I make my way over to the bar, nodding at people as I go. The magical masks mean that I can’t truly distinguish people’s faces, like somehow the picture of them won’t fully form inside my head. That leaves a thrill inside my belly. Everyone, including myself, is anonymous tonight. If for any reason, I want someone to see my true face, all I will have to do is simply remove my mask, but until then, no one will be able to know who I am. Tomorrow, they won’t remember my face no matter how much they try.
As I get closer to the bar, one person in particular catches my interest. He’s tall and handsome, wearing what I can only guess is a designer suit. It’s black and kinda plain but the way it fits him tells me it was hand tailored just for him. It fits him like a well-loved glove.
The way he kinda wiggles his hips, moving from foot to foot as he leans against the bar tells me he’s nervous about all of this, nervous about being here. My heart gives a little flutter. I find that adorable.
Everything inside of me is drawing me in this direction. It feels like I’ve gained some sort of tunnel vision. Everyone else just fades into the background. There’s no music, there’s no people, there’s no attractions, there’s just getting close to this man untilI can meet him. It’s a strange sensation but one I’ve learned to trust, especially after my magical lessons with Nash.
Just as I walk close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder, the man turns quickly, splashing the front of my chest with his drink.
“Fuck,” I say, just as he yelps, “sorry!”
I look down at myself and then I look up at him. I feel frozen in place. Oh. My gods. His eyes widen and so do mine. That same magic flutters across us, making it so we can’t distinguish each other’s features but still, somehow, I know that this man isbeautiful.
I realize with a start that my hand is on his arm. Warmth fizzles across my skin, running up my arm and stopping at the center of my chest, right where my heart lies. My heart thumps so loudly, I swear everyone in the room can hear it.
“Hi,” the man across from me says, his voice achingly soft. His voice is like music and I swear I could listen to it all night.
“Hello,” I say back, unable to keep myself from smiling.
“What’s your name?”
“Viktor.”
“Viktor,” he says it back and good lord, I like the way my name sounds in that light, musical voice of his. “I’m Duncan.”
At the sound of his name, I tighten my hand, only realizing right now I’d latched onto Duncan’s arm when we collided. I can feel my cheek heating, neither of us letting go. Duncan opens his mouth to say something but the barkeep is suddenly there.
“Gentlemen? I have a towel here to help clean up the mess.”
Our little bubble is suddenly popped. As much as I miss the touch as soon as Duncan pulls away, I’m glad for the reprieve. There will be time for staring later. At this point, people are going to start thinking we’re a couple of weirdos, just standing here touching and staring like that!
“Sorry,” Duncan says again, passing the towel from the barkeep over to me. I shake my head with a smile as I take it, carefully dabbing the front of my suit. With a little spark of magic, I clean up the rest. The last thing I need is to be standing around in soaked clothes, especially as most of these aren’t even mine.
As Duncan tosses the rag back onto the bar, I watch as the pixie from earlier, Bex, hurries behind the bar. She’s talking to workers and shuffling things around. She catches my eye then looks between Duncan and I. With a knowing smile, she hurries back on her way.
She knows something that I don’t.
“Another Dirty Shirley?”
“Yes, please,” Duncan says.
The barkeep looks to me. “And for you?”
“Uhh,” I look up at the board filled with tonight’s special cocktails. One of them has a funny name. “I’ll try one of your event flavors. The uhh, Festive Fuzzy Nuzzy, please.”
As we wait for our drinks, Duncan and I stand side by side, leaning against the bar. I can feel him beside me, so fucking close yet not quite touching. There’s an itch at the back of my brain, driving me to get just a little bit closer, to bridge that gap between us.
I stay where I am.
“So,” I start to say, but Duncan talks as well.
“Did you--”
I smile at that, turning forward just as the barkeep drops off our drinks.
“There you go, try not to spill this time,” he says with a wink that makes me chuckle warmly.
“I really am sorry about that,” Duncan says as he picks up his drink.
