The way he blushes might just be my new favorite thing.
Chapter Two
Eli
He called mepretty.
I’m a man. Men aren’t pretty.
But that doesn’t stop my heart from racing like it’s trying to escape my chest. And considering it doesn’t take much for my circuits to overload, that’s not exactly a good thing. So I take a few deep breaths, willing myself to calm down before I short-circuit right here in the middle of the garage.Again.
The sound of his voice, rough, teasing, threaded with something I can’t name, still curls around me long after he’s gone.
For one brief, impossible moment, I was soaking in it… his attention, his grin, the way his eyes seemed to actuallyseeme.
Then she started flirting with him.
He called herbeautiful.
And she is. She’s everything I’m not. Confident, lean, sunlit, and sure of her place in the world.
Not to mention… a woman.
And somehow,beautifulsounds stronger, more real, thanpretty.
Shaking my head, I force myself to focus. My fingers hover over the keyboard, trembling just slightly as I type. I finalize the last order of the day, pretending my chest isn’t tight and that his words aren’t echoing in the back of my mind.
“I don’t know why he wants to keep you employed,” Patrick says from behind me. “You lose this place more money than you make. But you’re his problem now. Are there any more orders?”
“No,” I answer quietly, ignoring the rest. “That was the last one.”
“Damn,” he sighs. “Thought we had at least a week’s worth left. Oh well. Be here bright and early tomorrow. You’re the only employee the man’s got. Poor bastard has no idea how hard it is to run this place.”
He walks out without so much as a goodbye, leaving the building’s keys clattering onto the desk in front of me.
I stare at them for a long moment, the metal catching the light like they hold some kind of answer.
I can’t help but wonder why the biker wants me to stay.
As cruel as Patrick’s words were, he’s not wrong. I don’t really know what I’m doing half the time. And sometimes… sometimes I have to step away, breathe, find a quiet corner to calm myself before I hit the floor.
The others think it’s funny. Like it’s a game. They see how far they can push before I pass out cold.
News flash: it doesn’t take much.
When I was a toddler, I was diagnosed with a condition called vasovagal syncope. Some doctors call it “reflex syncope.” Basically, my bodyoverreactsto certain triggers, dropping my heart rate and blood pressure so fast that the blood flow to my brain cuts off for a few seconds.
The result? Me waking up on the floor about a minute later, usually with a new bruise somewhere on my body.
When I was younger, the triggers were small. Too much excitement or getting jump-scared during a movie.
Now? Take those two and crank them up a few notches.
These days, my list includes: fear, anxiety, embarrassment, pain, guilt, seeing blood, confrontation, standing too long, standing up too fast, dehydration, skipping meals, exhaustion, sudden loud noises, flashing lights, and even strong smells.
My body…and honestly, mylife…is a freaking mess.
So, you can imagine how many times I’ve fainted at work. These jerks think it’s funny to rile me up just to see how much I can take before I hit the floor. Then they get pissed when I’m trying to recover and not doing my job fast enough.
