But I am the one who will crawl over broken glass to see you safe.
I’ll do it willingly and without complaint.
I’ll let you ruin me, Eris. With a kiss, a look, or a single word.
I’m the one who hears what you don’t say and listens to your silence.
The one who knows what you hide and still wants more.
That really shouldn’t make me smile, but it does. I even have these seriously warped butterflies hosting aerial assaults in my stomach, taking bites out of my flesh to remind me of the equally warped reality I live in.
These men have no idea what I hide.
That’s one thing I’m sure of right now.
We get to the bar a quarter after ten.
The music is loud, muffled by the steel doors, but once inside, the bass seeps into my bones. Dim lighting hangs overhead, creating shadowy corners. Sconces line the walls, illuminating the booths and artwork. The air is thick with heat and liquor.
Roo orders the first round before I’ve even found a stool. The bartender flirts with her as he makes our drinks, and I instantly miss Hardy. But he doesn’t drink, so he won’t come out with usbad influences.
I can’t blame him.
We are pretty terrible sometimes…
“Tonight,” Roo declares, voice raised as she holds out our shots. “Tonight, we forget everything. Stalker ex? Fucking dead. Creepy app? Just horny code. Us? Hot as hell.”
I laugh as I clink my glass against hers. The vodka burns all the way down, leaving a fiery path in my chest.
Roo spots someone she knows and nods her head in the direction she’s about to disappear in. I just smile and shoo her away to conduct business. There are too many eyes on me right now; I can’t help her work, even if I am one half of this partnership.
By the time I finish my second cocktail, a decently handsome guy sidles up beside me a little too closely. His elbow brushes mine; his eagerness to grab my attention is annoying. It feels like he’s testing how far he can invade my bubble before I move.
I turn in his direction and give him an exasperated once-over.
“You look like you could use a refill,” he says, pointing at my empty glass just as the bartender brings me a fresh drink.
“I’m good.”
“How about I buy the next one? And in return, you tell me your name?”
“I’m good,” I repeat, keeping my tone and expression bored.
He leans in, mouth twisting like he’s used to hearing yes. “Come on. A drink for a name, then I’ll go back to my buddies…” He trails off, as if he’s waiting for me to cut in.
I just stare at him, rolling my eyes as his gaze dips to my chest for what I’m sure he believes is asuper fastglance.
I contemplate telling him to get lost, throwing my drink on him… or slamming his face into the bar top to release some of my rage.
Just when I think about blending all three options, a hand touches my lower back. I stiffen at the intrusion, but the stranger removes his hand just as quickly. He steps between us, effectively blocking my violent outburst.
The new stranger is a tall man, his broad shoulders squared defiantly as he tilts his head and looks down on the unwelcome bar buddy I’ve accidentally acquired.
The stranger doesn’t speak, though he appears to be studying the guy in what must be an unnerving way based on the way his expression morphs. I can’t see my savior’s face to judge the silent showdown accurately.
“She’s not interested,” he finally says. He’s not loud, but the bass in his voice carries all the same.
Bar Buddy leans his head back. It’s not a fast motion, though it is enough for me to witness the hesitation in action.
