Maybe

It was that damn look, all sweet and puppy dog eyes and brimming with all that goddamn possibility.

Because it’s that pull, isn’t it? That tiny voice in the back of our heads whispering maybe...

Maybe.

The curls were what cinched it for me. Dark brown curls over eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee and a boyish grin to match.

I relented. After all, we’re only young once, right? Might as well have a little fun. I smiled back. I nodded at the bartender who poured a shot of limoncello courtesy of the dark handsome stranger sat beside me. “Alright, fine, one drink.” I turned towards him. “What’s your name again?”

“Theodore.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That is a made up name if I ever heard one.”

He laughed. An easy laugh of a boy who has never had anything truly bad happen in his life. “It’s not! You can call me Ted. But let’s get to the more interesting part. What’s your name?”

I briefly considered giving a fake name, but decided against it. Maybe it was the limoncello in my veins. “Bethany.”

“Nice to meet you, Bethany.” Theodore’s voice was soft, pleasant. “You make it a habit to visit hole in the wall bars in the middle of the day?”

“That sounds accusatory.”

“I’m just truly curious.”

“What are you doing here on a Tuesday afternoon?” I shot back.

“Well... I just quit my job.” He paused. “On impulse. Today.”

I cocked an eyebrow, amused. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I really did.” He ran his hands through his hair. A nervous habit? It was kind of adorable. “I was just sitting there, thinking, what am I doing? This is not what I want to do. Life is too short! And then I just packed my stuff, told my asshole boss I quit, and I left.”

“I think I should be the one buying you drinks.” I said, shaking my head. This guy was proving to be more interesting than I expected.

“Have you heard of the five second rule?” He asked.

“Um, is that about eating something that you dropped on the floor?”

He burst out laughing. He had one of those infectious laughs and I couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, no. It’s a way of living. It’s the idea that after you decide on doing something, you count to five and you have to act on it in five seconds so you don’t change your mind and chicken out.”

I nodded. “Okay, I get it. Like once I decide I’m going to exercise, I give myself five seconds to get out of bed? That kind of thing?”

“Exactly. Except I kind of do it for everything.”

“Like quitting your job.”

“Yes.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, unconvinced. “I don’t know, sounds kinda extreme to me.”

“Not really, it’s very freeing. You should try it sometime.”

“Let me guess, you’re single, and your parents are loaded. They can spot you cash anytime you need so you don’t have to worry about a paycheck. Am I warm?”

Theodore looked momentarily offended but then smiled as if to concede I was right. “I feel attacked.”

I laughed. “It’s okay, Theodore. I still like you.”

—

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

I held the syringe containing Versed and Ketamine tightly in my right hand. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Theodore was the perfect mark. Loaded parents. Single. No kids.

It should have been easy-peasy. A hug in front of my apartment after he agrees to walk me home. A push on the syringe. Goodnight, see you later, and I’ve got half a million dollars payday in ransom by the end of the week, tops.

But I couldn’t do it.

I was not normally this soft, but there was just something about his puppy dog eyes and the way he runs his hand through his curls like he was doing now.

Oh god damn it. Never fall for your mark. That’s gotta be the number one rule in this business. But here I was, syringe in hand, duct tape and nylon zip ties in my purse, a soundproof room ready in my apartment, and Theodore was still wide awake and smiling in front of me at my apartment door.

“Um, Bethany?”

I must have been standing there for too long. Longer than five seconds, that was for sure. How did Theodore live his life like this? I gave him my best innocent schoolgirl smile. “Want to come in for a cup of coffee?”

His smile widened as he nodded and I led him in.

I was going to have a tough decision tonight. Maybe I won’t do it. Maybe this time it would be different.

Maybe.

–