by Ava Kendrick
I shuffled to the end of the bar and took the same seat as I usually did: the most isolated one in the dimmest area of the bar.
“Hey buddy, you want the usual?”
I nodded and tried to smile; I didn’t have the energy. I knew it looked more like a snarl than anything. Well, fuck it. I didn’t care.
“Busy day at the office?” he asked, opening my beer.
I shrugged. “Same as always.”
The ancient door squeaked open and I noticed with a start that it was the girl from the night before.
Why is my heart racing?
I took a swig of my beer and watched as they made their way to the bar. It was almost empty, apart from one or two small groups scattered among the rickety tables. I pretended to be engrossed in my beer as they came closer and closer.
I’d forgotten all about Dmitri now. I didn’t know why my heart was beating so fast. I kept my eyes on the bar in front of me as they sat down five or six seats away and ordered beers and chasers. I couldn’t help but tune into their conversation—they weren’t exactly trying to keep the volume low.
I glanced up. They were sitting in the same positions as the previous day; the pretty brunette facing me. I looked back down, but not before I’d registered the redness around her eyes as if she’d been crying. I felt a tug of rage at whatever had caused her sorry.
Get the fuck out of here, Roman.
I reached up and ran my palm across my forehead, alarmed to find it clammy with sweat. Who was this woman and why the hell was she setting off this reaction in me?
Run.
It was my first thought; the first thing my brain told me to do.
But my limbs didn’t listen. It was like something else in me was calling the shots. I shook my head. No. I swore I wouldn’t do this.
Yeah, Roman, you’ve sworn a lot of things.
I closed my eyes. I’d gone there to get away from the silence in my apartment and now this was happening? But I’d known, hadn’t I? I realized I was staring at her. I looked away quickly, but not before she caught my eye and flashed me a smile that was at once sweet and sinful.
My heart soared and then sank.
What the fuck?
I told myself to get up and get the hell out of there, but my legs felt like lead. I stayed there, rooted to the spot. She was going to get me in trouble, I knew. But I’d gone there when I could have stayed away. I wanted her.
I needed her.
Six
Cleo
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
I’d just had one of that evening’s rare moments of clarity and I suddenly felt guilty for dragging Julia around what felt like every bar in the city.
“What for?” she asked, floating in front of me like some kind of vision.
I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to focus. Everything was becoming hazy. “For dragging you here. For spending the past two hours moaning about how much my life sucks.”
My resolution to bring out my wild side had quickly faltered after several cocktails. I was just too much of a basket case to even think of letting my hair down. And besides, none of the guys who approached us had been…
“Come here, stupid. You’re allowed to complain when your life sucks. And it’s not like I don’t owe you. The number of times I’ve called you in the middle of the night…”
I held her tight, clinging on to her like she was the only lifeline I had.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered.
She pulled away and held my face in her hands. “Don’t cry, sweetie. It’s going to be okay. I promise. We’re going to find you a new job. And a great new apartment. And a hot new boyfriend; one who treats you right.”
“I don’t want a new boyfriend.”
“Well a hot one night lay, then. Whatever you like.” She held up her glass and I clinked mine against it clumsily. “The world is your oyster, honey.”
I smiled, sipping my drink and allowing myself to believe her. It couldn’t get much worse, right?
“C’mon,” Julia said.
“Wha—” I held up my glass to show her I still had half my drink left.
“Down it. We’re going to Tully’s.”
I frowned. “That place is even more dead that here.”
“Sometimes it’s busy. We’ll check in. If it sucks, we’ll go somewhere else on A.”
I nodded. I felt like an idiot, but suddenly the image of the guy from the night before swam into my tipsy mind.
“What?” Julia demanded.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Cleo,” she said sternly. “You forget how well I know you.”
I rolled my eyes. Honestly, I’d forgotten how impossible it was to get anything past her. “Do you think that guy will be there?”
“The guy you were staring at all night.”
“I wasn’t… Oh, whatever. Yeah, him.”
Julia opened the door. I glanced around. To my disappointment, I didn’t see him. We walked to the bar and sat down. The place was quiet like I’d expected. But Julia was already making moves on Tony the bartender. I rolled my eyes and looked around as I sat up on my stool.
And then my heart stopped—at least it felt that way. There’d been a guy in dungarees standing between us, but he’d moved. And there he was. I didn’t even know his name, but the sight of him sent shivers down my spine.
I told myself not to act like such an idiot. It wasn’t like I was an eighteen-year-old virgin. I was a grown woman, and there was no reason why I should go weak at the knees over some guy I’d never spoken to. I glanced at him again. He was hot. Seriously. Hot.
He glanced up then, and a bolt of lightning shot through me when our eyes met. I looked away, feeling rattled.
“Jules,” I hissed, as quietly as I could.
She flat-out didn’t hear me. She was totally engrossed in her conversation with Tony.
“Julia,” I said again.
“What?” she smiled.
“It’s him,” I hissed, subtly jerking my head in the direction of the guy from the night before.
A light came on in her eyes. “Ah.”
I nodded, feeling shy all of a sudden.
“You should go talk to him,” she said, her face scrunching up in mischief.
“Nah.”
“Why not? You’re young. You’re hot. You’re single.”
I shook my head, feeling my cheeks start to burn.
Julia fixed me with a determined stare. “You just told me earlier that you were letting your wild side out.”
I shrugged.
“Cleo,” she said with a slight slur to her words.
“Yes?” I asked, sneaking another glance at him.
“You get over there and speak to him. Or I’ll do it for you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
She nodded. “I would.”
She would. Even if she didn’t want to, she’d do it. Julia was the most stubborn person I knew.
I glanced at him again. The guy seemed totally oblivious to his surroundings; running his fingers around the rim of his beer like he was mulling over the problems of the world. I wondered what he was thinking.
“Fine,” I giggled, feeling courage I didn’t usually have.
I pushed myself off my stool and stumbled slightly.
“Oops,” I mouthed theatrically to Julia.
I was drunker than I’d realized. But hell, my brain was fuzzy and I wasn’t thinking. That was all I’d wanted. I walked slowly and carefully along the bar, determined not to wobble. It was busier now that it had been when we’d arrived.
When I had almost reached his side I realized that I had no idea what I was going to say to him. I glanced back over my shoulder at Julia, but she was deep in conversation with Tony. I was on my own.
“You live in the area?” I asked, sidling up to him and easing myself onto the vacant stool beside him.
A little voice inside me told me not to be so fucking lame, but I tuned it out.
Who cared anyway? I was homeless and unemployed. I was gonna have a little fun. Besides, what would I have said to him if I hadn’t been fuzzy drunk? What do you think of the latest polls? I wasn’t exactly a flirting pro even when I was sober.
Steely blue eyes stared back at me. It seemed like he was debating something with himself and I found myself even more intrigued by him.
“Silent type, huh?”
He grinned and shook his head. “I guess you could say that. You want a drink?”
“You want a drink?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Yeah. But I think you have a better chance of getting served in a dry county than you do right here.”
I nodded down the bar, not that I needed to explain what I meant. Tony was leaning across the bar making out with Julia. A queue had formed—something I’d never seen in Tully’s. I had to hand it to Julia: she knew how to cause a scene.
He followed my gaze. “You’re right.”
We lapsed into silence. “So… Want to go someplace else?”
Surprise flickered across his face. Surprise and hesitation. I swallowed, reminding myself that it didn’t matter a dime if he rejected me or not.
Except it did. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than those rough hands on my body. I almost couldn’t bear the anticipation anymore, but even my wild side wasn’t wild enough to suggest that we go straight back to Julia’s apartment.
“You got someplace in mind?”
I shook my head. “You’re the local.”
He looked thoughtful. “Come on,” he said, a couple moments later.
A bolt of excitement shot through me as I stood and followed him to the door. I stopped beside Julia and practically had to tear her face off Tony’s.
“We’re going someplace else.”
She frowned. “Where?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
She shook her head. “And how do you know he’s not a murderer?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, you’re the one who basically instructed me to sleep with him.”
“That’s different.”
I laughed. “What? I can sleep with a murderer, but not go have a drink with him?”
She smiled. “That’s not what I meant. Give me a sec. I’ll come with you.”
“What about Tony?”
“Fuck him.”
“No.” We’d always had each other’s backs, but that had never gone so far as one of us leaving a date to play babysitter for the other.
“Whaddya mean? I’m just looking out for you.”
I stroked a long strand of blond hair away from her face. “Julia. You’re being overprotective. It’s sweet. But you don’t have to come. Stay here. Be gross and PDA’y with Tony.”
She made a face.
“I insist. I’ll call you when we get to the next bar.”
She shrugged. “Fine. But if I don’t hear from you in twenty minutes, I’m coming to find you.”
Seven
Cleo
I woke up with a start. My head was thumping, like it always was those days. But this was different. I clenched my fingers to my temples in an attempt to stop the pain.
Ugh.
I opened my eyes slowly, each shaft of light setting my head on fire again. I cursed myself for not learning from my experience the day before. I opened my eyes again and looked around. Something wasn’t right. Julia’s apartment was light and airy. Bright. This place as different. Dark and oppressive. I sat bolt upright.
Where the hell am I?
The bedroom was neat and tidy, but sparse. Memories of the night before flooded back to me. Him.
Oh god.
It wasn’t like I regretted anything. How could I, when I’d wanted to fuck him from the moment I’d set eyes on him. No, I wasn’t sorry for sleeping with him. It was the fact that I couldn’t remember it.
I groaned and pulled the black quilted comforter up to hide my face. I couldn’t remember going to bed with him, but patches of the night before were flooding back to me. I squeezed my eyes closed. I’d known I was drunk, but I hadn’t cared. I’d been actively seeking oblivion, after all.
We’d left Tully’s and strolled down the street. I’d done my best to act flirty and mysterious, but… fuck. I’d clung onto his arm and demanded to know what a sexy guy like him was doing alone in a bar. I remembered the look on his face.
Oh no.
But it got worse. Much worse. The last thing I remembered was a dark and crowded bar, where we’d somehow managed to find a small round table all to ourselves. Which wouldn’t have been so bad. Romantic, even. Except in my intoxicated state, I’d thought it was a good idea to climb up there and…
I closed my eyes and hugged my arms around myself.
I’d tabledanced. I’d fucking tabledanced.
That was all I remembered. And believe me, I was thankful for that. I could only imagine the cringe-inducing, porn star performance I’d put on for him. Maybe it was a blessing that I couldn’t remember it.
I threw off the covers and glanced around the room for my clothes. It didn’t take long—the room was so sparsely furnished that there was only a dresser aside from the bed and the nightstand. My clothes from the night before were neatly folded on top.
I pushed myself off the bed far too quickly and my vision swam. I bent double, waiting for the unpleasant sensation to pass. The doctors had told me to call them immediately if I felt faint, but somehow I doubted that this counted. It was less to do with my head injury and more to do with the goddamn tequilas I’d shot.
When I felt semi-normal again, I padded to the dresser and picked up my clothes. I frowned. My underwear wasn’t there. I looked around again. It wasn’t lying on the floor, either. It took me a couple seconds to realize that I was still wearing my sensible black bra and panties.
Huh?
Before I could think about it, I was distracted by the most delicious smell I had ever sensed. Bacon.
Figuring I had no way to avoid him short of prying open the tiny window, I threw on my clothes and padded out of the room.
The bedroom led straight into the living room. Past that was a kitchen, where he was standing in front of the stove. He glanced up and I felt a pang. He looked even better than I remembered, in black boxer briefs and a tight-fitting white tee that revealed his strong muscular arms.
“Good morning,” he said, his deep blue eyes burning into me.
And in that moment, I really wished I could remember fucking him.
My stomach rumbled hungrily, reminding me that it was rude to just stand there and leer. “Morning,” I whispered, stopping awkwardly in the middle of the living room.
“I figured you might be hungry,” he said, smiling.
I got the feeling it was a facial expression he didn’t use much—yet here he was smiling at me, and cooking me bacon as he did so. I took another step closer, looking around. Like the bedroom, the rest of his apartment was neat. But that was all I could say about it. There were no soft furnishings, no pictures; just the bare essentials.
“You just moved in, huh?”
He glanced up at me, fixing me to the spot with those penetrating blue eyes. My stomach lurched—how the hell could I forget fucking him? How was that even possible? Even from several feet away, one glance from him set off desires in my body that old boyfriends hadn’t managed with actual physical touch.
He shook his head. “I travel light.”
“Oh.”
He reached over and grabbed two plates from the rack. “Good night?”
I froze. Oh shit. “Yeah it was great,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twisted up in amusement. “What was your favorite part?”
I closed my eyes. He wants me to rate his performance? What kind of narcissist does that?
I shrugged. “Hard to pick a favorite.”
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
He shook his head as he pil
ed the bacon on top of thick-cut slices of bread. “You don’t remember.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and deliberately. “Hey, what’s new, right?” I said, as breezily as I could.
“Don’t worry. Nothing happened.”
My stomach plummeted with disappointment. “Oh. Okay.”
He threw the pan in the sink and wiped his hands on a cloth hanging from the rail of the stove. “I’m Roman.”
“I know, I remember.”
“Also known as sexy mystery man.”
It took a couple seconds for his words to sink into my hungover brain. When they did, I threw my head back in embarrassment.
“I called you that?” I groaned.
I glanced around the room again—anything to avoid his eyes
“Oh, sure,” he grinned, picking up the two plates. He dropped them on the table and turned his attention back to me.
“Oh god,” I whispered.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I thought it was cute.”
You did? I swallowed those words and went to join him on the couch. I thought back. What the hell had possessed me to call him that? And what else had I done?
“What other embarrassing shit did I do last night?” I asked, stacking the crispy bacon between the two huge chunks of bread.
“Where do I start?”
My eyes widened.
He shook his head and grinned. Again it seemed like that was out of character for him, but I told myself to stop overanalyzing. How the hell did I know that exactly? I’d only just met the guy.
“Hey, come on,” he said softly. “I was kidding. Your friend called when we were in the bar. It was loud. You told her where we were and that you were with the sexy mystery man.”
I nodded, feeling momentarily relieved. And impressed—not only was he built like a fucking professional fighter, he had a sense of humor too. Then the image of me table dancing popped into my head again. “Was that before or after I decided to put on a show?”
He laughed. “Oh before. I had to get you out of there pretty fast after that. The manager wanted my balls.”
“You brought me home.”