“Did I get it right? Can I order you a drink?” Deacon breaks the quiet.
Hayden’s eyes linger on me for what feels like forever before he turns back to him. “I actually just stopped in to pick up my food, so I’ll have to try that drink another time.” He flags down the bartender as his name is called, accepting the to-go bag as he slides off the barstool. “See you.” He gives us an awkward little wave and bolts for the door.
“Told you it was futile.” I sip my beer, watching him retreat.
“Yeah, you did. You could’ve said you wanted him for yourself, though.”
“I’m not into dudes.”
Deacon cocks a brow at me. “Almonds?”
Spinning to face him, I don’t even try to hide my eye roll. “I have to stand near him every damn day. Of course, I know what he smells like.”
“Of course,” Deacon agrees with a wicked grin. “You correctedme,though.”
“So?”
“So, why bother? We were supposed to be testing if he’d hate me, but you said something to make him like you. Or signal that you’ve been paying attention.”
I rub my temples with my hands, trying to drown out his words. “Fuck, man. Stop talking in riddles. You’re making my brain hurt.”
“Then get your head out of your ass.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He turned me down.” Deacon swallows the last of his beer.
“Again, so?”
“People don’t do that, man. I can get… They just don’t do that.” He spins his empty glass on the bar, and for a second, I’d swear he almost looks conflicted. The image clears when I shake my head.
“The only thing he feels for me is hate. It’s mutual.” I finish my drink and slap a few bills on the counter as I stand.
“Where are you going?”
“Home. Where I can drink without you or anyone else trying to mindfuck me.”
I stalk toward the door, not caring when a lady holding a kid sidesteps me with wide eyes as I storm past. Fucking Deacon. When the hell did he get so nosy?
So, I recognize what Hayden smells like. So what? All that means is I see him way too much, and it’s not like I have a say in that. And he didn’t turn Deacon down because of me. He turned him down because he’s uptight, which will totally backfire since Deacon probably sees that as a challenge.
I should warn Frosty about that. He may be a pain in my ass, but he’s good to Max, so the least I can do is tell him to watch out. Deacon may be my friend, but Frosty is my boss—sort of—so life would be a whole lot easier if Deacon didn’t take him for a ride and leave me todeal with the fallout.
That doesn’t mean we’re friends, or even that I like the Ice Prick. It just means I don’t want any more drama in my life than necessary. At least for the next few weeks, until I’ve paid my debt or whatever.
Just as I come to that decision, I realize my feet have carried me back to the adaptive center instead of the bus station. I can’t even begin to process why that is—I just need to get it over with and get out before this crazy ass day drags out any longer—so I barge through the door, causing Hayden to jump from where he’s standing behind the rental counter.
“Stay away from Deacon,” I bark, pointing my finger at him for effect before I spin toward the exit, my good deed done.
“What?” The venom in his voice has me rooted in place as he rounds the counter and barrels toward me so fast, I take an involuntary step back.
“You heard me.” I recover, standing my ground.
“Who are you to order me around?” He stomps right up to me, so our chests are practically touching, and I have to look down to see his face.
“Not ordering. Warning.”
“I think I’ve proved that I can take care of myself. You didn’t come with a warning label either, and I’m doing just fine.” His arms brush against my stomach as he crosses them over his chest. It makes me lose my train of thought for a second.
