He sees me coming, watching me dart through the crowd. I get as close to him as I dare. Something about the guy just seems to radiate danger. But by the time I reach him, his eyes are once again elsewhere.
“Hi,” I say, brighter than I feel. Forcing myself not to take a step back when his eyes slide to meet mine. “Remember me?” I tilt my head rather adorably to the side. “The girl you owe an apology to?”
He arches a brow but doesn’t deny it—Doesn’t say anything, actually.
“I figured out how you can make it up to me,” I continue, since he is giving me absolutely nothing.
His head tilts ever so slightly to the side as he considers me. “Is that so?” He speaks for the first time and,oh god, his voice. Deep and dangerous with an intoxicatingly addictive lilt of an accent that I’m far too distracted to place. It shakes my nerve, ignites my core, and I nod quickly—too quickly.
“Mhmm.”
He eyes me as if to say,Well, go on.
“I need a favor.”
“No.”
“I—no?” The rejection is so immediate I don’t know how to react, so I just freeze.Do I keep going or…
He just stares back at me as if he’s silently asking,And you’re still here because?
Wow. Amazing. Perfect. Love that for me. I’ll just go die of embarrassment now.
Too bad for him—I’m desperate. I chance a glance over my shoulder and spot Ben standing with Mia and Cassie, his gaze flicking between me and Mr. Miserable. I recognize the storm clouds brewing in his eyes.
“Listen.” I sigh, rubbing my hand down over my face, regrouping. “I know how this is going to sound, and I really don’thave time to explain—but could you, like… pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”
“Just for a second,” I breathe out, almost desperately, before I give him a chance to answer. My eyes plead with him to say yes.
He leans in, studying my face, before dropping his eyes to run the length of my body. My breath catches under the intensity of it, my lungs forgetting how to work. I’m still breathless by the time his eyes find mine again and he leans back against the bar.
“No.”
“N-no?” I stutter out in shock, my cheeks burning now.
“No,” he repeats in confirmation before looking past me, resuming his casual surveillance of the club. A quiet dismissal. He offers no explanation and doesn’t even bother to look apologetic about it.
“Why?” I blurt out, unable to help myself.
His eyes widen for a fraction of a second as they snap back to me, as if surprised that anyone, especially me, would dare question his choices. But the surprise vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by a glare so icy I shiver.
I shift uncomfortably on my feet, caught between my tattooed nightmare’s glare and the burn of my ex-boyfriend’s watchful gaze on the back of my neck.
“Please?” I try, one more time. “You don’t even have to do anything! Just stand there and look boyfriend-y.” I wince when his gaze narrows further, because on what planet wouldthisguy ever look ‘boyfriendy?’ “I’ll owe you one!” I bat my eyelashes a few times and force a small smile, nodding to coax ayesout of him.
He tilts his head as if he’s actually considering the proposal before the ghost of a smile appears on his lips. Sharp and fleeting, like he’s enjoying a private joke. The sight of it gives me hope, even if it feels like I might be selling my soul to the devil to avoid my ex-boyfriend, but desperate times…
“No.”
Wow, he sure likes that word.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, humiliation snapping into anger at his repeat rejections. I release a small scream of frustration.
Reigning myself in, I take a deep breath, an unhinged level of calm falling over me. “Fine. Fine. That’s—fine.” I thrust my thumb back over my shoulder. “I’m gonna go. Enjoy being miserable, I guess.” I roll my eyes, spin on my heel, and walk away from the asshole, flipping him off without so much as a backward glance.
Fuck. Him.
4
