Only You

It had been three years, two months, and eleven days since Jaxon died but somehow, Olivia still found traces of him in the apartment that they had shared together. Pictures of happier times on top of the fireplace, the dent in the wall from their fight at Thanksgiving, his shirt in the back of the closet that she just couldn't bring herself to throw away... It was endless. It seemed like every corner she turned, there was another cold, constant reminder of his death.

Then there was the ring. The bright diamond ring that Olivia had discovered months after the accident which she now always wore around her neck. Of all the reminders, this was the biggest and most painful. With each twinkle, she caught a glimpse of the life they would have had together: a yellow-bricked house somewhere upstate enclosed by a white fence and two (or four, as Jaxon usually interjected) children running around in the small backyard. Yet, in the same stride, it shattered her dream, propelling Olivia back into her hard reality.

Life after Jaxon involved many sleepless nights, a vodka tonic every other night and a lot of melancholic reminiscing. And all this happened on the nights when she wasn't at a bar or a club, trying to feel something, anything, with someone...

On one particularly cool June night, she stumbled into El Fuego, looking for her next victim. Already buzzed from the cranberry vodka shot she had downed at the club across the street, she plopped herself firmly on the barstool. She eyed the bartender. He wasn't her usual type but there was something about this night that felt different, that made her want to try something different.

She had created a few boundaries for her extracurricular activities, and pursuing the bartender, was definitely one of them. She found that getting involved with bartenders only led to awkward run-ins, post hook-up, as she was picking up someone else at their bar. It made her feel things she didn't need to feel and it cheapened things somehow.

So, okay, maybe not the sexy bartender. She instead settled on asking him to fix her a drink: Whiskey, neat. She needed a break from the vodka. Swirling around the contents of her drink, she took a small sip. Her eyes scoured the room and landed at the front door where a handsome six-foot man had just walked in with a brown leather jacket that was almost as dark as his Ivy League-cut hair. His eyes searched the room and met hers. She looked away but not before she flashed him a flirty smile. And thus, the events of the night were set into motion.

They exchanged looks all night, each of them signaling the other to approach but not willing to make the first move. It was a tango, an intense dance of passion and pure lust. A mating ritual of sorts.

It was now thirty minutes to closing time and Ivy League, as Olivia had already dubbed him, sauntered over to her. When he drew closer, she noticed his hazel eyes as they sparkled under the dim bar lighting. Light brown, just like Jaxon's. Like a chemical chain reaction, she immediately caught her breath and her heartbeat grew irregular. She took a swig of her drink to calm her nerves.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," she coyly replied.

"So, I've seen you checking me out all night and I figured I would come here and introduce myself," said Ivy League in a deep, smooth voice.

"I've been checking you out? Huh. So that's how it is?"

"Hey, I never claimed it wasn't mutual. But where are my manners? I'm Nolan. Nolan Bennett," he said, extending his hand.

She took his hand. "Liz," she lied. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett." And just like that, the deal was sealed.

* * *

The brass keys jiggled against the lock until the door finally gave way. Olivia leaned against it as she pulled on Ivy League's neck, pressing his lips onto hers. They shuffled around, attempting to make their way to her plush beige couch. She started to unzip his pants but his hands found hers and lightly swatted them away.