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I’ll be honest with you. I spotted Callan walking into the restaurant before the asshole at the bar even started with me. Callan walked in and it was as if the entire place froze and then simultaneously moaned. The woman on my left certainly did. He was captivating and confident, but there was something in his eyes that said he was unapproachable.
That piqued my interest, and I did a slow drag, taking in his tall form and muscular physique, and then turned back to my drink. I wasn’t here for that tonight and didn’t have it in me to try.
Even if he was,is, hot as all fuck.
But then that guy got seriously pushy. He got right up in my face, touching me in ways he had no business touching me, taking liberties with my food and drinks I did not give him, and I needed an out. Usually, you tell a guy you’re there to meet a date and they back off. Not this one, and Callan was the only guy sitting alone.
And when he got all alpha male possessive? Yeah, that was also hot as all fuck.
So now I’m sitting here, eating edamame, flirting shamelessly, and drinking heavily as I desperately try to wipe away what is easily one of the worst days I’ve ever had. And coming from a woman who lost both her parents in a car accident when I was six, that’s saying some serious shit.
“What do I need to get off?” I parrot, actually thinking about that. Normally I’d say something witty and possibly a bit crass. That’s the road I was headed down, but his question made me pause and with that, I’m once again thrown off my game. “Honestly?”
“Sure,” he says flippantly, taking a sip of his freshly delivered tequila before setting the glass down. “I like honesty and feel like that’s the plane we’re on. Not to mention, it’s an answer I’d like to hear.”
“All right.” I snap apart my chopsticks, buying a few extra seconds before I force my gaze back up to his. His eyes are blue, but not just any blue. They’re cobalt. Deep and lustrous like the metal. Almost familiar to me. He’s familiar to me. “I don’t know what would get me off tonight. My mind is a hot mess of a minefield, and it doesn’t seem to want to stop exploding. I’m flirting with you, and it’s fun and diverting and I don’t want to stop. Maybe that’s all I need right now. Someone to take my mind off everything else.”
My absolute favorite professor ever dropped dead earlier today. Right in front of me. And there was nothing I could do about it, though I tried. The man was dead before he hit the floor, but I’m a freaking med student. Saving people is what I want to do, but I couldn't save him. I did CPR for over ten minutes while waiting for the EMS crew to arrive and pronounce him dead.
To pile onto that—not that there is anything more tragic or upsetting than that—about thirty seconds after they zipped the body bag and loaded him onto the ambulance, I received a call from my landlord informing me that my apartment flooded due to a massive leak in the roof.
All of my stuff is destroyed.
I moved into that apartment two months ago after moving out of my ex’s place and it was finally starting to feel like home. Now this.
I don’t care so much about my furniture—that can all be replaced—but I had things in there. Things from my childhood. Things that I’ve collected and held on to. Things thatcannotbe replaced. Then there’s the other thing. The thing I should no longer care or think about. The reason why I will only do one-nighters and refuse to make time for love or relationships for the foreseeable future.
I squish a piece of gyoza between my chopsticks, dip it in the sauce, and then pop it into my mouth. I chew as he marinates on what I just put out in the air between us. He watches me as I swallow, and then I chase down the dumpling with more tequila.
Sitting forward, he polishes off his second drink and then stands. My eyes track him and my body shifts back in my chair automatically.
“Come with me,” he says, extending his hand out to me.
“What?”
“You said you were wild. Prove it. Come with me,” he repeats.
“Wild and stupid aren’t synonymous. Where are we going?”
“Someplace where I can take your mind off everything. Something tells me it’ll do the same for me, and then we’ll come back and eat our sushi, and if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to take you home with me to finish things off.”
Heat swarms through me like a pack of bees, dancing with the butterflies already fluttering in my belly.
“Have you ever done this before?” I don’t know why I ask. Maybe to know what level of player he is. Maybe to ascertain if my instincts are leading me astray.
He grins, his expression guileless as he answers, “Never. Not like this anyway.”
Throwing caution to the wind, I wipe my mouth with my napkin and stand, placing my hand in his. It’s warm and strong, and his palms are calloused, and immediately I’m hit with that same dizzying sensation I felt when his hand captured my wrist.
I don’t know him. Yet it feels as though I do.
I trust him. I can’t explain that either. It’s instinctive. Something inside me that tells me I’ll be safe with him. It also tells me I’m going to love every second of whatever he has in mind for me.
He intertwines our fingers just as more thunder booms from beyond the glass windows. It pops a smile to my face and makes my heart jump. Excitement ripples through me as he leads us through the restaurant to the back. For a moment, I expect him to take me into the bathroom, but he doesn’t. He continues on, clearly knowing his way around, and then he’s opening a door that simply says office on it.
“What are we doing? Whose office is this?”
He doesn’t answer me. He just drags me inside the empty and dark room. The lights stay off as he shuts and locks the door. On my next breath, he has me pressed up against it.
