Imported | On Hold |

0.3

In hindsight, I think the snarky comment could probably have gone a lot worse, but between the stress of Gabbie's persistence and seeing Garrett across the room, I really couldn't have expected more from myself. His eyes glimmered behind his glasses — he'd been drinking. But he seemed even more beautiful than he'd looked in the coffee shop and, oh, Jesus I should probably say something because he isn't saying anything he's just looking at me like a kicked puppy —

"I uh, I mean—" and then he just giggles at me, and truthfully, genuinely I have never heard a more beautiful sound.

"It's fine, Andrew, I know what you meant." Gabbie nudges me under the table and raises an eyebrow and I clear my throat.

"Oh, Garrett, sorry. This is Gabbie."

"Haha, I know. Our friend Shane introduced us. How do you know her?"

"I lived with her friends for a little while and we just kept hanging out after I got my own place." More like she just kept bugging me, but—

"Well, boys, my drink is empty and I think I see Scotty by the bar so I'll leave you two to it." I let myself let out a breath when she walks off and I can feel Garrett's eyes on me.

"We all have that reaction to Gabbie. Don't worry." He gives me a soft smile and I can't help but return it. I sip my water and he sips his gin and we sit for a moment in silence.

"I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air, care to join?" I nod immediately and get up, leaving my water on the table.

"You don't talk much, do you, Andrew?" He asks when we'd sat on the bench beside each other.

I blush and shake my head but feel less embarrassed when he chuckles.

"Don't worry. I can talk enough for the both of us."

I chuckled and looked up at him, noticing him, truly, for the first time since we'd met. He has nice features, a strong jaw with soft edges and broad shoulders.

"I just never have anything very interesting to talk about, I guess." I didn't mean to say that, oh no, now it looked like I was fishing for compliments. Garrett frowns.

"That can't be true. Here, I'll prove it. Where are you from?" My eyebrows furrow and my nose scrunches.

"Chicago, why?"

"See, that's something interesting. Did you like it there?" And I could tell he was genuinely interested, not just making conversation.

I shrug in response. "It's alright. I like my family so I never mind going back for them, but it's one of those cities that you have to really belong to stay there."

He smiles and my stomach does a little flip and I smile, too.

"Is that why you moved to LA?"

No one had ever asked me that, and I didn't expect it, so I hadn't really come up with an answer to it. I thought for a moment.

"I just needed something different, I think. Chicago is nice and I love it, but I didn't want to spend the rest of my life there, and LA was just the most logical choice. I had a background in film and I figured I could come out here, get started somewhere small and then move my way up to directing. But that was 6 months ago and I've had 2 jobs." My voice is small. Did I really just admit all of this to him? He didn't want to hear this.

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. It's desperately time for a haircut, but I can't afford it right now.

"Andrew, I think this is a drunk conversation, my friend."

I giggle and shrug. "I'm good, really." I try to deflect the conversation, but he insists.

"Let me buy you a drink, Andrew." He winks after this and my stomach knots up, but I only nod.

Not a moment later it feels like and he's back, holding a refreshed Gin and Tonic and something dark in his other hand.

"I noticed you drinking something different earlier, so I just got you a Gin. Is that okay?"

I nod again and take it from him. "Thanks."

"So, what great, wonderful thing has kept you in LA?" My eyebrows furrow in confusion and he just shakes his head.

"Don't give me that look. There has to be something besides your anti-Chicago mindset that kept you in LA. What is it?" I want so desperately to tell him I just can't afford to fly home, but then that would mean me having to tell him why I have no money which would lead to the obvious 'Let me buy you a plane ticket,' and I just need a normal friend who doesn't think I'm mooching off of them all. The. Time.

"I told my mom I wouldn't come home until I knew I couldn't make it in LA." This isn't a lie; in fact, I'm nearly ready to give up.

Garrett smiles at my answer, but I can tell he understands my frustration.

"It took me a year and a half, Andrew. Just listen to your gut. Your real gut, not the scared one."

***

Letting Garrett buy me a drink turns from a single drink into four quickly. He's easy to talk to, brings good conversation; he can read people. So, when I look around the bar for Gabbie who is nowhere to be seen, I silently curse my luck. The tow bill and uber ride from earlier had drained my bank account and I know the check from the freelance videography gig I'd gotten the day before hasn't hit yet.

My phone is dead. Fuck.

I must say this out loud because suddenly Garrett appears behind me.

"Need a ride?"

And well, if I weren't so drunk or if he wasn't so beautiful, I would say no.

But here I am, and there Garrett is and I hear myself murmuring "okay," against my better judgment.

Garrett helps me into the car and doesn't even say anything when my eyes go hooded. He only hands me his phone and instructs me, in a slow quiet voice (bless him) to press in my address.

It's a quick drive from the bar and we don't talk much other than Garrett pointing out YouTubers' houses.

I instruct him to pull in to my subdivision beside one of the nicer houses and he smiles at me.

"I had a good time tonight, Andrew." And if my early suspicions about this being a date were right, then this quiet affirmation only makes me happier.

"You don't have to wait on me, Garrett. My roommates will worry because there's a car outside."

"I just want to make sure you get inside all right."

I wince to myself but smile at him, praying my neighbors don't hate me for what I'm about to do.

"Oh, thank you. Okay, well, I had a good time too," I reply and blush, thanking God that it's 2 am and the streetlights are dim enough to conceal my red cheeks.

Climbing out of the car, I wave back at him, something little so that he sees it. I glance on either side of the street before I'm running across, pulling my keys out of my coat pocket (that I know will not open this door) and pray the residents don't have a gun.

I fumble with the keys for a second before I sigh and hit my head against the door. A second later and Garrett is rolling up behind me.

"Let me take you home, Andrew. I have a very nice futon bed. It can be all yours and I'll drive you home in the morning."

I contemplate waiting it out until he leaves and sprinting the 3 blocks to my house in the dark, or going home with a kind stranger who offers to buy me drinks and let me sleep on his futon.

The choice is obvious.

"As long as you don't kill me."