But I don't move. Don't do the smart thing and leave him sitting there.
I lean on the bar next to him. Side by side. Cradle my head in my hand and just wait. Casual. Pretending my lungs aren’t too tight and my body isn’t too aware of the size and strength in this man.
He lifts the glass to his lips and just like last Friday, I am mesmerized by the movement in his throat. Who knew something as mundane as swallowing could be so captivating?
I am not going to think about pressing my lips to the pulse in his throat or running my fingers over that same spot.
"Want to talk about it?" How’s that for witty? I need Flirting for Dummies or something.
There is a scab over his right eye. "Are you my fairy god-therapist?"
I shrug. "Nah. Just thought I'd offer. You know, return the favor from the other night."
His lips are flat and tight. "I run off a dude hassling you, and now you get to listen to me solve all the world's problems?"
"Maybe not the world. How about just yours?" He's prickly but I'm not afraid of him. There is something about him that feels…not safe. That’s the wrong word. No, never that. But something that makes the risk…worth it. "I'm a pretty good listener."
He turns back to his drink and tosses back the remains. "It's complicated."
"Always is."
He rests his forehead against the empty glass and looks so broken and sad, it cracks the ice around my heart just a little bit.
I reach out. Hesitant. More afraid of his reaction than my own. My fingers brush against his shoulder before coming to rest on his upper arm. "Hey."
It's a long moment before he looks at me.
I immediately remove my hand from his arm. There is a coldness in his eyes. A threat of violence for invading his space.
Message received.
Graham walks in at that moment, rescuing both of us from my awkward attempt at comfort.
My hand is shaking from the encounter when I reach for my check from him.
"You working tonight?" Graham asks.
"You know it." I shoot him a look, willing him to leave me alone.
Graham pins me with a lifted eyebrow, and I shake my head slightly. Please don't say anything.
But not our Graham. My best friend leans against the bar and taps the polished mahogany in front of Mr. Tall, Dark and Psychotic. "So our girl Fergilicious here is recently single, having had her heart stomped on by a bastard of an ex who I am obligated to hate for the rest of our natural lives. She's studying public policy and has a natural talent for upside-down pineapple cake that really should be listed on her resumé."
There is curiosity now in those dark green eyes. Gone is the cold threat of violence. Like it was never there.
But it's not something I can forget so easily.
Because I know what I saw. I know where the bruise over his eye came from. A man like this…I know this kind of violence. This kind of rapid change in temper and mood.
And that's my cue to get the hell away from him.
I look at the massive oak clock over the bar and fight the urge to stab Graham. He means well but damn it, just because he’s started dating Mr. Right doesn’t mean he gets to find my happily ever after for me. "Yeah. Anyway. I'll see you tonight, Graham."
Graham, of course, takes that opportunity to sneak away. Leaving me alone again with…him.
“Wait; you work here?”
So, of course, I’m standing here, answering the question he asked, and wondering about the ones he doesn’t. "Is that bad?" I ask cautiously.
"No. Just surprising." His voice is warmer now, his words thick.
"Why?"
"I figured everyone at this school is…not the kind of people that have to work their way through college."
In my head, I smile and pat his cheek in a slightly flirty and not quite condescending way.
In reality, I stand there, thinking of all the ways I could respond. "Well, that's what you get for stereotyping me," I say with a gentle smile. "Though I've never been mistaken for wealthy. I have been asked if I wanted to pay for something with cash or food stamps."
He looks down my body, then back up. I can't help but feel like I just went through some kind of inspection. I’m not even sure if I’ve passed or not. "That's pretty f*ck
ed up."
"You've never been stereotyped?"
He stiffens. It's subtle, but there in the slight flare of his nostrils, the tightness in his back. He tries to play it off but I've been watching people for far too long. "People think I'm wealthy because I drink here."
It’s a lie. One I might not have caught if I hadn’t been paying attention.
"I've never seen you here before."
"It's my first time."
And just like that, I am completely confused by the man sitting in front of me.
He is a puzzle. One for someone else to solve.
I walk away before I do something infinitely stupid.
Like ask him his name.
Chapter 3
Josh