Your Name

I took the glass of water and drank deeply, trying to cool the fire inside me, not just the alcohol, but the heat he ignited within me... That single wink.

I avoided his gaze, focusing instead on our surroundings, the glass in my hand, anything but him.

'I am not going to sleep with him. There is no way I’m going to sleep with him. No. Nada. Never.'

I repeated it in my head like a mantra. I shouldn't let him into my head like this. I couldn’t. That’s what I focused on, just drinking the water and staying grounded.

We sat in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was easy. The kind of quiet that wraps around two people when words aren’t needed. Just presence and shared space. It felt... peaceful.

I noticed he hadn’t ordered another drink. He was still slowly sipping the same glass of whiskey like he wasn’t in a rush for anything. Like he was perfectly content just being there.

Eventually, I stood up. “Excuse me,” I said softly and walked toward the restroom.

Under the mirror, I gave myself a pep talk.

'You’ve had enough for the day. Enough wine. Enough emotions. Enough of trying to be something for someone else. You’re going to get through this. And you are not going to fall for a stranger who smells like sin and looks like a secret you want to keep forever.'

I exhaled and returned to the table.

That’s when I saw him pulling out his wallet, removing a sleek, black card. I didn’t think. I rushed over and snatched it from his hand.

His head turned toward me in surprise, but his expression melted into a smile, amused and entertained.

“What are you doing?”

“You can’t pay,” I said firmly. “I asked you here. This is my treat. I’m paying.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t have any money.”

“Not of my own,” I replied quickly, chin high, heart racing. “But still, everything Ryan has belongs to me. Even though it’s not in my name, it’s still my money.”

I looked at the card in my hand and added, “I’m paying.”

I wanted to know his name. His card was still in my hand, so I flipped it over and began to read it aloud.... just a little sneak peek.

But he moved fast. Before I could get past the first syllable, he snatched it from my fingers.

"Your name is Marcus," I said anyway, a teasing smile curling on my lips.

That caught him off guard. His shoulders stiffened, and for a beat, he looked like I’d punched him instead of guessed his name.

His reaction confused me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, studying his expression.

“Nothing,” he said, but his tone wasn’t as smooth as before. “I just… didn’t know you were that quick.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, grinning with a tilt of my head. “Seems like I won.”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, “you did win. Now you know my name.”

“Yeah. Now I do. I guess that puts us on even ground, doesn’t it?”

He looked at me then, really looked and there was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite read. Something tight and cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted me to have known. Like he was surprised by how easily I’d said it. Like the name, Marcus carried more weight than I understood.

“So you’re not mad?” he asked carefully. “You’re cool with it?”

I laughed. “Why would I be uncool about your name? You told me to earn it, and I did. Fair and square. You didn’t even have to tell me what it was. So no, Marcus... I’m not mad.”

He smiled then, a real one that reached his eyes, and said, “All right, Monique.”

“Yes, Marcus,” I echoed, letting the name roll off my tongue.

“So… where are you headed?”

I hesitated. My fingers hovered over my purse as I pulled out my card, and placed it on the table. But as soon as the question left his lips, it hit me.

I had nowhere to go. That realization made me laugh out loud, shaking my head in disbelief.

“I have nowhere to go,” I admitted, my voice light but my heart heavy.

“Not even a friend?” he asked, brows drawn slightly together.

“I think… I think I’m just going to check into a hotel,” I said. “Until I figure something out.”

He nodded, not pushing. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah. Right.” I sighed.

The waitress returned my card, and we stood up together.

Side by side, we walked out into the cool night air—just two strangers, suddenly knowing each other's names, carrying secrets, and breathing in the space.

“Did you drive here?” he asked, voice low and casual.

“Yes,” I said, pointing across the parking lot. “That’s the car I came with.”

I started to walk ahead, but he gently placed his hand on my arm, stopping me with just a light touch.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to drive,” he said with a raised brow.

I laughed, brushing it off. “I think I’ll just get an Uber.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” he said, his voice smoother now. “I didn’t really drink. I can drive you to the hotel.”

I hesitated, the voice in my head suddenly chiming in with warnings. You don’t really know him. He could be anyone. But then again… we’d been at that restaurant a while. People saw us. There were cameras. If something happened to me, he’d be the first person they’d question. I studied his face again. Calm, composed, and patient.

I smiled. “That would be wonderful.”

We walked together toward his sleek, black car. He opened the door for me and helped me with my seatbelt, this ridiculously thoughtful gesture that made my cheeks warm. I found myself smiling more than I meant to.

Then he got into the driver’s seat and turned to me. “So, where do you want to go? What hotel?”

“Any hotel, really. I don’t have a preference.”

“Alright then.” He nodded, merging into traffic and heading toward the city lights.

Eventually, we pulled up outside a hotel, nice, clean, respectable. Not flashy. He got out, rounded the car, opened my door like a perfect gentleman, handed his keys to the valet, and took my hand in his as we walked inside.

I booked a room. No hesitation. Just did it. Room card in my hand, I turned to him, feeling that bittersweet twinge in my chest. Something about ending the night felt a little… hollow.

He gave me a soft smile, warm and casual. “Okay then. Since you’re safe and sound, I’m going to go.”

I blinked. “No, wait…”

He tilted his head, curious.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” I asked before I could stop myself.