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“Hawk, you can’t just crash my date like this.” She seemed cross.
Was she really having a good time with this douche?
Said douche tried to speak, but I raised my hand to stop him.
“Rebekah and Roman...” I said and waited for her response.
She shook her pretty head in confusion. “What about them?”
“They just walked in.”
Her eyes went wide in alarm. “Fuck!” When she realized her potty mouth, she turned to douche to apologize. He seemed less than impressed. Carefully, she looked over my shoulder and spotted them. “Shit... what do we do?”
“Get rid of your date, for one.”
Her good nature got the better of her and she battled with having to be rude.
“Justin, I’m sorry.”
He actually recoiled as if slapped. “Really? Why are you listening to this guy?”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “There’s just stuff... um... going on... and it’s terrible timing... sorry. But I’ll cover the bill.”
“Damn right you will,” the guy spat angrily. He stood, almost knocking his chair over. When he turned to leave, the douche muttered something under his breath. Something sounding awfully similar to the words slut and cunt.
I was in his face before he took his next breath, my physique engulfing his.
Britta wrapped her hand around my arm and pleaded with me to sit back down. “Hawk, just sit. It’s not his fault.”
The surrounding tables started paying unwanted attention, so I did what she said. Douche did a nervous twitch before escaping while I claimed his seat.
“You can wipe that smug look off your face,” Britta said, doing her best not to smile.
“We’ve got something to celebrate.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“Our first official date.”
She laughed, her smile lighting up the room. “I can’t say I mind your perfectly timed drop in.”
“Oh, is that right?”
“Well, this...” she gestures around the table, “... wasn’t my idea. I struggle to say no to my brothers.”
“Does that mean if I say we leave now so I can fuck you the way you deserve, you’ll say yes?”
Britta’s cheeks flushed when the elderly patrons from the neighboring table passed a look of disdain. “No,” she barely managed.
“You little liar.”
Caught out, she threw her head back and laughed.
The waiter stopped me from throwing her over my shoulder caveman style, by passing a plate in front of me. When he left, I noticed what had been ordered. Looking between the meals, I couldn’t believe what I saw.
“What piss-weak excuse for a man orders a salad when his date orders a steak?”
Britta snorted her wine and used the napkin to wipe her face.
“Could you stop,” she attempted to scold through giggles. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”
“Well, this is a coincidence,” a voice pulled us out from our little bubble.
Although Rebekah was feigning a smile, the strain in her eyes was definitely real.
Both Britta and I leaned back in our chairs and watched the train wreck of a couple approach.
“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” Rebekah commented.
“Yes, weird,” was all Britta responded.
Roman approached, touching his wife’s waist. He completely ignored me and focused on Britta far longer than he should. He didn’t get to do that anymore. She wasn’t his. That ended a long time ago.
“Saw you almost about to throttle that guy,” Roman queried, a knowing smirk on his face. “Was he hitting on your girl?”
I narrowed my gaze, smiling at the cockhead’s audacity. “Our relationship isn’t built on lies... unlike some.”
Across the table, Britta covered her smile.
Rebekah shifted uncomfortably, and Roman looked like he was attempting to restrain his temper.
“Well...” he said. “Is that why Britta was snooping around after me?”
“What?” she interjected angrily.
“Sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong?”
Rebekah looked on the verge of tears, muttering something under her breath. She was embarrassed by her husband’s absurdities.
Was she staying with the asshole to spite herself? I couldn’t place what her reasons were. Typically this situation called for the guy to be decked. But... it was kind of amusing.
“Britta snooping around after your cheating ass?” I asked, scoffing at the idea. “Don’t flatter yourself, hotshot.”
“No need to flatter myself. I’m married now,” Roman said, pulling his jaded wife closer as if that was supposed to convince us he wasn’t a dickhead.
“So, act like it, and maybe for once keep your dick in your pants,” Britta replied.
For whatever reason, Roman seemed amused by her reaction.
That’s what this was... a ‘bad publicity is good publicity’ type thing. As long as he was the center of attention in Britta’s world, good or bad, he was happy.
What a sad sack of shit.
This time Roman turned to me, his snide smirk on full beam. “Hawk... how’s Rita?”
My gaze flicked to Britta. Her expression was hard to gauge.
I turned my body to face him for the moment, I felt compelled to land my fist in his smug face. “Roman, I’m not into second chances, so consider yourself lucky in this situation you’re still in one piece. I’m also not into sloppy seconds, so whatever you have going on with your redheaded fuck friend, that’s none of my concern, and...” I stood to change the power play. He stepped back, knocking into the seat behind him. “If I hear you involve Britta in any of your bullshit drama, or if you come near her again, I promise I will pull your tiny limp dick through your throat until you choke on your own little boy boys.”
