Meet Me at Midnight

Music pounds from the speakers placed strategically around downtown Miami’s newest club Echo, and I look past the red velvet ropes of the VIP section Avery convinced her current boy toy Ben to reserve for us tonight. She’s currently on the dance floor, making out with some guy with long, dark hair that reminds me of that big, muscular dude from Game of Thrones.

I steal a glance behind me, where Ben sits cluelessly on one of the posh black sofas, chatting with a friend of his named Jackson whom I just met when we arrived. Ben has no idea that the girl he’s after, the one who is utilizing his generosity and willingness to cover the very expensive tab, is currently on the dance floor sucking face with a guy she just met.

But none of this is my concern when I check the time on my phone and see it’s thirty minutes till midnight.

I hate myself for what I strategically put into action tonight and for what I’m about to do, but I do it anyway. I had to be sure Avery would be out so I’d have the building to myself.

Uber app pulled up on my phone, I order a ride back to our condo and send Avery a text message I know she won’t see because she’s too busy sticking her tongue down Mr. Game of Thrones’s throat.

Me: Feel a little sick from dinner but don’t want to ruin your fun. Grabbing an Uber and heading home.

I hit send as I’m grabbing my purse and tell Ben and Jackson goodbye. They try to convince me to stay, but it only takes an excuse of feeling like puking for them step clear of my path toward the door.

Once I’m outside the club, I only have to wait a few minutes before my Uber appears, Lance driving a Silver Expedition. I double-check his license plate with what’s showcased in the app and after a short but friendly greeting hello, I climb into the back seat and put on my seat belt.

He heads toward my condo building, and I try to relax as he manages to hit the lights on green at every intersection.

When we’re about ten minutes from home, I open Midnight and scroll through the last messages that led me here.

ThunderStruck: I’m so glad you agreed to meet. I live in the 72 Park Building. 580 72nd Street, Miami Beach. The gym is on the fifth floor.

ElizaBeth: Okay.

ThunderStruck: I’ll see you at Midnight. Right?

ElizaBeth: I promise. I’ll be there.

When Lance pulls his Expedition to a stop in front of the entrance to our building, I have to take several deep breaths just to be able to get out of the car. My whole body feels like a shell of itself.

My fingers tingle, and my legs are numb as I pass through the lobby to the bank of elevators at the back of the building. I have no idea what’s going to happen or how Beau is going to react, and the mere thought of him being angry with me is enough for me to push a different button than I’m supposed to inside the cart. Instead of heading to the fifth floor, I head to the thirty-second, where our condo is located, and unlock and close the door behind me without taking a single full breath.

I walk straight into my bedroom and slide off my heels and little black dress and change into a pair of workout leggings and a sports bra.

I don’t know why, but looking the part somehow feels better.

I grab my phone, AirPods, and water bottle and head back out of my condo without giving myself any time to second-guess.

The elevator is still waiting from my earlier arrival, so I step on and push the button for the fifth floor as fast as I can.

Somehow, I’ve managed to do all of this without running into Beau, and that, in and of itself, is a minor miracle, given our condos are on the same floor. I check the screen of my phone for the time. Five minutes until midnight.

Am I really going to follow through with this? Am I really going to walk into the gym and tell Beau that I’m the woman he’s been talking to on Midnight this entire time?

It sure looks like it, but for the life of me, I still can’t be sure.

The elevator dings its arrival, and I step off, my feet somehow managing to move straight for the gym’s door. I walk inside. The door closes shut behind me.

It’s empty, which is the point of the late hour, but still, it’s empty. No Beau in sight. I fiddle there for a few long moments before walking over to a bench press machine and pulling blindly at the little pin that sets the weights.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but at least I’m doing something. Time drags and silence rings in my ears, and growing more nervous by the minute, I sit down on the bench and wobble my knees back and forth.

I check the screen of my phone again, a compulsion I can’t stop.

Two minutes until midnight.

Maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe he’s—

My thoughts come to a screeching halt when I hear the elevator ding and the gentle whir of the stainless-steel-fronted doors opening. A shock of adrenaline hits when I hear footsteps moving down the hallway.

Shit!

I panic, jumping up from my bench and rocking back and forth on my toes, my mind trying to figure out what I should do. Any second, Beau could walk in here. Any second, he could find out the truth.

In a rush, I jog over toward the racks of dumbbells that sit in front of a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror, and I snag one into my hand, not giving a shit how much weight it is. The door opens, and I shut my eyes for the longest moment before I can muster the strength to take a peek into the mirror.

Handsome as ever in his undeniable reflection, the man of my dreams is here.

I expect Beau to be searching, to be checking every crevice of the gym, but instead, his warm brown eyes are locked and loaded, right on me.

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

OH MY GOD.

I don’t know what to do. I honestly have no idea what to do. My heart is pounding so hard inside my chest, and it’s truly a miracle right now if I’m actually breathing.

Everything is frozen. My legs. My arms. My face.

Our eyes lock in the reflection in the mirror, and a petal of my rose-colored cheeks wilts as wrinkles form at the sides of his eyes.

I was hoping for love and affection, but I got her evil, ugly stepsister—confusion. It’s a completely fair and valid reaction on his part, but still…it stings.

“June?”

“Uh…hey,” I say, but I don’t dare turn around. Instead, I stand there and pretend to do bicep curls with the one lone weight in my hand.

“W-what are you doing here?” he asks, and I can see the wheels of his mind spinning and spinning as he tries to understand if I’m here by coincidence or if I’ve ensnared him with the impossible.

Me? His Mystery Woman? It couldn’t be.

I open and close my mouth, my brain completely incompetent in forming words. For as many times as I’ve thought out this possibility, I never managed to think through the part where I actually explain.

“Beau, I…I wish I knew what to say—”

Unexpectedly, the door swings open from behind him, the wood nearly smacking him in the back. Avery, still dressed in her clubbing attire, screeches to a stop at the sight of us.

“June? Beau?” Her head swivels between us, and I start curling my weight again in a panic. My muscle burns at the sudden overuse, but I don’t care. I keep pumping anyway. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

Beau looks between the two of us, and I know, even though I’m trying so hard, I’m doing a shit job of hiding the outright panic on my face.

His brown eyes narrow, locking completely with mine, and I have to reach out a hand toward the mirror to steady myself. I don’t know what my other arm is doing with the stupid dumbbell. It’s a miracle it’s still in my hand.

“Uh, hello?” Avery questions. “June? Pretty sure you have some explaining to do.” Her hand goes to her hip, and my eyes go back to Beau. He’s watching me closely as Avery reads me the riot act. “I can’t fucking believe you would dip on me like that!” She stomps over toward the row of ellipticals and treadmills, her mouth moving a mile a minute. “Do you have any idea how annoying it was when Ben tried to act all alpha when he saw me with another guy on the dance floor? It was a fucking mess, June. You left me high and dry!” She snags something from one of the machine’s cupholders before spinning back around to meet me. “What the hell happened?”

“I had a migraine again…” I pause, lying straight to both Beau’s and her faces. “And I just thought maybe…you know…maybe a workout would help it.”

“God, Juni,” Avery says through a sigh. “You need to get those looked at. This is, like, the third time this month one of your migraines has gotten in the way of our good time.”

Hook, line, and sinker, my best friend clearly trusts me way too much. She believes the lie and starts rambling more about how Ben was annoyed she was dancing with that Game of Thrones-looking dude, and I die a little more inside.

How many Banks hearts do I have to break before I turn tail and run?