It had been a week since I'd seen him, and my dreams had been as vivid as the night I'd met him.
His sparkling, chestnut brown eyes, his long, black, glistening hair, the way his lips curled into the most beautiful smile, revealing a set of perfectly lined teeth. And let's not mention that left-side incisor that filled my dreams with visions of him biting into my neck, as well as the fact that I really should get off the vampire movies.
Urgh, was he really so stunningly gorgeous, or is my lonely mind simply embellishing? This is crazy.
I was a mature thirty-two-year-old, and 'mother' to a fifteen-year-old boy; dreaming of a hot romance with Jamie was out of the question. He was way too young and, regardless of any embellishments, way too handsome to be a serious prospect, still he was the main urge for me to revisit the Noir's that Sunday night.
The usual sea of faces were scattered around, all engaged in friendly chatter and laughter as they awaited the first act of the night, while I sat in my regular spot, alone and sipping on a Watermelon Redbull mojito.
An amateur comedian was up first. He was a new one, or at least I hadn't seen him before, but then I never really came on comedy nights. I wasn't much of a fan of stand-up comedians. I found they overused material too much, and they could get a little X-rated sometimes too, which I never felt comfortable with, especially in a crowd of people.
The comedian started his act with some short openers and questions as he got the feel of the audience. He seemed comfortable building a rapport with everyone and quickly found a target for his first punchline. It was a ginger-haired man up the front, who squirmed in his seat and did his best to edge away from the brunette sitting next to him. Apparently, she wasn't his girlfriend although the comedian had been convinced she was due to their extra touchy interaction as they watched him. This started a series of quick-fire jokes about a secret love affair, and weren't they lucky that Noir's rarely filmed the events as he wouldn't be responsible for said man to be in any kind of trouble if his girlfriend were to see the show.
That was another reason I rarely watched stand-up comedians; I hated the awkwardness that sometimes came from audience members being targeted, or maybe I was just terrified of being targeted one day myself. This particular comedian did a good job of keeping everything light and the awkwardness at bay, and followed up a lot of his roasts with, 'I'm just joking, don't believe everything a comedian says,' which made me wonder if the first couple really were being overly friendly, or if he was covering up for them.
"Care for another?" Owen asked when the first act was over.
I spun around in my chair to face him, pushing my empty cup towards him. "I don't know. I'm thinking of heading out."
I wasn't exactly a regular, but I did spend enough evenings to have built up somewhat of a friendship with him. He furrowed his brow deeply and took the stance he usually did when he was about to convince someone to stay a while longer and catch the rest of the show, but in mid-preparation of his speech, his eyes shifted to something over my shoulder.
"So early?" A familiar voice asked from behind me.
"Oh," my words faltered as I turned and caught Jamie's gaze. "You're here."
"Yeah," he said, taking the seat next to me. "I hope that didn't come across as stalkerish. I was coming over to say hi, and I heard you telling Owen you were about to leave. Sooo ..."
"Oh, I didn't think anything like that."
"Are you sure?" he said, leaning in closer. "I kinda got from our last meeting that you tend to overthink a little."
He's so close, was literally all I could think, as well as the fact that he smelt so good. What is wrong with me?
"Er, yeah," I said with a small laugh. "I guess that's me."
"So," he continued and straightened back up in his seat. "About you heading out now, could I persuade you to stick around a while? Maybe, finish the show?"
I let out another laugh. "Is Owen paying you?" I asked and wondered at the same time if, in fact, he was a friend of Owen's who simply tried to help keep the seats filled during the shows.
"I don't know," he said before turning to Owen. "What do you say?"
Then it was Owen's turn to laugh. "Sorry mate, but as much as I love Veronica's company, I can't pay you for just one customer."
Jamie gave a thoughtful 'Oh' and looked around the café just as a group of young women prepared to leave. "How about if I get them to stay? Would that earn a free drink for me and Veronica?"
"It was a joke, Jamie," I said and reached out to grip his arm. "You don't have to do that." But the excited gleam in his eyes indicated that he was enjoying taking on the challenge rather than just trying to continue a poor joke.
"It's fine," Owen directed at me, his own eyes filled with a similar gleam as he turned back to Jamie. "You've got ten minutes before the next act starts. If you can get them to order drinks, I'll give you and Veronica one on the house."
"I'm on it," Jamie said and, with a wink of his eye, walked over to the group.
I should have known it would be easy for Jamie, looking how he looked, to fill half of the girls with giggles and flushed cheeks almost as soon as he approached them. He had, after all even had me smitten with such a smoothness that was just as innocent as it was potently desirable, and I hadn't been able to think of anything else for the whole week since.
Get a grip, Veronica, I scolded myself as I watched him comb his hair behind his ear whilst leaning in to hear what one of the girls was saying. He was so much more suited with girls his age than little old me, we would never work.
But then, as Jamie turned to gesture that he would only be a minute more, I couldn't help but succumb. Was it really that bad of me to enjoy his attention? It wasn't like I got that kind of attention often. It was just harmless fun. I mean, we were both adults, right?