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I nod. “Absolutely.”
He signals Slimy Stan. “Bartender, can we get another round? I’ll have a bottle of Rogue IPA, and my friend here will have...”
I trace my fingers over the rim of my shot glass. “The same.”
Stan scowls when he notices my new friend. He quickly masks his displeasure and says, “Sure thing.”
Sexy Eyes flashes his perfect grin again. “So, Birthday Girl, do you have a name?”
“I do,” I say, “but I’m not giving it to you.”
He frowns. “And why’s that?”
I tip my freshly delivered bottle to my lips. “Because I have a strict no-name policy for one-night stands.” It’s true; I do. It’s less complicated that way.
His eyes widen in surprise but I don’t miss the underlying interest. “Well, then you have no worries. I’m not interested in sleeping with you. So what’s your name?”
I laugh to cover the sting of his rejection. “So, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that if I wanted to drag you into a dark corner right now and fuck your brains out, you wouldn’t be interested?”
He nods his head slowly and places his hand over mine. “That’s exactly what I’m saying—I’m not interested in a mindless fuck. With you or anyone, for that matter.”
Jesus, my panties are soaked from just listening to his resonant voice, even if the words are toxic to my fragile self-esteem. I bite my lower lip and give him another good once-over. “You’re not tripping my gaydar—which if I may say so, is pretty damn accurate—so what gives?”
He rubs his chin thoughtfully and smiles. I can’t help but fixate on the subtle scratching sound the motion makes. “So, a man has to be gay to turn you down? I never said I wasn’t interested in getting to know you. Asking your name seems like a great way to start.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued by this guy’s approach. “It doesn’t matter which name I give you—I could easily lie to placate you. But why bother? Let’s just call this what it is and move forward. Sound like a plan, Sparkles?”
He laughs. “Sparkles?”
“I give people nicknames,” I explain with a shrug. “Your eyes—they’re really blue…and sparkly. Hence, Sparkles. No real names. No complications.”
“You couldn’t come up with something a little more…manly?”
I wink. “Nah, I like Sparkles.”
He laughs. “As amusing as this game is, I’d like to at least know the reason behind your no-name policy.”
I slowly cross my legs as he watches with blatant interest. “I already told you; it’s less complicated that way.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Well, that’s a cop-out if I’ve ever heard one. Could you at least give me something a little more original? Or better yet, how about the truth?”
Nope, because if you knew how fucked up I am, you’d go running for the hills. This conversation is teetering dangerously close to the edge of an abyss that I can’t afford to fall into again. I put my fake bravado in place and give an exaggerated sigh.
“Look, Sparkles. Can we forget about any games and just get on with this?”
“And what exactly is this?”
I lean forward and slowly move my hands up his powerful thighs. “I want you.” Holy hell, I really do. I can’t remember ever wanting to lose myself in someone this badly. I go a little bit further to whisper in his ear. “And I know you want me, despite your earlier denial. Do you think I can’t see your jeans tightening? Hear your breath hitch?” I lick the shell of his earlobe. “See your pulse racing as your eyes trace my every move? Why don’t you take me somewhere so we can make that happen?”
He braces his hands on my arms and shifts me back onto my stool. He assesses me briefly before asking, “Is it really your birthday?”
I smile wide, easily predicting his next question. “It is.”
He raises a single brow. “Which one? How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” I answer without skipping a beat. “How old are you?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a pull from his bottle. “Twenty-six.” He pulls out his wallet and throws a couple bills onto the bar. He stands and reaches out to take my hand. “C’mon, Birthday Girl. Let’s get out of this shithole.”
