Pt. 2
Nico Sanchez

“You changed your sound.”

Nico turned instinctively, pulse skipping, and there he was, leaning casually against the bar like they knew each other. He straightened automatically. “Uh, yeah. Figured something a little lighter might fit better on a weeknight.”

The man gave a slow, thoughtful nod, swirling the drink in his hand as if considering the taste of Nico’s answer. “You’re good either way. But the first set, the sad one… It was better.”

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. “Most people don’t like the sad stuff,” he said after a pause, unsure if it came out defensive.

A faint smile curled on the man’s lips as he brought his drink to his mouth, then eased down onto the barstool beside Nico. The move took Nico by surprise, he hadn’t expected him to stay, let alone sit. 

“That’s not true,” the man said, his voice velvet over gravel. He slipped a hand into the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, then held it out toward Nico. “Most people like the sad stuff more. They just don’t want to admit it. Think it’s inappropriate.”

Nico stared at him, his mind scrambling for an answer. He didn’t smoke, and the thought of taking one felt forced, like trying to fit himself into a space he wasn’t meant to occupy. But something about refusing, about drawing a line between them, felt even worse. Awkward, juvenile, even, like it would expose him as inexperienced, or worse, as someone not worth talking to.

The silence pressed down on him, the kind of silence that starts to feel loud the longer it stretches. He hesitated, then reached out and took one, trying to make the motion look smooth. “Thanks.”

The man didn’t respond. Instead, he kept watching Nico, as though trying to see past the words and into the thoughts Nico hadn’t said. Something about the way the man looked at him made him feel like he was under a microscope.

He adjusted the strap of his guitar where it dug into his shoulder and studied the man’s face up close for the first time. He was striking, unreasonably so. The kind of beautiful that didn’t make sense outside of film or fiction. It was the sort of beauty that made you feel a little off-balance just by being near it. His features were sharp, sculpted, like someone had carved him out of marble and then softened the edges just enough to make him human.

He cleared his throat. “Why’s that?” he nodded faintly toward the cigarette between his fingers. “Why would anyone think it’s inappropriate?”

The stranger flicked open a silver lighter with a fluid motion and lit his own cigarette. He tilted the lighter toward Nico’s, offering the flame, his gaze remaining locked on him as the tip of Nico’s cigarette caught fire. The man sat back, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “Makes them feel exposed, probably. Or weak.”

Nico took a drag from the cigarette, more for something to do than any real urge to smoke. The taste hit the back of his throat. He didn’t cough, but barely. He hoped it didn’t show.

Faint amusement flickered in the stranger's eyes, one brow arched just slightly. “You don’t smoke,” he said, the words more of an observation than a question.

He shrugged.  “Eh, not much.”

The man’s lips quirked into a small grin. “Didn’t think so. You’re too clean.”

The remark caught him off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The man shifted on his stool, turning just enough to face Nico more directly. “You’ve got that look. Bright eyes, fidgety hands, colorful clothes... The way you performed last week.”

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“So, should I be flattered that you noticed me last time?”

Nico stared at him, momentarily thrown off. “I— What?”

“You looked right at me after your set,” the man said casually, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a nearby tray. “Held my gaze, just for a second.”

He felt a slow heat rise in his chest. He hadn’t expected to be called out on it, let alone have it acknowledged.

“I thought maybe you imagined it,” the man added, a teasing smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Or regretted it.”

“No. I noticed you.”

The man’s smirk widened. A dimple appeared, just for a second, then vanished. “Yeah, I know. I noticed you too.” He glanced at the cigarette between Nico’s fingers. “You don’t have to smoke it.” His tone was amused, as if he could tell Nico was trying a little too hard.

Stubborn as he was, Nico took another drag, this time with more ease, less like he was about to choke and more like he was getting the hang of it. The man’s smile deepened just enough to show he was entertained.

“My name’s Nico,” he offered, shifting his guitar strap again as he extended a hand.

The man took it without hesitation, his grip warm, skin startlingly soft. “I’m Jordan.”

Jordan.

He had expected something more elaborate. Something polished, maybe foreign-sounding. A name that fit the kind of man who looked like that. “Jordan” felt almost too normal. And yet, somehow, it suited him. Effortless, like he didn’t need the name to do any of the heavy lifting.

He let go just a moment longer than he should have, flexing his fingers as if trying to hold onto the moment. 

“Do you… usually hang around bars listening to people pour their hearts out, or is that a new hobby?”

“Is that what you’re doing up there? Pouring your heart out?”

Nico didn't hesitate. “Yes.”

“Well,” Jordan said, dragging his thumb along the rim of his glass, “I guess I’m lucky I showed up during one of those nights.”

Jordan was polished and clearly used to saying things that landed the way he wanted. Nico looked away, feigning interest in the scratched bar top.

“I had a date, actually,” Jordan said casually, as if reading Nico’s thoughts.

“Girlfriend?”

Jordan shook his head, stubbing out his cigarette with a lazy motion. “Not really. More of a mistake, probably.”

“That bad, huh?”

Jordan smiled slowly, like the question amused him. “She wasn’t what I wanted.”

And though he didn’t say it directly, the way his gaze lingered on Nico made the air feel heavier. The space between them seemed smaller than it had just a minute ago.

Nico let out a quiet laugh, unsure if it was amusement or nerves. “What do you want, then?”

Jordan leaned back slightly. “That’s a bold question.”

“You don’t have to answer.”

“Oh, I’ll answer.” He swirled the liquid his glass again, eyes still on Nico. “Right now? A better drink. And maybe…” His gaze dropped briefly to Nico’s guitar, then returned to his face. “Another sad song.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “You’re really into the melodrama, huh?”

“Maybe I am.” Jordan gave a lazy smile that made it hard to tell if he was joking or confessing. He finished the last of his drink and set the glass down with a quiet clink.

A pause stretched between them, not awkward, but thick with something unsaid. Jordan’s hand rested close to Nico’s on the bar, not quite touching, but close enough for Nico to feel the shared heat.

Then Jordan turned, angling his body toward him. “Are you doing anything right now? Or is this your whole Cinderella routine, play your set and disappear before midnight?”

“What are you offering? The ball or just the glass slipper?”

Jordan’s laugh came low and warm, smooth like a secret meant just for Nico. “Neither. Just a better drink. At my place.”

The offer settled between them and hung in the air like slow smoke. There was nothing lewd about it, no edge of impatience. Just calm confidence, like Jordan had already lived this moment a hundred times and was content to wait for Nico to catch up.

Nico’s heart stuttered behind his ribs, caught between adrenaline and disbelief. “You’re inviting me over?”

“I am.”

The bar didn’t go quiet, but it felt like it had. Music played, drinks clinked, someone laughed too loud behind him, but all of it dimmed, like background noise in a dream. The air between them thickened, and Nico felt suspended in it, just slightly outside of real time.

His brain scrambled to recalibrate. A minute ago, he’d been on stage, heart pounding with the last chords of his set, sweat still damp at the back of his neck. Now he was here, being looked at like that. Spoken to like that.

And Jordan meant it, that much was clear. There was no wink, no smirk to soften it into a joke. This man, with the expensive calm and that subtle, devastating smirk was completely serious. It made Nico suddenly feel very young. 

He cleared his throat, then had to do it again when his first attempt caught halfway. His fingers twitched, craving something, anything to make this moment feel less impossible. All he had was a nearly spent cigarette, so he took a long drag.

“I mean…” he started, his voice thinner than he wanted it to be. He had to force the words out. “I don’t really know you.” It sounded even worse out loud. Naive and half-hearted, like a warning he didn’t even believe himself. And yet, he couldn’t stop watching Jordan. His mouth, his eyes, the relaxed curve of his posture… He felt like he was standing on the edge of something dangerous, something he already wanted too much.

“You know my name,” Jordan said, tone teasing but not unkind. “You know I like sad songs and moody bars. And, apparently, guys with guitars. That’s not nothing.”

Nico let out a breath, glancing down at his guitar like it might offer advice. 

Jordan didn’t push, didn’t move closer, but just added, gently: "You can say no. I won’t be offended. You seem smart enough not to say yes unless you want to. And I’m not looking to trick you into anything. No weird expectations. Just... a better drink. And maybe another song. Just for me this time.”

Nico looked at him again, really looked, the way Jordan’s expression had softened. It wasn’t fake. At least it didn’t feel like it. Still, every part of him screamed this was a bad idea. He didn’t know this man. Jordan was confident in a way that only came from experience. He was smooth and calm, clearly from a different world. He probably lived in a high-rise somewhere and wore cologne Nico couldn’t pronounce.

But then again… Nico hadn’t stopped thinking about him since last week. Since their eyes met and something electric passed between them, then vanished as fast as it appeared, swallowed by that beautiful woman and the moment that never became anything.

And now here he was. Asking Nico to go with him. 

“Alright,” Nico said at last, his voice quiet. “Yeah.“ He tried to sound a little more confident. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Jordan’s smile spread slowly, warm and genuine, and this time, Nico didn’t doubt its sincerity.

Author’s Note: 

Thank you so much for reading this far! I really hope you’ve enjoyed the journey. If anything stood out to you or you feel like sharing your thoughts, I’d love to hear them! Either way, I’m just glad you’re here and along for the ride. ❤️