For Tonight

A short story about Shani, a girl who finally remembered who she was.

I am attempting to write a romance novel, and it’s hard. The writing part, yes, but also the wrangling ideas part. I want the story to do so much that it’s doing nothing at all. I literally mean nothing because I haven’t touched it for two months. It intimidates me; it’s the Gross Sisters of my to-do list.

I decided the best way to learn how to write is to write (and read books about writing). So welcome to a new series of short stories I’ll be sharing on my Substack. My goal is a short story a month.

For Tonight is loosely based on my life. It’s inspired by a combination of personal experiences, but it is fiction. I am an album listener, and once I turn one on, I can be stuck on it for weeks. This week it’s, When I Hear Your Name by Maeta. The song ASMR reminds me of a wild night in NYC, and thus, For Tonight was born.

Enjoy!

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The sky cracked open on her walk, threatening to ruin her blowout and put a blistered cherry on top of an already miserable week. Shani thought extending her work trip and spending the weekend in New York might spark something. Anything besides the ball of sadness and despair that had lulled at the bottom of her belly for the last two weeks. It was her own doing, really. She had been a coward who couldn’t tell the man she was falling in love with that she loved him back. Now she’s at a random hotel bar, on her third glass of champagne, watching a screen-recorded boomerang of the diamond ring on his fiancé’s finger, posted minutes after he proposed.

Congratulations!!! Shani commented on the post tagged to his Instagram page, announcing the engagement. Three exclamation points to convey how happy and not utterly gutted she was.

They began as friends. Shani met Jared through a mutual acquaintance years earlier, and they bonded over shared interests. There was occasional flirtation, but mostly what they had was refreshingly platonic. One night after two bottles of wine and a long overdue catch-up at dinner, they kissed. When his car stopped outside her building, Shani leaned in to hug him goodbye, the way she always did. As she pulled back, her bottom lip brushed his mouth briefly. He didn’t hesitate. He lifted her chin and kissed her once, firmly, before pulling away and saying goodnight.

An hour later, her phone lit up. Open the door.

Jared stood there.

Shani laughed softly at the memory. It was all she could do to keep from crying. She had never felt as closely connected to a man as she had to Jared. It was only meant to be casual; they had an unspoken agreement that it was nothing more. And yet, without a decision being made, their nights slipped into mornings, their conversations got deeper, longer, more intimate. She knew Jared’s history with women; she’d pretended to have heard so much about her fair share of them over the course of their friendship. So, she told herself that what they had was no different. And when he told her he loved her, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. So, she let him go. That was a year ago. And now a year later, he belonged to someone else, and she’s not sure she’ll ever get over it.

Deciding she’d done enough wallowing at the bottom of flute glasses for the night, Shani air-signed to the bartender for the check.

“Actually, she’ll have one more.”

The voice belonged to a tall, very handsome man who was already pulling out the chair beside her and settling in.

“I’ll also have another,” he added, lifting his glass and drinking what remained of the warm, brown liquid.

He smelled good, a mix of wood and amber. Hair cut low, beard clean-shaven, nails neat. An expensive watch. Saint Laurent loafers. Tailored clothes. Teeth?

He laughs with the bartender.

Perfect.

“That was presumptuous,” Shani said while accepting the fresh glass of champagne.

“You looked like you might need it.”
“And you concluded this how?”
He shrugged, “Just a feeling.”

Shani laughed, and somehow an hour and two more glasses of champagne had come and gone before she realized she’d been pouring her heart out to this handsome stranger.

“You know what you need?” He said, reaching for her hand.
“A therapist?”
“I was going to say, some real food.”

It was close to 11 pm, but Eric insisted on chicken from his favorite late-night spot.

That was his name. Eric.

Eric paid both tabs, and they walked out of the bar, hand in hand as if it was something they’d been doing for years.

He opened the passenger door to a car she couldn’t name, but it cast a double-M logo onto the concrete. She slipped out of her heels and tucked her feet on the soft leather beneath her.

Now she was settling in.

They rode through Manhattan quietly. With one hand, she scrolled through the playlist displayed across the dashboard; the other threaded through his. His fingers tapped lightly against her knuckles while she scrolled until she found the perfect song.

ASMR by Maeta.

She waited for his reaction. A knowing smile spread across his face. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed the inside a few more times. They finished the drive in silence, making unspoken promises through song lyrics. She didn’t know much about this man, but she did know one thing for certain- he was the cure, at least for the night.

They took their food to go and ate picnic-style in the reclining back seats. They talked about music, art, travel, and all the things they had in common.

A familiar feeling overcame her. Eric impressed her. He was intelligent. Self-assured. Witty, which she preferred over funny, because it meant he’s creative and thinks quickly on his feet. She wondered if she’d ever feel this type of pull again, or if she had already met and lost her person. Every man after Jared had been forgettable, but she knew she would remember Eric.

So, where to next? She asked, making it clear the night wasn’t over.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Take me home.”

“What hotel are you staying at?”

She laughed, tossing a fry in his direction. “Take me to your home.”

His apartment was beautiful. It felt calm and deeply assured, much like him. They left their shoes at the door as he led her through the space. In the living area, bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with a wealth of literature. She lingered there, reading the titles printed on the spines of books. He stood at a wall of vinyl’s, pulling out one and then another until they settled on something.

Whimsy by Destin Conrad.

He pulled her close and hummed mismatched lyrics into her ear as they swayed to the music. When their lips finally met, it was soft only for a moment before his mouth met hers with urgency, his tongue demanding more as he pulled her closer. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her down the hall to the bedroom.

They made love three times that night.

The first time was feral. Their bodies collided, hands frantic, touching everything at once. There were no pauses between positions. They were loud, breathless, messy.

The second time was slow and intentional. Nothing was rushed. The room was quiet, the silence giving way only to smacking lips and soft moans. Hands lingered, eyes followed every movement.

By the third time, their bodies were heavy. Movements were smaller, breaths quieter, the intensity settled into a drowsy, calm release. They drifted to sleep together, arms and legs intertwined.

Shani woke up just before six. Carefully, she unwrapped herself from his hold and moved quietly into the bathroom to dress. She needed to get out of there before words could complicate what had been so beautiful. Before promises were offered, and expectations took shape.

It had been a perfect night. One that reminded her of who she was and proved that her desires were not confined to a single person. When she was ready, she knew she could find this feeling again.

She slipped one of her cards from her wallet.

If you’re ever in Chicago, she wrote. She added her address on the back and left it on the nightstand.

Back at home, Shani felt more like herself than she had in weeks. She blocked Jared on everything, no longer needing to witness anything just to prove she was unbothered. She stopped avoiding the people and places she loved simply because they reminded her of him. She realized she had been holding on so tightly because she believed Jared was it, but her night with Eric had resolved that certainty.

She’s received a few texts from Eric here and there, casual check-ins, invitations to see each other again. She was open to it, but without expectations.

After weeks of declining social invitations to avoid sympathetic looks and passive, how are you, really, inquiries from those who knew her well, Shani decided to go out on a Friday night.

Fresh out of the shower, her phone lit up. Pressed for time, she ignored it. Minutes later, a knock sounded at her door. Slightly confused because she wasn’t expecting anyone, she tightened her robe and opened it.

Jared stood there.

“I made a mistake.”