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‘Apparently.’ I shrugged and put on another smile as I tried my best not to think of anything that would ruin my night.
‘In the whole three months we’ve been hanging out, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you touch alcohol … You must be really stressed about your job, I guess?’
I gave a laugh that came out more like a squeak and diverted my gaze outside the window, hoping he would change the subject so I didn’t have to think about Daniel and the lean times that were bound to reoccur.
Deb butted into the conversation and slung her arm around my neck. ‘What’s going on here, aye?’ She waggled her eyebrows. ‘Everyone is leaving like weaklings. You two kids keen to keep drinking up like champs?’
‘Alright, I’ll have one more.’ I looked at Seb’s impressed face. ‘What about you?’
‘For sure.’ He held his drink against mine, and our glasses clinked.
Deb grinned. ‘Hell, yes. Great choice, Naomi.’ She raised her free palm, and I gave her a high-five. ‘I’ll walk everyone out, then we’ll get this party started.’
Oh my, was I seriously going to drink more? How will I work tomorrow? With the hangover from hell, I’m sure.
2
One Too Many – Part Two
As the night went on, the drinks kept flowing, and Seb didn’t shy away from saying what he was thinking.
‘So, are you going to let me stay tonight, or should I count on Billy to drop me home?’ he asked with that intense gaze – it was his way of ‘peacocking’.
‘Sure. You can crash on the couch if Deb doesn’t beat you to it.’ I flashed a cheeky smile.
God, he’s cute, I mused as I studied his physique. His strong build resembled that of a football player – broad shoulders, a well-defined chest, muscular arms, and narrow hips. Despite his arrogance, there was an undeniable allure to his face and physique that drew me in.
‘Is that right?’ He lifted his manicured brows. ‘So even though we’ve cuddled heaps of times in your bed, youstillwon’t let me sleep in there?’ His voice was heavy with frustration.
‘Oh relax. I’m just kidding,’ I said, swatting his hand and laughing.
‘You’re one challenging woman, you know that?’ He leaned over the table, and I caught a whiff of his beer breath as he whispered, ‘Will you ever let me taste you?’
Seb reached his hand under the table and placed his warm palm on my thigh.
My eyes widened at his words, and my immediate reaction was to push his hand off, but I decided to place my hand on his and pat it like you would in an awkward hug situation.
I swallowed hard before answering. ‘Seb, I’m not ready for anything sexual just yet.’
He moved his arm from my leg and folded both of his hands across the table. ‘Sorry, Naomi. That was wrong of me. Your blonde hair just turns me on.’
My face flushed crimson, and I glanced around to see if anyone had overheard, but there were only a few patrons left in the restaurant. Deb stood outside, deeply engrossed in conversation with Victor and taking intermittent puffs from her cigarette.
‘Yeah, I like it too.’ I smoothed my hair down and smiled, hoping for a change in subject.
‘I wish I didn’t have to work away for two weeks. The mines pay bloody great money, but not seeing you for that long … It’s tough, Naomi, and I know how hard it’s been for you with your new job.’ He looked deep into my eyes with a vulnerable look on his face.
I wanted to cry at the continual mention of my work situation, but I fought off the sensation and instead decided I’d definitely be having a third drink.
‘Yes, it was tough losing my previous job, but they closed, and there was nothing I could do about it.’
The effects of the vodka were in full swing, and avoiding talking about work was a losing battle as the stark reality of my job situation sunk in.
‘Do you know what’s even tougher? Never being a full-time employee. Every job I’ve had, it’s been as a casual. I put so much effort into the kitchen, like you would not believe. I’ve read countless books, and everything I know, I owe to my dad – he taught me all the fundamentals. But do you know what hurts the most? People always branding me as just a “cook” and treating me as if I’m less simply because I’m not a “qualified chef”.’
I shook my head at the thought, feeling the insides of my stomach burn. Employers always seemed fixated on labels when it came to me securing a job. Those labels were like an instant golden ticket to earn respect, propelling you above the others in the mountain of resumes. Skill only seemed to matter if it was backed by a certificate.
Seb’s eyes lit up with surprise. ‘Babe, you really need another drink. It will help relax you.’
