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He raises his hand, and a server in a tight white shirt and black jeans saunters over, holding a tray.
“Is a rum and Coke okay?” he asks, looking at me politely.
“Sure.”
The server bounces off, and the man turns to me, cocking his groomed dark eyebrow.
“So rough day?”
I laugh and then cringe because it sounds homicidal.
“You don’t wanna know,” I reply, sipping the rest of my beer.
He nods, respecting my reply. “What’s your name?”
It’s out before I can stop myself.
“Paige.”
He can never know the real me because the real me is someone no one wants to know.
“Well, Paige, I’m Sean. Nice to meet you.” He extends his hand over my mound of glasses.
As my hand slips into his, there are no fireworks, no static—just nothing. Unlike Quinn, who can set me alight with a look alone.
“Likewise. So what brings you to…” I look around, trying to work out where we are. “Wherever the hell we are.”
We make small talk, and Sean proves to be quite a distraction, which is surprising. We’ve been sitting and drinking for a while, and I haven’t wanted to bail or claw my eyeballs out in boredom.
“What time is it?” I ask, knocking back a shot and making a pained face when the booze hits my empty stomach.
Sean holds up his watch and closes an eye to focus. “A little after midnight.”
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, grabbing his arm to look at his watch myself because he’s surely mistaken.
But he’s not.
I’ve been drinking with Sean for…I’m not sure how many hours, but it’s been a long, long time.
“You got someplace to be?” Sean asks with a smile, twirling his shot glass.
A niggling voice screams at me to say thank you and good night to Sean, but that would mean I would have to deal with the wrath of Quinn.
“Nope.” I shake my head, my hair slipping free from my bun. “The next round is on me.”
The next ten rounds are on me, and I know I’ll regret this in the morning.
But I’ll deal with it then because right now, I can’t even remember my name, let alone the bullshit mess I’m in.But I know that has nothing to do with the booze and everything to do with my brain needing a night off from overthinking.
“Where’re you staying?” Sean asks when we get kicked out of the bar because it’s closing time.
“Hmm, Château Rousse.” I trip over a step as I hit the sidewalk.
Sean whistles as I straighten up. “That’s a long way away.”
“It is?” I ask, blowing my hair out of my face as the wind has picked up.
“Yeah, like maybe an hour away,” he replies, snuggling into his leather jacket.
