“Right…the bartender.” I’m sarcastic when I speak, though I do remember him checking me out last night.
“Ask him.” He glances toward the bar again, the same bearded guy from last night serving drinks.
“I’m not going to ask him if he’s into me. That’s crazy.”
“Well, you wanted to know. He’s right there. So… ask.”
“No!”
He lifts his hand toward the bar, flicking two fingers at the bartender toward us, like he owns him too.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m proving something to you.”
“By making me look like an idiot?”
He grins. “You’re not an idiot. You’ve just got it in your head that I’m someone way more nefarious than I am.” He laughs. “Don’t get me wrong, still nefarious, but like I said…. I wouldn’t hurt you. I didn’t hurt anyone.” His gaze lowers as though there’s something on the tip of his tongue, but he’s interrupted by the brawny bartender approaching our table.
The man glances toward me, his focus set to my tits first. “Can I help with something?”
“Actually,” Viktor says, “my friend and I were just talking, and I mentioned that you showed interest in her last night. She’s the shy, untrusting type so can you confirm we had a conversation?”
I look toward the man. “I’m so sorry, I—”
“He’s right,” the man says. “I saw you in here last night with your friend. I was hoping you’d stay longer and talk.”
My face heats to the temperature of hell as I hold a strong gaze on Viktor.
The bartender continues. Obviously, he can’t read the room. “Maybe we could meet up sometime. I—”
“Like I said, I’m sorry. You should probably cut him off.” I nod toward Viktor and smile before the bartender walks away.
“Thanks for ruining this bar for me. Any other places you want to cross off your list?”
“No, but I’d like to know where you work, what your goals are, what you dream about at night, and how you take your coffee.”
I laugh so hard and loud that it’s borderline obnoxious. “You… I’m not done with my questions yet. Are you following me? How long have you been following me?”
He leans forward again. “I’ve seen you around.”
“I knew it! I knew you were following me. Why?”
He runs his gargantuan palm over top his beard, his gaze intense with mine. “Following you implies there was no purpose. I have a purpose.”
I scoff. “And what’s that?”
“I told you I’m interested.”
My stomach hollows. “So… you don’t follow someone around when you’re interested. That’s creepy as fuck. Look, I know I have to finish this class but you need to stay the hell away from me or I’m calling the cops.”
“The cops? Wow, straight to the men in blue. They do have a habit of being helpful, don’t they?” His comment is sarcastic, and oddly true.
I should stand up and leave. This is over. He’s just some weird asshole. Instead though, I pull out my phone and snap a photo of him with intent to show him a side by side of he and Max, or at the very least to have a photo to show to the cops when I end up murdered and mutilated. But he snatches the screen from me, his large hands covering mine as he effortlessly removes the photo.
“Do that again, and I’ll put you over my knee and spank your ass until you’re screaming,” he says with a growl.
That feeling, the one where you’re on a roller coaster spiraling down at an undefinable speed, that’s what this conversation feels like.
