A Hotel Bar
A/N: Thanks to ariz0na for her prompt for the Lost Summer 2023 Challenge! This was actually inspired by Closer by The Chainsmokers. I hope you all enjoy!
Also– Christmas Challenge Sign up! We're hosting a Secret Santa for Lost Fics! If you want to join on AO3, please leave a comment letting me know!
—-
The heavy, acrid cloud of cigarette smoke hung low in the air above Juliet's head. It clogged her senses, burning her eyes and nose, but she had nowhere else to go. The bar was crowded, and the overweight man beside her wasn't the only one lighting up between sips of bourbon or brandy, or whatever sickeningly sweet liquor its patrons were consuming.
She should just leave. She could go home, where she knew for a fact that Ed wasn't. Or, perhaps she could be a real martyr and ask for a room on the 12th floor, and surround herself with the sins that weren't even hers. Perhaps she'd get lucky and end up in the room next door. Hear the evidence of the rat bastard's annoying whines when he came much too fast for someone his age.
Her face was blank as she looked around the room. A young man, dark-haired and in his 20s, sat at the bench in front of the piano. He pressed on a few keys, ensuring the piano was in tune. (But of course it was - this was a piano bar, in a five-star hotel, no less. It was probably always in tune.)
She waved a hand absently in front of her face, trying to clear some of the smoke away before she sipped on her own glass.
"Hey there! Why didn't ya save me a seat?" a voice called out, and even though it was close, she didn't recognize it, so she didn't look up. Then she felt a polite nudge against her shoulder, and her eyes snapped up, startled by the contact.
A tall, shaggy-haired man stood before her, in all his tight, leather-jacketed glory. He had dimples the depth of the Grand Canyon and a smile that knocked the wind right out of her lungs. "I'm sorry?" she asked, voice cracking in surprise.
He winked at her, and tapped the large man beside her on the shoulder. "Sorry for botherin' you, sir, but see - this is my date. Mind scootin' down one so we can sit together?" His voice was smooth and velvety, deep and unhurried. His thick, honeyed, Southern accent invaded her senses almost more aggressively than the cigarette smoke.
"Whatever," the man rumbled, and scooted down a seat, taking his cigarette with him. The air cleared, and the tall, beautiful man sat on the stool beside her. Now all she could smell was his cologne. It was a welcomed change.
"Thank you," she laughed behind her glass. Now she realized what he was doing, especially as he waved his hand animatedly above her head to clear the air.
"You're very welcome, darlin'. You looked like you were gonna hurl, all that smoke in your face."
"You're not wrong," Juliet sighed, wrapping both hands around her crystal glass. She pursed her lips, eyes roving over him. His broad shoulders and biceps flexed beneath his jacket as he set his elbows on the bar. He stuck a hand out to get the bartender's attention and ordered a whiskey, neat. It was so… manly of him, it made Juliet blink up at him in wonder. Ed's drink of choice was always a Cosmopolitan. Whoever this man was, he didn't remind her of Ed in any way.
"You smoke?" she asked, not quite sure why she was continuing conversation with this stranger. It was unlike her, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. He didn't seem bothered by the chain smoking man on his other side.
The soft, melodic notes from the piano and light chatter from the room did nothing to hide the deep chuckle rumbling from the man's chest. "I ain't proud of it, but…" He shrugged, and swiveled in his seat to face her. He grinned sheepishly, and Juliet clutched her drink harder. She had to actively prevent herself from running her fingers over the light scruff on the man's face.
The bartender brought the man's drink, and he took a light sip, unflinching from the burn. "What's your name?" he asked, eyes narrowed as he proceeded to drink in the sight of her, too. She could feel prickles on her skin as his eyes roamed from her face, to her chest - hidden under her white cashmere sweater - and even, boldly, down to her bare legs folded in front of her. She felt the sudden need to tug down her black skirt, even though it already covered her knees. When his eyes landed back on her face, she knew for a fact her cheeks were flaming pink.
Juliet debated his question. She could give him any name in the world, and he'd be none the wiser. They'd talk - or hell, maybe they wouldn't - and then continue on with their lives without ever thinking of the other again.
She almost lied. But she didn't quite see the point. He'd forget her name after tonight, anyway.
"Juliet," she said, and finished the last sip of her drink. "Yours?"
The man gave her a wry, tight-mouthed smile. His eyes sparkled, and he dipped his head, considering. She wondered if perhaps he was telling himself the same thing.
"Sawyer," he responded, and took a much bigger sip of his drink. He waved his hand absently at the room beyond. "Business or pleasure?"
His question wiped the shy smile from her mouth. She could feel herself frown, as the tightness in her stomach returned. "Neither," she answered, her voice low and pained. The man, Sawyer, frowned back.
He signaled for the bartender again. "Can the lady get another…" He turned to look at her.
"Rum and coke, please," she said, clearing her throat afterwards. She hadn't intended on having more than one drink. But now that she was here, she realized she didn't really want to go anywhere else. Home wasn't an option, not with their things scattered about and photos of Ed hung up on the walls. Rachel was out of town, and Juliet didn't feel comfortable dropping in on friends at this time of night.
This was as good a place as any, to drink away her feelings with a stranger whose eyes reminded her of starlight.
"Ya seem like ya need it," Sawyer said, pulling her out of her thoughts.
She shrugged, sighing, "Maybe I do."
"Someone break your heart, Blondie?"
Juliet snorted. "Is it that obvious?" She wished the bartender would hurry up with her drink. She needed something to keep her hands busy.
"Husband?" Sawyer asked, and Juliet's eyes flashed. He pointed to her hands resting in her lap, where she was now fiddling with her ring. "Sorry. Just assumed."
She pursed her lips, saying nothing. A moment passed, and the bartender dropped off her drink. She took a large gulp, eyes watering from the sting of the alcohol pooled at the top.
"Hey now, take it easy. Didn't mean to make ya upset." He rested a warm hand on her shoulder, and a small gasp escaped her burning mouth. "Just, ya know… saw a pretty girl, sittin' here in a hotel bar all alone… Guess it's easy to jump to conclusions."
Juliet looked down into her drink. "You a detective?"
He stiffened and removed his hand. "No. Why?"
"Because you're perceptive," she answered with a bone-weary sigh. "You're not exactly wrong." She felt exposed; it was as if she were sitting naked at the bar, for how blatantly she must be wearing her emotions and her problems on her face, in her body language. Whoever this man was, he was reading her like a flashing neon sign, and Juliet didn't like it. She just wanted to be alone, mourning the loss of her marriage. The life she'd worked so hard to build.
"I get that a lot." He paused a moment, nursing his own glass. "Ya wanna talk about it?"
Juliet turned to face him once more. The man at the piano started playing Clair De Lune, a song that never failed to make Juliet cry. She wasn't sure she could talk about her cheating husband right now.
She shook her head. "I'm sure it's nothing you haven't heard before," she answered instead, and cast her eyes away. She felt like she couldn't look directly at him. It was as if, if she did, he'd be able to see her very soul laid out for inspection on the black, lacquered bar. He'd be able to see all her sore spots - the bruises on her ego and bleeding gashes in her confidence - and know just how weak she really was.
And if he could see her, then maybe others could too.
"How's about I guess? If I'm right, you take a sip." He leaned in so close to her, his clean-scented cologne wafted through the air between them. He brought his eyes level with hers, and despite the dim lighting, she could see they were a deep, turquoise green.
She nodded, agreeing to play his game. If only to keep him beside her, for a little while longer. For some unknown reason, she liked his company.
He pulled back, assessing her. His eyes roamed over her once more, before snagging on her lips. She resisted the urge to bite them, allowing them to hide from his attention.
He shook his head. "You're gorgeous. Perhaps if ya weren't, my first guess would be the fucker's off cheatin' on you." She kept her face blank, letting him work it out for himself. She tried to ignore the fact that he seemed to compliment her, every chance he got. "But ya got that big ole ring. And yet here you are - alone, talkin' to a stranger. If you were happy, you'da told me to get lost…" He trailed off, before leaning in. Apparently this was getting serious. "Maybe he stood ya up. Maybe one too many times, and you've had enough. Maybe it's over, and ya just haven't taken it off yet." He looked down at her hand, placed in her lap. His eyes glanced back up. "Am I gettin' close?"
His body was inches from hers, and a tingle started at the base of her neck. Her breathing was stunted, fighting against the magnetism of his stare, of his scent, of his very presence. It was like she couldn't form a rational thought, when he was close to her like this. "You have good instincts," she replied, surprised she'd been able to get out that much.
He shrugged with one shoulder, not pulling back from her personal space. She swallowed, watching his face grow stern. "If any'a what I said is true, you don't deserve it. None of it."
"And how would you know that? You don't even know me." She wasn't snide, or prickly, but it was true wasn't it? They knew nothing about one another. She didn't even know if Sawyer was his real name.
He finished off his whiskey, finally leaning back. She drew in a deep, rattling breath at the reprieve. "I can tell. You're one of the good ones." His eyebrows pinched together as if he was in pain, and he looked lost in thought. She wanted to ask what was wrong - clearly he was here for some unknown reason too - but she didn't think he'd tell her, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to feel that kind of rejection right now.
They were quiet for a moment, and Juliet almost asked if he wanted another drink when he finally spoke up, disrupting her thoughts. "Ya wanna get outta here? Find somewhere quiet to talk?"
The question caught her off guard. She felt herself blanch, mouth falling open slightly in dismay. It had been a long, long time since she'd ever gone off to talk with a stranger from a bar. (And she'd never once done that while she'd been married.)
She wasn't quite sure she wanted to put herself in that predicament. But she also wasn't quite sure she wanted to leave him, either. There was something about him, something she couldn't define or even describe, that made her want to say yes. But her innermost, self-protective instincts were screaming in protest.
She knocked back the rest of her drink, aiming to shut them the hell up.
With a quick jerk of her head, she brought herself back down to earth. "Sure," she heard herself respond, as if she were watching herself in some weird, out-of-body experience. He grinned devilishly and took her hand - her left hand - as they stood from their stools. He slapped a $50 bill on the counter and signaled to the bartender. Juliet's chest warmed. He was paying for hers too.
Her heart slammed, revolting inside her chest. This felt wrong.
But god, did she want to go somewhere, anywhere, with him.
He pulled her through the crowd of well-dressed people, their light chatter pressing down on her ears. She hoped her palm wasn't sweating from where he lightly gripped it, as her nerves and the weight of her situation crashed over her.
Her hand was being held by another man. She was here, in a bar, with a man that wasn't Ed.
God, that felt good.
Sawyer pulled her to a circular booth in the corner of the hotel's opulent lobby. Now that she could see him better in the light of the golden chandelier overhead, she was reminded at how beautiful he was. His hair wasn't dark; it was lighter than she thought it was. It was a glittering dark blonde and so, so soft looking.
She wondered what he'd do, if she ran her hands through it.
"You know," she said, clearing her throat and the inappropriate thoughts from her mind. "I never asked what brought you here."
"Business," he nodded, twisting his lips to the side in a somewhat sad smile. "Got a few things to take care of, here in Miami."
"So you're not from here, then?"
He shook his head. "No. Los Angeles."
Juliet felt herself smile, despite the unnerving disappointment trying to force her mouth into a frown. "That accent doesn't sound very Californian to me."
He laughed. "Nah. Ain't from there initially, just live there now."
"So, where are you from initially, then?" she asked, curiosity piqued.
Sawyer's lighthearted smile faded. "Alabama," he answered, though he acted as if the word itself was sour on his tongue. "Ain't lived there in a long, long time though."
She almost asked him to elaborate, but the stiffness in his shoulders indicated he more than likely didn't want to talk about it.
For a moment, she wished they still had those drinks. She wanted to dig deep, burrowing into him the way he'd seemed to burrow into her.
"How 'bout you?" he asked suddenly, and leaned in again. She was transfixed by the movement, and barely noticed his arm raising up to rest on the ledge above her head.
"I've lived everywhere, it seems," she responded, and he nodded, as if he understood.
"Me too," he agreed with a long sigh. Like there was so much left unsaid, behind that rough exhale.
And then… she wasn't quite sure what happened from there.
They talked about books. About politics. About her research, and the undoubtedly boring stuff she was interested in. But he seemed genuinely interested. Despite her first impressions, Sawyer was sharp as a tack, and he was well-read too. He rivaled her in almost every way in regards to his interests, and preferences, and pet-peeves. It was odd, finding someone she connected with so easily in the most unlikely of places.
On the most unlikely of days, too.
It was too much. She didn't know what she was doing here. Her brain kept catapulting itself from one side to the next - wanting to simultaneously stay here with him, and also flee back to Rachel's apartment. She had a key. She'd be alone there, with no traces of Ed to haunt her.
She didn't know what she was doing. What they were doing.
She wasn't here to make friends.
(What was she here to do?)
He seemed to pick up on her unease, because he lowered his head and whispered, "Am I makin' you uncomfortable?"
He asked in such a quiet, thoughtful way. The gesture alone made her chest ache even more than it already was.
"No," she responded just as quietly, and tried in vain to find the right words to describe what she was feeling. It was harder to do, when she wasn't sulking in the dim lighting of the bar. Here, where it was quieter, she was certain Sawyer could hear the thudding behind her ribs.
"Hey, I get it," he volunteered, and pulled back. His arm dropped back to his side, and a small, unexpected sound of protest left Juliet's lips. "You're married. I respect that. I ain't tryin' to put you in a sticky situation, or nothin'."
The words left her mouth before she even had the chance to protest. "He's the one putting me in this situation." She swallowed hard, trying to control her breathing. "He's upstairs, sleeping with his research assistant."
"Research assistant?" Sawyer asked, his eyebrows narrowed. He seemed to be picking her apart, and Juliet blinked, unsure of what else to say. "He some kinda scientist?"
"Doctor," she replied. "We both are."
Sawyer's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "You serious?"
Juliet scoffed, unsure if she should be offended. "What, about the fact that my husband is, in fact, cheating on me, or that I'm a doctor? What, do you think only stupid girls allow this kind of thing to happen to them?"
He took her hand in his, gripping it firmly. "No. That ain't it at all." He sighed, and rubbed his thumb along her knuckles. It felt oddly intimate, and Juliet felt her hand begin to shake from the nerves. "I just - I just can't wrap my brain around any'a what you just said. What the fuck is his problem?" he hissed, and the protectiveness in this stranger's tone lit a fire in her belly. A fire that Juliet would have sworn had been long since snuffed out.
She wanted to answer the question, but she wasn't quite sure how. She'd been asking herself for years why she wasn't enough, and hell, she'd even asked him once. At first, he'd denied everything, but then she finally caught him when she'd intercepted a call from one of his mistresses. They'd fought, and she'd cried, and he'd apologized, saying it would never happen again.
That was two months ago. And now, here she was. She'd followed him here, from the hospital. He and Christine hadn't even made it to the elevator before his mouth had been on hers.
He hadn't realized how close Juliet had been. How she'd been tempted to follow him up to the 12th floor, where she'd overheard the check-in attendant say their room was located. In her head, she saw herself confronting him, screaming at him, ruining him in front of everyone. Showing everyone the kind of man he really was.
But she'd been too scared. And so, she'd slunk off to the closest bar she could find, right there in this very lobby, knowing without a doubt that there was no recovering from this.
She looked up at Sawyer, who was watching her with intense interest. Her gaze dipped to his mouth, and the fire in her belly sank lower.
"You know…" he breathed, leaning so close to her now that there were mere inches between their faces. "Maybe it's presumptuous of me, but you look like maybe ya got revenge in your eyes. I could think of a pretty easy, satisfying way to get back at him."
She sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh?"
He nodded, lips pursed. "Mmhmm." He didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to. His pupils were large and fixated on her. His arm was back in its original spot above her head, and his heat was making her sway.
She wondered if maybe he had a point. This wouldn't turn into anything, she knew that. He lived in L.A., and she lived here in Miami. He was attractive (god, and he smelled so good) and she was more alone than perhaps she'd ever been. Her marriage was dead, despite the paperwork in the safe at home, and her morals had been kicked to the curb the moment she entered that piano bar over an hour ago.
He was here. He liked her.
He was attractive, and she was certain he'd make her feel good.
And it had been far too long since someone had made her feel even remotely worthwhile.
At this point, she owed Edmund nothing.
"Okay," she whispered, and her legs quivered from the mack truck of emotions that just collided with her spine. Excitement. Fear. Nerves. Vindication.
Need.
Sawyer nodded, and placed a tentative, chaste kiss on her cheek. Testing the waters, giving her plenty of time to take it back. He searched her eyes, but she held firm. After a moment, as if finally convinced, he nodded and signaled in the direction of the elevator.
Juliet rose from the booth on wobbly legs, and he reached over to clasp her hand in his. "You sure?" he asked, once more checking in to prove to her that she was the one in control here. That they didn't have to do this if she didn't want to.
"I'm sure," she said, her voice sounding much more confident than she felt. She'd never had a one night stand before, but he didn't need to know that. She'd fooled around with guys in college, but they'd petered out over the course of weeks, not hours.
She didn't feel like herself right now, but she supposed… maybe that wasn't a bad thing.
The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival. They stepped inside, and she was grateful they were the only ones. Sawyer turned to her, and added, as if she needed any more convincing, "Kinda poetic, ain't it? Stickin' it to him in the very same hotel he dug his grave in."
Juliet launched herself at him. He deftly caught her and pulled her close to him, arms wrapping around her back. She kissed him with a ferocity she hadn't quite expected, given her anxiety surrounding this encounter.
His mouth was warm and his lips were soft. But his hair - god, his hair - was even softer. She gave it a light tug, and he groaned into her mouth.
He tasted like cigarettes and booze, and yet, on him, she didn't mind one bit.
The elevator dinged, the sound edging its way into her consciousness. She pulled back, blinking at her own brazenness. She almost apologized, until she remembered it was what they were here to do. She just did it first.
The look on his face was dark, drunk almost, in the way his jaw went slack and his eyes looked glassy. She had to be the one to tug on him, pulling him out of the elevator. She didn't know which way his room was, so she ran her hand along his bicep until he came to, and pulled her to the left.
She bit her lip to keep from grinning as they raced down the hallway. His stride was confident - he was comfortable with all this - and it was enough to remind her that he very likely knew exactly what he was doing. She was, without any degree of doubt, not the first girl he'd done this with.
But that also meant he knew exactly what he was doing.
He fit the key into the lock, and yanked her inside. His mouth was on hers before the delirious giggle could even dance its way up her throat. He shoved her against the door, and his rough hand slid up inside her sweater, gripping her waist hard with one hand.
Juliet groaned, and crossed her arms behind his head. He dragged his mouth down to her neck. "Want me to show him just how hard you got fucked tonight, sweetheart?" Sawyer murmured against her skin, and a fire erupted between her legs. She'd never been talked to like that before.
She wasn't sure how to answer his question though. Did she want Ed to ever find out about this? Would it be more or less exciting, if he never knew what she'd done? (Did it count as revenge if she couldn't bring herself to rub it in his face?)
But on the other hand, he could use it against her. He could withhold the divorce if he felt like she was equally at fault.
And besides, she didn't know if she was going to come to regret this in the morning. Evidence of their encounter might end up just being salt in the wound. She had absolutely nothing to compare this to.
"No," Juliet said softly, shaking her head, and Sawyer pulled his mouth away. "Just kiss me, Sawyer." He obliged, running his tongue along hers in a way that made her legs weak. When he picked her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist. His strong, capable hands cupped her ass inside her skirt, and he brought her over to the bed.
"Do you… you have something?" Juliet heard herself whisper as Sawyer shrugged out of his jacket. He pulled the dark grey t-shirt over his head and looked down at her. His dimples were deep and captivating as he grinned wickedly.
"Yeah. Nightstand," he assured her, and lifted her shirt to reveal her pale stomach. He knelt between her legs, holding himself above her. His tongue darted into her bellybutton, deft and hot, and she knew she was in for it tonight. This man knew exactly what he was doing.
She let him undress her; it seemed to make him happy, and she was too nervous to reveal herself in front of a stranger. He told her she was beautiful, and she knew he meant it because of the way he stroked a finger from her hairline down to one peaked nipple. The care and attention he paid to kissing her tenderly, pulling back every so often to gaze down into her face - it made her feel beautiful.
Perhaps that was all she ever needed. For someone to make her feel that way. Even just for a little while.
When they were both undressed, she reached out to wrap her hand against him, but he pulled away. He kissed her, hot and fervently on the mouth, before murmuring, "It ain't about me right now."
He kissed her sternum, and then gave one rough suck to one of her nipples. She gasped, as he kissed and licked his way down to her hip bone. Finally, after wanting to all damn night, she finally reached out to run her fingertips along his stubble. He responded in kind by rubbing that delicious stubble on the inside of her thighs.
When his tongue dipped inside her, electricity flared to life under her skin. Ed hadn't done this for her since the early days of their relationship, and had only done so begrudgingly. Now, this stranger, this gorgeous, sexy, strong, willing stranger was groaning and tasting her like she was his favorite flavor of ice cream.
He wrapped his arms around her thighs and tugged her hips down, spreading her legs wider and applying light suction to her most sensitive spot.
It was the most intense feeling she'd ever experienced, and her hips rolled on their own volition.
Soon, his groans matched hers as she rode out wave after wave of building pleasure. And when she finally came, her whole body lifting up off the bed like a woman possessed, he cried out with her.
She was still trembling from the aftershocks as he rolled on a condom and slid into her with a gentleness she hadn't anticipated. It told her so much about this man - more than words ever could. He cared. He was sensitive, probably more than he wanted people to know, and Juliet relished in the sweet, delicious mix he was giving her: tenderness and strength and passion and vigor. He alternated, pushing into her slowly and purposefully, until she was shaking. Then, he'd pump hard, rocking them both into the headboard behind them. Her whole body was alight with sensation, and before long, she was giving it right back to him.
She shoved him until he was on his back. Another thing Ed hated, not being in control, and Juliet took full advantage of Sawyer's willingness to mix it up. She closed her eyes at first, riding him with a fluid, steady rhythm.
Then she realized what she could be looking at right now, and set her own insecurities aside to open her eyes. He was watching her, watching them, where they were combined and writhing against one another. He looked like a man possessed.
She moved faster, until Sawyer was panting. She ran her fingernails down his chest, and he groaned so loudly and openly, it made it feel even better for her.
When he gasped her name, she felt herself come again.
She kept going, growing more and more tired by the second, but she was bound to see this through. Despite what he'd said, this needed to be good for both of them.
She felt him spasm inside her, seconds before he grunted her name, yet again.
It was her new favorite sound, and she hated herself for it. Because she knew she'd never hear it again after tonight.
Exhaling heavily, Juliet collapsed onto the bed beside Sawyer. She felt him pull off the condom, heard the soft snapping sound and closed her eyes, in complete disbelief.
She'd really done that. She'd had a one night stand with a guy she'd met in a hotel bar.
She pressed her palms against her eyes, but Sawyer shifted to hover over her, pulling her hands away. He kissed the inside of one of her palms. "Hey…" he said, low and controlled, despite the rapid heartbeat she could feel thrumming against her ribs.
"I'm okay," she responded, knowing he was looking for confirmation. "I'm just surprised."
He grinned, and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "It was pretty damn good, huh?"
A manic, nervous giggle burst free and she nodded. "You could say that. Yes."
Sawyer rolled back onto his back and pulled her into him. She put her cheek on his chest, and breathed in the intoxicating scent of him. (She knew he'd be a cuddler.)
They were quiet for several long moments, with him petting her hair, occasionally brushing his fingers through it. She was gloriously relaxed and still by the time he spoke again. "I got a meeting in the mornin', but… ya maybe wanna stay?"
Juliet considered. She could drive home, probably. Or call a cab just to be safe. But she didn't want to go home. Rachel's place was on the other side of town, and it would still take ages to get there, not to mention the enormous cab fee.
And here… she was warm, and cozy, and sleepy from the expended energy and alcohol leaching from her system. It was so much easier (and so, so much harder) to stay.
"Okay," she mumbled, and nestled her face deeper into his chest. His strong arm wrapped around her back, and she felt him sigh into her hair. When she planted a tender kiss to his skin, she felt him shiver beneath her. It made her smile.
Time passed. She dozed off quickly, so she wasn't sure if it was a dream or not, but she could have sworn he whispered he was sorry onto the crown of her head. But she was too far gone to question it.
—-
When Juliet awoke the next morning, firm, tanned arms encircled her waist from behind. Ed would never. And she wasn't in her own bed either, causing her to blink in confusion. She raised her head, looking around.
And then it all hit her. What she'd done. Who she'd done it with.
She wasn't sure if she felt guilty or not. Not when her body still sang with a satisfaction she hadn't felt in years - if ever, really.
He kissed her shoulder blade and she smiled. He must have woken up when she moved. "Mornin'," he rumbled, and Juliet could feel the vibrations against her back.
"Morning," she replied, and turned to look down at him. His hair was mussed and his eyes were still closed where they rested against the pillow. His hand stroked her hip subconsciously.
"What time is it?" he asked again, seemingly half-asleep.
Juliet looked at the clock. It surprised her, that she'd slept so late. "Quarter to nine," she said, and she felt him tense.
"What?" he asked, and his eyes flew open. "Shit!"
He rocketed out of bed, searching in vain for his pants from the night before. He found them, half shoved under the bed, and slipped into them without bothering with underwear.
"What's the matter?" Juliet asked, gripping the bedsheets to her chest.
Sawyer pulled a clean, white button up shirt from the closet and slid his arms into it. "I told ya - I'm meetin' with an investor. Supposed to be at 9." He shook his head, looking around for his socks. He hopped on one foot, pulling them on. "A lot's ridin' on this. I gotta be ready."
Juliet nodded. Despite him having seen her the night before, in all her glory, she shyly groped around for her underwear. She found them, draped over the telephone on the nightstand. Embarrassing.
She slid into them beneath the sheets while Sawyer tied his tie around his neck. She was dressed in her skirt and bra when he finally turned around, fully dressed, with a briefcase in hand. When he set it on the bed, dozens and dozens of wads of bills fell out. The contrast of green against white startled Juliet, and she took a step back, away from the bed.
Everything in the room began to spin. Her entire world came crashing down around her, leaving her standing on this one precarious spot, the open maw of the void surrounding her, threatening to suck her down into the dark.
It all made sense now. She began to tremble, gripping the nightstand beside her. She lowered herself to sit on the bed, staring at the pile of money like it was a pile of snakes.
He'd picked her up on purpose.
None of this had been a coincidence.
All of it - the talking, the connection, the sex - it had been nothing more than a ruse.
How could she have been so stupid?
"You weren't exactly supposed to see that…" Sawyer mumbled, eyes as large as flying saucers. He looked over at her, and she could tell he was gauging her reaction.
Everything in her life was a lie. The good. The bad. All of it.
"I see…" she heard herself say, and she suddenly felt very, very exposed. She eyed her sweater, behind him, but she couldn't move from her spot. So, she crossed her arms protectively across her chest instead.
She barely heard him as he went through his obviously-planned monologue about some oil mining deal. How the investor would be waiting for him downstairs, any minute now.
Sure, she thought. And her and her rich husband had absolutely nothing to do with that.
Part of Juliet was angry. She'd been used when she'd been feeling the most vulnerable. Lied to and taken advantage of, despite her willingness to participate.
But… the other part of her? The lonely, needy part of her? She'd loved every moment of last night. He'd not only made her feel good, but she'd believed him when he'd called her beautiful. When he'd made her feel wanted. (He couldn't fake that hungry look in his eyes, she knew.) He'd wanted her - no one else - she was certain of that.
At the end of the day… perhaps this was just what she needed. She'd known from the very beginning what she was signing up for, anyway. One night with a gorgeous stranger, to remind her that maybe someday, she'd find someone else. Someone who'd only have eyes for her.
"Good luck," Juliet said, and it sounded sincere, even to her. "It was nice to meet you, Sawyer." She moved around him, noting his stunned expression as he ogled her. She put her sweater on over her head, put her purse back onto her shoulder from where it had fallen by the door, and turned towards him.
"Hang on a second… is that it?" he asked, scoffing in mild disbelief.
She smiled sadly. "Thank you. For last night." She slipped into her shoes and opened the door. She hesitated in the doorway, for ten long seconds, before she turned back to him again. "Be careful who you con, Sawyer. You never know whose feelings you'll hurt. What those people will do, in retaliation. Just… be careful, okay?"
His jaw fell open, and he straightened, the pile of money still sitting on the bed.
And then, with the confidence of a newfound woman, a woman who she never expected to be in her entire life… she blew him a kiss, before shutting the door behind her with a resounding click.
—-
Four Years Later…
Sawyer hated hotel bars; has hated them for years now. But they were the easiest place to pick up women from out of town. They never tended to stray too far, the naive, precocious ones, and ended up just finding their way downstairs rather than braving the streets of downtown L.A.
This particular hotel bar was no different. Though, perhaps he was the one who was different. He wasn't quite sure.
He didn't have the time or energy to find another mark tonight. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn't had the energy for the last three. But he had to make a living somehow.
He was leaving in a week to go to Australia. Hibbs had some insider tip that the man Sawyer had been looking for was living down there, under the guise of some entrepreneur. Supposedly, he was making an honest living, as the owner and operator of a food truck. Sawyer didn't believe one word of it.
The bartender asked him what he was drinking tonight. Sawyer considered. Normally, he went for whiskey or bourbon, occasionally scotch if he was celebrating. But tonight… tonight he wanted to do something different. He got this way, on occasion, when he couldn't get that woman out of his mind.
"Rum and coke," Sawyer answered, and the bartender nodded.
He'd been thinking about her a lot lately, and he wasn't sure why. After she'd left him high and dry in that swanky hotel in Miami four years ago, he'd gotten rip-roaring drunk, and tried to forget her name, her face, the way she tasted.
It took a long, long while before he was successful.
But for some reason Sawyer couldn't define, his confidence waned. This was a death sentence for a man in his profession, he knew. He pulled out of deals at the last moment. Left eager women sitting at the bar instead of following them home. But some block had been erected in the back of his mind, and it took almost an entire year before he was able to pull off the kind of con he'd once been able to do in his sleep.
Now, it seemed, that drive was waning again. Perhaps it was because the real Sawyer was within reach.
He didn't want to do this anymore, he realized. And the thought scared him. This life - it was all he knew.
He nursed his drink for almost an hour, lost in thought. The bartender brought him another, and he savored that one too.
It reminded him of that night. Of the way she'd tasted.
Her name started with a J. He remembered that much (because so did his). She was blonde, and soft, and terrified of being with him. He couldn't blame her - he'd known what was in store for her. But then she'd surprised him. She'd faced her fear, meeting him head-on. Showed him exactly who she was, even when they were nothing more than strangers. At the end of it all, he wondered if he'd shown her too much of himself, too. But he couldn't help it. There'd been something about her, something he couldn't explain or even begin to understand, that made him want her to see him.
And then, worst of all, she'd caught him red-handed.
It had terrified him for weeks. He'd look over his shoulder at every turn, just waiting for the cops to catch up to him. But then he realized - she never had any intention of turning him in. She'd just hoped he'd change his ways, and for some unknown reason - thanked him.
He really wished he could remember her name now.
More time passed, and he paid his tab. He was tired, and he'd accomplished a whole lot of nothing as he'd sat there, stewing in memories that made him sick to his stomach.
He was heading toward the exit when he saw a cascade of curly blonde hair at the end of the bar. He stopped, because something lodged between his ribs told him to. He couldn't see her face, so he angled around the side, tilting his head.
He needed to know if it was her.
Suddenly, his heart was thudding, and memories of that night were rocketing back into his body from the ether where he'd stored them, playing like a movie behind his eyelids.
He didn't want to know anymore.
It wasn't her. It couldn't possibly be. What were the fucking odds?
He turned back towards the door. He couldn't let any doubt keep him from Australia. From his mission. And this is what she did. She caused doubt.
He may have forgotten her name. He may have forgotten her facial features, as they muddied and blurred in his brain. But he could never forget her voice.
"Sawyer?" the woman called out, and Sawyer froze.
What were the chances?
He turned around, and like how it felt putting glasses on for the first time, everything came into focus. Her large, blue ocean eyes. Her full, puckered lips. Her curious expression, as if everything she viewed was something to be studied.
It was her. He was sure of it.
He took a tentative step towards her. She looked radiant, sitting here in the low-lighting of a bar on the other side of the country. Her modest black dress and light makeup made her look like a completely different person. Gone was the shy, terrified woman he'd met so long ago.
It didn't feel real. It didn't feel possible.
"Juliet," she said warmly, and stuck out a hand.
Juliet. The name that had haunted him for weeks; months, perhaps.
Juliet. How could he ever forget?
"I'm James," he said, throat thick and palms sweaty. He didn't know what was coming over him, but it was happening all the same. He told her his real name. No hesitation. Like a fever-dream, he reached out and grabbed her hand. He was now a marionette, and she held his strings.
"James," she repeated, grinning as she tested the word in her mouth. "James. I like it." Her eyes twinkled, like she knew his secret. Which, of course she did. He didn't need to be Sawyer anymore. Not with her.
He sat on the barstool next to her, as in awe of her now as he'd been four years ago. "Been a long time since I seen a pretty girl like you in a hotel bar," he joked, and set his trembling hands in his lap. This was all so fucking surreal.
Juliet smiled sadly. She finished her drink, amber colored, like a malt whiskey, and set her glass back on the bar. Her fingers were bare.
"We have a lot to catch up on, don't we?" she mused, following his gaze down to her hand.
"If ya want to," he offered. She nodded, eyes bright with curiosity. Just like they were in his memories.
Maybe hotel bars weren't really so bad, after all.