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“I don’t know.”
“I do. You just said you wanted a connection. Get in there, girl! Connect! Learn to speak to them in their language.”
Damn it. Did she read my mind? There’s a double sting when your words come back to haunt you.
Dropping my shoulders, I have to face defeat. After all, what’s one drink going to hurt?
“Okay.”
“Okay? Okay! Great.” Without warning, she grabs the blazer off of my shoulders, fluffs my hair, and more or less kicks me towards the bar unceremoniously.
“See you later then.” My words chop out ungraciously as I stumble towards the bar. I’m not sure if that was encouragement or downright abuse, but I’m glad either way. Silvy’s right. How can I make connections if I don’t meet anyone? There has to be more to this crowd than meets the eye.
“Hey cutie, I’ve got a seat over here for ya!” a large Kiphian yells at me from the corner, patting the seat next to him. Okay, maybe not.
Suddenly I don’t feel as confident as I did before, especially when my eyes lock in on a certain Kiphian I pre-logged as undesirable number one. He pops his head up at me in a cocky I knew-you-would-come stare that has me burning on the inside. I can’t help the laugh that escapes me or the fact that my feet seem to be wandering in his direction.
“I thought I might see you here,” he shouts over the music.
From up close, he towers over me with slate gray skin that catches my attention with blue markings that cover his arms up to his neck. I’m not well-studied in Kiphian skin etchings, but the royal blue of his marks makes me wonder if he shares noble blood with any of the ancient families.
“I thought I might check things out tonight.” I want to sound casual but covert. Not too eager.
A smile twists across his lips. “What are you drinking?” he asks with his hands on the bar. Without his heavy coat, my eyes are engrossed in a mass of muscles hiding poorly behind a tighter-than-average synth black shirt. His biceps fill the sleeves like a glove.
I’m not the type to stop short for a hot bod. Usually. But when he flexes his arm in the air while trying to get the bartender’s attention, I have to fight the urge to reach out and wrap them in my tiny hands. I wonder if my fingers could hold all of him.
“Mira? Are you still here?” The bartender looks puzzled, and I can’t blame him, but there’s no way I’m offering dazzled-by-biceps as my excuse.
“Odexian gin with monk fruit, if you please.” Words spurt from me uncomfortably, but as he turns to order the drink, I can't but help myself to another long gaze at him from behind.
There has to be something wrong with me. I’m not one to ogle, but the way he leans forward on the bar, with the gripping muscles on his back flexing to hold him there has me momentarily transfixed.
Handing my drink to me a second later, he smirks. “Glad to see I was able to change your mind.”
Ugh. There it is. The ultimate turn-off. Just when I thought this guy might be the hottest climber we’ve had in here. They always find a way to ruin that otherwise perfect form of a man. I guess he only really exists in my mind, anyway, but a girl can dream.
“I changed my own mind, thank you.” Okay, so I’m closed off. Aloof. Whatever. It’s better than being some braggart’s ego supply.
“Well, it got you here either way. So, you excited for competition day?”
Fighting the urge to walk out, here and now, Silvy’s words ring in my ears. Time to make a connection.
“I’ve never actually seen it before. This is my first year working the Icefalls.”
He swirls his drink in his hands, eyeing me with a tight smile on his lips. “So, you’ve never seen greatness? That’s a shame. I’m all set to sweep the competition this year.”
He’s glib and smug and should sting like a thorn in my side, but something tells me this Kiphian enjoys teasing me like this. I wonder if he can get as good as he gives.
“Hmm, that’s odd. Could’ve sworn that a climber from the Lakes Kingdom was the preferred favorite this year. I can’t remember the name, H-something.”
“Hanazon? Yeah, right.” He stiffens momentarily, confirming everything I thought before. Finishing my drink, I start to rise from the bar.
“Leaving so soon?”
“Yeah, off to get some rest. You should too, Mr. Competitor. Big day coming up, you know.”
He doesn't say anything, and it's probably just as well. This Renxel Garome is just like all the others. A big head somehow supported by an inflated ego. How do they manage, these Kiphian contestants?
