by J. Saman
Damn, I’m so stupidly nervous. “Hello,” I start, but my voice is weak and shaky and I have to clear it get rid of the sound of my nerves. Shit. My hands are trembling. Pathetic.
He doesn’t look up. Awesome start.
I play it off, staring around the dimly lit bar and taking in all the people enjoying their Saturday night cocktails. It’s busy here. Crowded. And filled with the heat of the city in the summer and lust infused air. I open my mouth to speak again, when the person seated next to my Miserable Stranger and directly behind me, gets up, shoving their chair inadvertently into my back and launching me forward. Straight into him.
I fly without restrain, practically knocking him over. Not enough to fully push him off his chair, he’s too big and strong for that, but it’s enough to catch his attention. I see him blink, like he’s coming back from some distant place before his head tilts up to mine as I right myself, before my attention is diverted by the man who hit me with his chair. “I’m so sorry,” the man says with a note of panic to his voice, reaching out and grasping my upper arm as if to steady me. “I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I’m beat red, I know it.
“Did I hurt you?”
Just my pride. “No. Really. I’m good. It was my fault for wedging myself in like this.” The stranger who bumped me smiles warmly, before turning back to his girlfriend and leaving the scene of the crime without further commentary.
Adjusting my dress and schooling my features, I turn back to my Miserable Stranger, clearing my throat once more as my eyes meet his. “I’m sorry I banged into you…” My freaking breath catches in my lungs making my voice trail off at the end. Goddamn. If I thought his profile was something, it’s nothing compared the rest of him. He sits back, crossing his arms over his suit clad chest as he takes me in from head to toe. He hasn’t even taken off his dark jacket, which seems odd to me. Especially since it’s more than warm in here and summer outside.
His eyes sparkle as they reach mine again. They’re green. But not just any green. Full on megawatt green. Like thick summer grass green. I can tell that even in the dim lighting of the bar, that’s how vivid they are. They’re without a doubt the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.
“I don’t mind,” he says and his thick baritone, with a hint of some sort of accent, is just as impressive as the rest of him. It wraps its way around me like a warm blanket on a cold night. Jesus, has a voice ever affected me like this? Maybe I do need to get out more if I’m reacting to a total stranger like this. “I love it when beautiful women fall all over me.”
I like him instantly. Cheesy line and all.
“That happen to you a lot?”
He smirks and the way that crooked grin looks on his face has my heart rate jacking up yet another degree. “Not really, but since you just did, maybe you should sit down before you do it again.” He blinks like something caught his attention. Glancing past me for the briefest of moments, that smirk transitioning into a full-blown smile. “I think your friends are keen on the idea actually.”
“Huh?” I sputtered before my head whips over my shoulder and I catch Rina, Aria and Margot standing, watching us with equally gleeful smiles. Margot even freaking waves. Well, that’s embarrassing. Now what do I say? “Yeah…um.” Words fail me, and I just sink back into myself. “I’m sorry. I just…well, I recently broke up with someone and my friends won’t let me return to the table until I’ve reentered the human female race and had a real conversation with a man.”
God, this sounds so stupidly pathetic. Even to my own ears. And why did I just admit all of that to him? My face is easily the shade of the dress I’m wearing and it’s bright motherfucking red. He’s smirking at me again, which only proves my point. I hate feeling like this. Insecure and inadequate. At least it’s better than stupid and clueless. Yeah, that’s what I had going on with Matt. So how nice is it that I have a few more fun descriptive adjectives to add to my list?
“I’ll just grab my drink and return to my friends.”
I pull some cash out of my purse and drop it on the top of the wooden bar. My fingers slip around the smooth long stem of my glass. I want to get the hell out of here. But before I can slide my drink safely toward me and make my hasty, not so glamorous escape, he covers my hand with his and says, “No. Stay.”