guy buy you a drink.

I nod.

"You okay?" His eyebrow furrows and he raises two fingers, gaining the bartender's attention.

"Yeah," I smile. "You just, uh, look like someone I knew."

"Ah. Old friend?"

"Something like that."

"What are you drinking?"

"I'll have tequila.

He nodded and turned to order our drinks. "Tequila. And, uh, whiskey on the rocks."

The bartender nodded and placed two glasses in front of us.

"I'm Brandon."

I placed my hand in his. "Neila."

"Very nice to meet you. Come here often?"

"Not really." I picked up the glass of tequila amd took a sip, the alcohol burning my throat on its way down. "But tonight's a special occasion."