Page 19 of King of Clubs

“However you make it will be fine. I’m fussy so you probably won’t have my regular order.” I grimaced at his back, softly slapping myself on the forehead as I inwardly cringed at my response. I was definitely out of practice with even the most basic of conversation.

“Tell me how you take your coffee.” There was an authoritative tone to his statement yet those piercing eyes, kind in the most interesting way, ensured I didn’t misconstrue his intentions.

“Caramel latte. What’s yours?” His shoulders shook a little and it was obvious my answer entertained him.

“That’s barely coffee, but I think I can manage it. I drink a double shot piccolo,” he turned to look at me briefly as he moved to open the cupboard above the coffee machine. Interestingly, there was no colour in this room either and just like everywhere else, everything was intentionally placed in its own perfect spot. Other than the accents on each cupboard, the room was sparse, keeping in line with the rest of the apartment.

I was an organised person. I used a daily planner with various coloured post-it-notes to ensure each day was catalogued and everything was completed but this categorisation was next level. Some people – Arna – would describe it as anal retentive, but to me it made the man currently grinding the coffee beans, infinitely sexy.

With arms like that, back muscles worthy of their own billboard and an eye for detail – the dating profile was writing itself and I was swiping right, one thousand times over.

“Can’t say I’m surprised your coffee order is no nonsense.” Again, I scrunched my face towards his back, berating myself at how inept I was at flirting. As much as I hoped he found aggressive women with no filter attractive, I pondered why I was so snappy this morning. Second guessing myself to this degree was new and something I found irritating, although I didn’t know how to act in this situation.

“What do you mean?” he asked, amusement in his voice as he grabbed a bottle of syrup from the pantry and moved to the fridge. Opening the double glass doors he reached inside for the milk. This guy was a mystery and as I watched him making me a beverage, still a foreign concept, I realised it was one I wanted to solve. Like, why did he stock caramel if his coffee was so simplistic? Why was he choosing to indulge my request for an order many people scoffed at and why did he look so fucking delectable at 9:00am.

“Everything about you seems clean and calculated,” I answered cautiously, “meticulous, I suppose.” Not wanting to make myself appear any more foolish than I already did, I stared at my nails before changing the trajectory of the conversation. “Anyway, thanks for bringing me here. Last night was interesting. I don’t usually drink that much and it’s been a while since I’ve been out at all let alone drunk. You helped me when I really needed someone. So, thank you.” I couldn’t look at him, instead pulling at a tiny piece of cotton on the hem of my dress. I wasn’t used to being so vulnerable but I could see Suzie smiling at that little display of self-empowered honesty.

A whiff of coffee pulled me from my mental drift and I closed my eyes, listening only to the sounds of the machine as I waited for his reply. I could feel his gaze boring into the top of my head and when the silence became unbearable I glanced up self-consciously and straight into his eyes.

“You are terrifying. You know that, right?” I blurted.

God, pre-caffeinated Marlee was on a roll this morning.

His lips tugged at the side and if I thought serious Sebastian was a good-looking man, he had nothing on the smirking version. His eyes softened and for a second he lost that edge he kept around himself.

I wonder what your story is…

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, “Also, you don’t need to thank me.” He didn’t rush me for details even though he probably realised there was more to know. His introspection extended to those around him and it was a rare quality which I found considerably kind.

He moved his eyes to my arms where I knew the bruises lay and I instinctively covered them with my hands, crossing my arms over my chest in the process. Sympathy was the last thing I wanted from him. My past was my own and it was baggage he was in no position to carry nor should he feel burdened to, given we were very nearly strangers.

He placed the clear mug on the bench in front of me, laying a small spoon next to it and I took a moment to admire his hands as he did so. The slight red of his knuckles drew my attention, and I was hit with the memory of Sebastian using said fist in my defence.

“Your hand. You hit him.”For me. He hit Lucasfor me.Instead of feeling uncomfortable, I noted my initial response was pure confusion followed by concern.

I lightly grazed my fingers over his angry knuckles and the same spark I felt when I awkwardly touched his stomach again zapped through my arm and across my chest. “Are you oka–”

Not waiting for me to finish, he yanked his hand away and the sting of rejection replaced my worry.

“Sorry,” I mumbled more out of habit than anything else.

“I’m fine. He deserved it.” There was a subtle change in his demeanour. His shoulders were still, his face no longer holding any hint of playfulness. I was trying to hear what he was saying but cognisant of what I assumed was anger, I snapped my spine straight and nodded. Agreeing was the most important thing to ensure I didn’t upset him any further as I so often seemed to do in the past.

Always agree.

It would be the least intrusive on his moods even if it was the opposite of what I wanted to do. Wanted to say. Keep my actions and behaviour as predictable as a clock’s pendulum.

His voice was softer when he spoke next. “You can also stay here again tonight and Andy and Arna can come get you tomorrow once they’re both back in Sydney.”

“Wait,” I said hastily, my fears suddenly clouding my vigilance to agree. “I can’t stay here again. I need to get home. I don’t have any clean clothes…” I fumbled, trying to think of all the reasons the idea wouldn’t work, “and I have an appointment later today,” I added, hoping Suzie could fit me in for the emergency appointment I was yet to book. He sipped his drink slowly, giving me space to unpack my rattling mind. He was as confusing as I was with his thoughtful musing one minute and confident dominance the next.

Reminded of my own drink, I relished in the warmth of the glass and the hint of caramel encased in the steam. Though my vacillating examination prevented me from enjoying it as much as I usually would.

“Where is your appointment? I will take you.” He was calm, allowing no room for argument, yet his words hosted no hint of aggression or threat. It was an assertiveness I wasn’t able to interpret. Was he being unselfish by helping and overcoming potential barriers or was this a ruse?

“It will be a video call, if I can secure an appointment, but I don’t have my laptop and it’s…” I was suddenly nervous. I hated the look of piteous understanding I received when I admitted this and that was the very last thing my hungover brain wanted from Sebastian.

“It’s with my therapist,” I answered, waiting for the predictable retort.

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