“I know you didn’t ask for my advice, or my help, but what kind of Samaritan would I be if I let you get five hundred dollars in debt from a completely avoidable trip to the hospital?” he says.
I school my expression to the best of my ability, but my tone is clipped when I speak. I haven’t looked at my annoyer yet, and I’d prefer to keep eye contact limited at this point. “Don’t worry, nobody’s watching your selfless act of kindness. You don’t need to pretend to care.”
“Who said anything about pretending?”
I hate the way my curiosity betrays me, because hook, line, and sinker, that gets me to turn right toward him.
He’s a disturbingly attractive man—the kind of attractive you only see on billboards or movie screens. He looks to be about six foot three, and just going off the wideness of his shoulders, there’s no question in hell that he’d be able to throw me across the room like a ragdoll right now if he wanted to.
His eyes are blue and enticing, like the undercurrents of a churning sea. I feel like he’s a stare away from tricking me to dive into their misty depths and drown below treacherous waves.
His blond hair falls from its middle part and frames the sharp blades of his cheeks. He has a jawline that could grate cheese, as well as huge biceps that bulge outwards. If that’s any indication of his muscle distribution, he probably has a matching set of abs that are about as solid as a barbecue grill under that flimsy shirt of his.
Oh, and I think he has dimples. Maybe. Jury’s out.
“You’re…” I slur, my cheeks turning rosy. Come on, brain! Work! Form sentences!
“Dashingly handsome? Super muscular? A young Leonardo DiCaprio?” Mystery Guy says, a full-throated chuckle breaching his very kissable lips. They’re plush and pink, and his lower one is slightly bigger than the top. I watch with rapt focus as his tongue slides out to wet them, then disappears behind a row of pearly-white teeth.
My own heart is thudding in my ears like a caged bird. I was going to agree with him, but the next set of words out of my mouth aren’t anywhere close to a compliment.
“…full of yourself,” I finish.
That was supposed to be an inside thought, Aeris. AN INSIDE ONE.
“I like to think of it as having a healthy confidence,” he muses.
I laugh, but it comes out humiliatingly flat. “More like being flippantly cocky.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that your way of calling me attractive?”
Attractive? ATTRACTIVE? Are you kidding me? He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“How did you possibly get that from what I just said?”
His cheeks puff out a little from the coy grin that crests between them. “You can tell a lot about a person from what they don’t say,” he tells me.
“You’re not hideously ugly, but don’t get a big head, alright?” I grumble.
“Oh, there’s plenty about me that’s big besides my head.”
As if on cue, my eyes slide down to his crotch, and then I immediately avert my gaze. My nervousness elicits a laugh from him, one that has his shoulders shaking and his voice thick with gravel.
“I’m not making you nervous, am I?” he drawls, scooting an inch closer to me, just waiting for me to walk right into his trap.
“You’re not making me nervous. You’re not even all that. If I had to guess how big your penis was, I’d say a three-inch punisher at best.”
Oh, God. Why did I just say that? The last thing this conversation needed was the addition of a discussion about male genitalia. ABORT!
He scrubs a large hand down his face, catching on the stubble dusting his jaw. “Damn, that’s being generous. I normally can’t get it up most days.”
I want to crawl into a hole and die. Embarrassment grips my body as any and all words rut against my throat, so I settle for a good, old-fashioned smile. But I don’t think it’s very charming. More like one of those awkward smiles people give each other when they’re passing one another in the grocery store.
Upon seeing my flustered expression, he corrects himself. “It’s a joke. I’m joking.”
“Riggght. Right.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, both of us unsure how to continue the conversation, both particularly interested in the conveyor belt of people moving through the small space.
Finally, he caves.
“Are you here by yourself?” he asks.
Look, I’m smart enough to know I should never answer that question if a stranger asks, but there’s something that seems trustworthy about this guy. Then again, I’m pretty sure girls said the same thing about Ted Bundy, and, well…
I take another sip from my drink to occupy my mouth, nodding my head.
“And how much have you had to drink?” he hedges, folding his arms over his chest, testing the tight sleeves of his shirt. He’s looking at me expectantly, those baby blue eyes of his shimmering with concern as his lips bow into a frown—a frown that still happens to be attractive, mind you.
I blink owlishly, holding my fingers up and swaying a bit in my seat. “I…uh…I lost count,” I whisper.
The muscle in his jaw moves in tight circles, and he claps his hands together and points them right at me. “Let me guess. You’ve just been broken up with?”
I shake my head.
“You’re hiding from your boyfriend because you caught him using a lava lamp as a butt plug?”
A laugh sneaks its way out of my mouth, and as much as I want to frown, the corners of my lips give way to a smile. “I wish,” I reply.
“You wish you caught your boyfriend bumping his ugly with a household object?”
I glide my hand through my hair, suddenly wishing I hadn’t finished my drink so quickly, but if I order another, my bank account is going to cry. I probably won’t even have enough for groceries this week.
“I wish it was as simple as boy problems.”
My knight in shining armor casts me an easygoing grin. “Does this mean you don’t have a boyfriend?”
He guns me down with a look that has my lungs decompressing all the air out of my body, and I swallow the leftover alcohol greasing my throat.
“Is that your way of flirting with me? Dazzling me with an award-winning smile and hoping my jeans will just fly off like tear-away pants?”
“Actually, most women tell me I don’t even need to smile. One look at me and they’re as naked as the day they were born.”
“Oh, how charming.”
He winks at me. “It’s a gift, really.”
Nerves wring my stomach, and heat spreads through me like a well-trained wildfire. I have no doubt in my mind that this guy has a roster full of ladies. Hell, his Friday nights probably consist of orgies galore.
“Well, your gift isn’t needed here. I’m doing perfectly fine, thank you.” I gesture to the accumulation of empty shot glasses stacked near me.
A lie. A lie that tastes worse than the bite of tequila.
He turns to face me, outstretching one arm against the bar counter, boxing me in from making a quick getaway. “Who says I was flirting with you?” he quips, spying the motion my tongue makes as it flicks out over my bottom lip.
There’s something in the way he’s staring at me—something that puts my entire body on high alert, and something that has my vagina rubbing her nonexistent hands together in the belief that she’s about to get some tonight. Which, she’s not.