His eyes dip to my midsection, where my hands clutch my purse like a lifeline.

His smile droops. “Are you leaving already?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to intrude on anything.” I glance behind him, looking for the leggy blondes.

“You aren’t intruding,” he says quickly. “Just stay for a little bit longer? I said I would buy you a drink, remember?”

“Oh, um.”

Anxiety whispers in my ear. You’re going to say something stupid. You have nothing to talk about. Nothing in common. He’s going to think you’re a weirdo. He probably already does. He feels bad for you and he’s nice and now he’s going to hate you.

I want to run. I want to hide.

But I have to remember the whole point of this. At least, what I think is the point. I can control me. If I do or say anything dumb, he won’t remember it anyway. I could jump up on the bar and yodel while beating my hands against my chest like an ape and no one would remember it tomorrow. Except me. And even knowing that to be the truth, it doesn’t stop the fluttering of my heart or the sweat in my palms.

“Yes. Sure. A drink sounds great. Um. Gin and tonic.”

He tells the bartender, ordering himself a beer, and we wait while the bartender gets our drinks. We stand side by side at the bar in silence. People jostle around us. More patrons file in through the front door.

Alex shifts toward me as more bodies crowd the bar.

He smells good. Like aftershave and soap. Simple. Clean. Much better than the cologne and beer filling the rest of the space. His scent is familiar since we’ve worked together and I’ve been this close to him before, sitting next to him in meetings and whatnot. But not like this. This is distinctly different.

We’re not in the office, we’re in a bar, having a drink together, and he’s talking to me instead of one of the many women he could be talking to. My heart pounds in my chest, a heavy hammer of doom. He could be with anyone but me. Except he’s not really with me. We’re standing here in silence.

Crap. I need to make conversation. My mind blanks.

The bartender puts a glass in front of me and I take a few long sips through the little straw.

This is one of the many reasons I avoid socializing. I have nothing of interest to contribute. I hate small talk. Most of the things my brain lands on are lame or boring or weird, and people look at me funny or immediately have somewhere else to be, someone else to talk to.