Spending the Night with Boys in Red Hats

He could have asked any other question.

Imogen recognized him before she went into the bank; he was already in line and about a full head taller than everyone else. She was late for the third time that week but desperate for a coffee from her favorite cash only establishment just across the road and, of course, the ATM was busted. Aside from the line of usual suspects inside of the bank who normally would have queued with her out at the ATM, there was an older woman with her two children and a suspiciously familiar red beanie. Red Beanie turned briefly and Imogen froze in the back of the line, considering the ramifications of filing in a mere three people behind the person she was meant to have left behind completely last weekend.

Shit.

It was a fling.

A dalliance.

A one night stand.

“We aren’t supposed to see those people ever again according to the laws of the universe,” her best friend Jay would always say, “and if you do, honey, RUN.”

But, damn it all, there was Red Beanie.

Yup, still hot.

Simmering.

Wildly attractive.

But, Imogen just wanted to get some overpriced coffee with a hand full of cash and go to work where her boss would say, “you’re on thin ice,” in front of all her coworkers, then ask her inappropriate questions during her shift. Reliable capitalism death thrash kind of stuff - you know, the stuff you would report to Human Resources if they existed. Nothing new to navigate except the nagging feeling that if you physically escalated you might end up imprisoned.

Imogen texted Jay.

Red Beanie is AT. THE. BANK.

SSTTOOOOOOOOOPPPP!!

WAIT. Is he a Libra?

OMG, what if you have synestry?

Imogen stopped texting. She didn’t want Jay to go off on a zodiac tangent, even if it offered the false hope of romantic normalcy she desperately craved. She needed real time solutions for how to deal with encountering someone she slept with once while out in the wild after leaving without a trace. And didn’t he ask for her number? Oh, wait, he might actually have it. She silenced her phone and turned off the vibration, then made sure it was on do not disturb.

Red Beanie turned his head slightly to the left and looked toward the door. Imogen winced, sucked air through her teeth, and immediately slid left and looked down, her long layers shielding her eyes and nose. It was time to text Jay again.

It’s impossible to hide in this line and it’s moving SO slowly. Can’t we just skip coffee.

Excuse me, I am covering you for the third week in a row for the PROMISE of coffee. Get me my drank.

Imogen rolled her eyes.

Fine.

She put her phone in her pocket and looked up. The line had advanced quickly - another teller suddenly appeared and she had to trot forward to get to catch up with the rest of the line. She moved a little too quickly and bumped into one of the regulars.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said more loudly than usual. Red Beanie glanced over his shoulder again and the corners of his mouth turned downward, like maybe he remembered something suddenly that he wanted to forget or a foul smell wafted just past his nose.

Imogen continued to avert eye contact by looking at her phone, mindlessly scrolling to keep herself from running out of the bank. Red Beanie was up at the teller and the person in front of her was about to be called. She was next in line - all she had to do was keep focused. If she arrived to a teller before he could turn around, she wouldn’t have to acknowledge him. Her sister, Isolde, posted a picture of the two of them at the party from Saturday and there he was in the background, in conversation with someone else, wearing the same hat. She wondered if it was like a security blanket he never out grew.

The teller called out, “next in line,” and Imogen practically ran forward but it was too late. Red Beanie had turned around, seen her, and froze in his tracks - grinning and delighted. Imogen didn’t notice until the two of them stood in the window at the same time.

To be clear, it wasn’t like they hadn’t enjoyed one another’s company. Truly - they *enjoyed one another in more ways than one. When there was time to talk, there was plenty to discuss and it made for a long night turned early morning. They even discussed an upcoming concert they both planned to attend, a film they both wanted to see - and her favorite cash only coffee shop.

Shit.

That’s why he was there.

Still… he could have asked any other question.

“Do I know you?”

Imogen rolled her eyes. It was corny, silly, but playful. Maybe that was something she didn’t know she was into. Maybe she could get behind a little bit of verbal foreplay, feigning ignorance to keep things interesting. She forgot his name for a moment, but not the rest. He smelled like tobacco, that stereotypically manly smell, but she knew he didn’t smoke. He was close to her and she was able to fully appreciate his attire now that they weren’t in line. He can dress - and undress - pretty well. Imogen couldn’t hide behind her hair anymore. Truthfully, she didn’t want to and smiled a toothy grin, shaking her hair back as best she could, but the teller was impatient.

“Sir, please step away so this client can conduct her business.”

Imogen smiled at the woman behind the glass and they shared a mischievous giggle. He smiled and walked backward toward the door.

“Let’s grab a coffee when you’re done,” he smiled then turned and walked out of the door toward the coffee stand.

“Guess there’s no avoiding him now,” Imogen half muttered under her breath.

The teller laughed, “why would you avoid that?”

Shit.

That made for a much better question.