Zaine
Zaine stared at his phone. For years now, he'd wanted more with his best friend than just friendship, but he'd not broached the subject out of fear of ruining said friendship. The last thing he wanted to do was lose her. Knowing he was one of her favorite people in the world was bittersweet.
He knew he had an hour to get his emotions under control, but what he wouldn't give to be able to pull her into his arms and kiss her when she arrived.
He watched the clock, and sure enough, an hour later Sorcha sashayed in the door. He watched her cross the floor and had to discreetly adjust himself. She looked damn sexy in her tight-ass jeans and bustier that pushed her tits up, making his mouth water.
“Hey, you,” she said when she reached his side and hugged him.
He savored her embrace for the few moments he had it. “Hey yourself, Angel.” He'd called her that one day a while back, and it just stuck.
“Bourbon and coke for the lady,” he told the bartender.
“Thanks, Babe,” Sorcha replied, and when the drink was handed to her, she took a sip.
Babe. What he wouldn't give for her to be calling him that for real. “You're welcome,” he replied.
“I see what you mean about your new DJ, she knows her music,” Sorcha said as she started to move to the beat.
Zaine admired the way she moved. Sorcha had a lithe figure and damn the woman knew how to dance.
“Come dance with me, Zaine,” she said, taking his hand and dragging him to the dance floor. She sipped her drink while she danced.
When Sorcha ground against him while dancing, he stifled a groan. She was killing him, and she didn't even know it.
They danced for a while before Sorcha fanned herself. “Let's take a break,” she said over the music.
He led her to one of the round tables and they sat. When he'd bought the club, it had had plain wooden chairs. He'd changed them out for plush, padded chairs in red velvet and black lacquer. The walls had gotten a fresh coat of black paint, with red trim, and the black tables were trimmed in gold. Gold sconces with red bulbs decorated the walls, and red overhead lighting completed the look.
“I still love the changes you made to the club, especially these comfy seats,” Sorcha said once they were sitting.
“Gotta keep my customers happy,” he replied. “So, how tall is this Finley you're going on a date with?”
“He's about your height, maybe a little taller,” she told him.
“So, at least six feet. He towers over you, just like I do,” he said with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah. I'm not short, I'm vertically challenged,” she replied and made him laugh.
“Fuck, you're so fun to tease.” He nodded to her empty glass. “Want another one? I need a drink myself.”
“Sure. Just one more, then I'm calling it quits because I have to be at the bakery at 5 am.”
“I don't know how you can get up so early four days a week.”
“Dedication, Babe. I love working there, especially when I get special customers,” she replied.
“Like Finley,” he said.
“Yeah, like Finley.”
“Okay, be right back with your drink,” he told her. He kissed her cheek before he left.
“I need a bourbon and coke, and a tumbler of Jameson,” he told Joel, the bartender.
“Coming right up. So, boss man, when are you going to take the plunge and tell the girl how you feel?” Joel asked.
“I'm not willing to risk my friendship with her. I'd rather have her as my best friend, than not have her at all,” he replied.
