Page 19 of Feathers From the Sky

“Let me take you out sometime. I like big girls,” he adds as he looks at me conspiratorially.

I don’t hide the gagging sound I make as I take my phone back. “No thanks,” I say, grabbing my purse and jacket from the back of the stool before moving over a seat. Bar Guy slides over to follow me. I roll my eyes, flagging down the bartender once more.

“Why not? You think you’re too good for me?” Bar Guy sneers.

I look down at my phone, ready to leave the car in the parking lot and pull up the rideshare app. I see Roman’s text though, and I can’t help but smile as I respond.

Is that hanks?

HOW DISD YOU KNOE THAT

I can see that he’s typing a response, but I don’t see the reply because Bar Guy smacks my phone out of my hand.

“Fucking bitch,” he spits at me and sticks out a leg to trip me when I stand. I’m wearing tall boots and I’m already clumsy when I’m sober, so I fall on my ass.

Why is it the worst fucking offense in the world to be rejected by a fat woman?

“Should I be thankful for scraps?” I ask from the floor. I scramble to my feet, and I’m about to slap the fucker as he crowds into my personal space. But then I see a hand grab the back of his neck, and then he is gone.

Stupidly, I blink for several seconds before Roman takes his place in front of me.

“The fuck was that about?” he asks, hands gripping my arms as he bends down to meet my eye.

His thick hair is pulled back into a tiny man bun on the back of his head, and somehow it is both adorable and impossibly sexy.

“How’d you get here so fast?” I wobble on my feet.

“I live a street over,” he answers, almost sheepishly. “I recognized it from your picture.”

“I’m sorry.” Roman tilts his head in confusion. “I am very drunk, and this is embarrassing,” I explain.

“It’s alright. You’re still cute as fuck.” He smirks at me beneath those thick, perfect brows. I reach up and touch one, tracing my fingertip over it. I almost regret touching him when he tilts my chin up. His fingers that brought me to the edge and left me wanting are caressing my skin. His touch is so soft, it’s almost too gentle. My cheeks, already red from the drinking, heat even further. I don’t know what to do with the attention. I’m supposed to be careful, but he is making restraint difficult.

“You have very nice eyebrows,” I say, and he chuckles.

“What’s the celebration?”

“My unemployment.” I grab my empty glass of water and hold it out for him to cheers me.

“Oh shit,” he replies. “Yeah, I’d say that’s worth getting drunk over. Fuck, I’m sorry Gwyn.”

“You should be! It’s kinda your fault,” I assert, and I accidentally drop my glass. It breaks, thankfully not into a million tiny pieces, and Roman quickly picks up the broken cup.

“Let’s get you home. You can tell me all about it.”

He gently grabs me by the elbow, leading me toward the door. I’m turning around to grab my purse and pay my bill, but he’s already carrying my purse while he puts my jacket around my shoulders.

“My tab!” I shout at him, but he’s waving at the bartender, who nods, and I think that means he paid it for me. “I suppose that’s the least you can do after costing me my job.”

He doesn’t answer as he digs through my purse for my keys. The autumn air is chilly as we step outside, and I put my jacket on properly.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he says as he holds open the passenger door for me a moment later.

“You drive stick?” I ask, realizing I forgot to ask. He is so domineering and confident, I just assumed he did. I’m already in the car when he answers, and I shamelessly ogle his ass as he walks to the driver’s side and gets in.

God, he’s handsome.

“They don’t make men like you anymore,” I say, a hiccup bubbling up my throat.

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