Heavy licked his lips, eyes roaming Goodies, the hole-in-the-wall spot she suggested they go to after dinner. Her chicken and shrimp pasta from Pearl Tavern had hit the spot just enough to cure her appetite.
“Yeah. I’m glad you’re keeping up.” That meant she wasn’t drunk yet. Good.
“I have to since someone doesn’t want to drink with me.” She fake pouted, poking that bottom lip out, which made Heavy’s chest tighten.
This girl, man.It wasn’t that he didn’twantto drink. He couldn’t. Not when he had her with him and especially, not in public. He’d given himself a two-drink limit and had already reached it with the first two shots.
“I’m letting you enjoy yourself. Don’t look at me like that.”
Could she hear the pleading in his tone? Her heavy, glossed eyes fanned with lashes she hadn’t cried off were as intoxicating as the liquor. Cyren was so fucking beautiful to him; Heavy caught himself staring multiple times throughout the evening. He didn’t give a fuck and wouldn’t, unless she said something. He liked what he saw.
“Like what?” Cyren was being bashful.
Picking up her shot glass, she tossed it back and hurriedly bit into the lime wedge. The more she drank, the less she grimaced. The less pain she felt.
“How am I looking at you?” She reframed her question.
Like you need me to give you all the answers to them unknown questions floating around in your head.
That was too heavy a reply, but it was the truth.
“Like batting your eyes and poking that lip out is going to make me change my mind.”
Cyren grinned, sipping some of her water. “Whatever,” she said, playfully rolling her eyes. “Thank you, though. Had it not been for you getting me out of the house, I would’ve probably gotten my food to-go and been holed up in my room crying.”
Her sad chuckle wasn’t missed, and Heavy hated the sound. Still, he was grateful for his interception, nonetheless.
“You were off work today?” he asked.
“I don’t have a job right now.”
Heavy bobbed his head once. “That’s coo’.”
His expression didn’t change at her little white lie, and Cyren couldn’t even keep it going. Laughing, she shook her head.
“Chu’ laughing at?” Heavy asked.
“You. I told you I didn’t have a job, and you didn’t even flinch.”
He shrugged. “It’s a lot of mothafuckas out here without jobs. What? You thought I’d judge you?”
Cyren didn’t know what type of response to expect from him. She was used to people looking at her crazily when she’d given them that answer in the past. It’d been the truth then. So, yes. Maybe she did think for a fraction of a second that’s what he’d do. That’s what everyone seemed to do, who hadn’t been in her shoes. They couldn’t even fit, find, or finance the painful ones she didn’t ask to wear. The style was of an otherworldly quality, inaccessible, and expensive as fuck.
Eyeing him, Cyren noticed how serious he was. “I guess. I do have a job, though. It doesn’t feel right working on her, I mean, on their birthday, so I took off.”
She lost her job after Nicole passed away. There weren’t enough bereavement days or PTO that could cover for her. Thankfully, she had graduated with her bachelor’s the year prior; otherwise, she would’ve been a dropout.
“Nothing wrong with that. Where you work at?” He was interested in all things Cyren.
She sipped more of her water. “The credit union. I process loans and a few other things. Nothing too serious.”
“You probably be at work playing on them folks’ clock,” Heavy teased, making her laugh.
Her pearly whites and the smallest hint of a gap showed. Her prominent cheekbones lifted, forcing her eyes to close. The amass of curls fell forward, as she found humor in his words.
“I do not. They love me up there.”
A presence invaded their space before Heavy could let her know that he was sure they did. What wasn’t to love about her?
