“But I do believe it is connected to air conditioning units,” I muse more to myself, remembering her rather strong reaction to my installations.
Though I’ve enjoyed sitting on the sidelines tonight, I feel that may be where I belong. Even without her power running rampant, Goldie enchants and charms whether she is swaying her hips to music or joking with the patrons. Does she have any idea how bright she shines?
Maybe it’s the siren ability, but I can literally see it emanate from her, a warm aura she shares with anyone in the vicinity. I possess none of her whimsical nature but being close to it warms me.
I must have said something out loud in dude-speak to that effect because my neighbor answers, “There’s something I can unequivocally agree with.”
It’s then a guy strolls up to the bar, with a swagger I doubt is deserved. The blonde pretty boy heads straight for Goldie. His confident strides have an air of belonging with the place, an intimacy that leaves me feeling suddenly out of place.
Goldie’s eyes connect with him and there is familiarity there.
After a minute, I recognize him as the guy who tried to intervene when I was getting Goldie out of harm’s way from the bar brawl.
I can't shake off the uneasy knot forming in my stomach as I watch them together. He leans in to speak to her even as her mouth flattens. The way Goldie tilts her head to listen to him, I sense a connection that I cannot read from this distance, but it's there, subtle and yet undeniable.
I catch Cinder's eye, her nose is scrunched in disgust as she watches them too. I lean towards her, needing some information to douse the burning jealousy flaring up within me. “Who is that guy?” My voice is tight, restrained.
Cinder makes a retching sound, "That's Lawrence, her on-again, off-again ex. A real loser.”
My eyes return to the two of them, as Goldie slips away so they can talk off side of the bar. “Then why is she talking to him?”
I hear it in my tone. Jealousy. It throbs in me with angry waves that want to push me to my feet and close the distance between me and them.
Her reaction to him isn't like it is to all the other men who belly up to her, wanting her to love them. The familiarity is real, a connection is there, even if it’s only a lingering thing.
“Goldie's too nice to turn anyone away outright,” Cinder says, disdain evident in her voice.
“Yeah, I got that,” I mutter back.
Over by the massive tree, Lawrence leans in closer to Goldie, his hand pressing against the wall behind her, cutting them off from the rest of the bar. His body language screams possession, a clear trespassing into what I have come to consider as my domain.
My bear roars within me, a primal urge to protect what's mine threatening to overtake my calm demeanor.
Calm the hell down, Ted. Everything is fine.
Goldie tries to maintain her composure, but her smile has vanished, replaced by a tense line of restrained frustration.
Nope. I’m up and stalking across the bar in a second. Lawrence doesn't see me coming, too wrapped up in his pathetic attempt to reclaim what he no longer has any right to.
Lawrence’s voice rises enough for me to catch snatches of accusations and demands. “This game has gone on long enough. You know how good we are together, baby girl. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I need you. You take such good care of me.”
Instantly, I recognize the reason they keep getting back together. Goldie’s heart is bigger than she even probably knows. This son of a bitch has been playing on her helpful, loving nature. But what the fuck has she been getting?
Then Lawrence dips down and lays his lips against hers.
I surge torward them, my fingers wrapping around Lawrence's shoulder and wrenching him away. His eyes bulge in surprise, followed by a scrutinizing icy glare.
“Who are you?” he challenges. Tension crackles through my muscles as the pretty boy stares me down with contempt.
Goldie’s eyes widen when she sees me. “Ted?” she asks. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
I reach out for her wrist and pull her out from under the slimeball who kissedmygirl.
She’s not your girl.
She is even if she hasn’t admitted it yet.
“Ted?” Lawrence repeats with dry amusement, as if my name is a joke. No part of me is even slightly humorous right now.
