I can’t even blame drunkenness, because I only had one glass, but I already want him.
He brings the flask to his lips and takes another shot without ceremony.
When it looks like he’s about to start taking yet another draw from the flask, I frown, holding out my hand to touch the metal.
“Hey, go easy on yourself,” I tell him. “Nobody can handle shots back-to-back like that. Do you always come out here to drink during your shift?”
“No. I was planning on sketching something, but then you appeared.”
“Sketching?”
He nods toward his bookbag, which is on a short metal table by the door. On top of it is his red notebook.
He flips it open to a random page, and I step over to look.
It’s not a journal or a diary like I thought. It’s full of his art.
On the page that’s open, he’s drawn an impressive bird in flight, with giant, black outstretched wings, spanning two whole pages and with its claws going over the crack at the center of the sketchbook. It looks severe. Drawn rough around the edges, and artistically styled. But it’s very well done for something that he just doodles in his free time during his shifts.
Beautiful. And a little monstrous.
So he’s talented, incredibly attractive, and doesn’t let anyone fuck with him.
I barely know him, and already I like him too much.
All the more reason for me to get the hell out of here, quick.
“I could draw for years and never do anything that good,” I tell him. “Even my stick figures are ugly.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, waving his hand through the air.
“Don’t be modest. This is amazing.”
I see a black SUV turning the corner of the alleyway.
“You have a private black car service? Exactly what do you do for a living?” he asks me.
“I’m in the film industry,” I tell him, which isn’t really a lie. “Have a good evening.”
Before I get in, he stops me.
“Are you coming back into the bar later?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m too fond of that single malt. I’m making too many bad decisions lately.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Come back anyway. I like the attention.”
The way he says it makes my cock throb, and that’s just another reason I shouldn’t go into the lounge again.
“I don’t think you actually want the kind of attention I’d give you.”
Something twinkles behind his eyes. “But you want attention fromme.I heard you asked about me yesterday. Got a crush?”
I puff out a laugh, despite myself. “Fuck off.”
One corner of his mouth comes up in a smile too, and I see a dimple on his cheek.
Jesus.
