Page 35 of Omega Artist
His voice sounds closer, so I stare alternatively between the counter and the hot guys in front of me instead of Mr. de Luca.
Mike’s boyfriend’s brows furrow before mimicking one of my favorite expressions. “Are you serious right now?”
“Never been more serious. I need it. Badly.” Mike shrugs at his man. “Let me check out the improvements first.” The bartenders shoot him a knowing look.
And that’s when his arm brushes mine. By mistake, for sure. A surge of heat rushes through my body, sending tingles to all the right places. And more. Places where I’m usually the only one capable of igniting such sensations so quickly. This doesn’t make sense. At all.
Because the touch is coupled with his caressing voice addressing me. “I’m sorry, miss.”
His voice. Our proximity. My reaction. Despite my clothes acting as a barrier between us, Tig’s touch overrules everything. My ridiculous flirting. The great music. People’s loud voices. Inappropriate heat. Unexplainable want. Irrepressible urges.
Sipping my drink, I mumble something incoherent in return and force myself to keep my eyes on my glass, but I needn’t bother. He’s already left my personal space. I wriggle in my seat with widening eyes as I’m now free to follow his every move again. He roams further into the packed place, stopping to make a selection at the juke-box.
The electro music ceases at once, and an old tune plays through the speakers.Waiting for the Miracleby Leonard Cohen.
Ohhh, he has good taste in music. Is it me, or does Tig’s velvety voice sound like the singer’s?
My heart pounds in my chest, and my hand flies over my mouth to suppress the sudden need to throw up. I didn’t understand my initial reaction to him, and I surely don’t understand this one either. To keep from racing to the bathroom to empty my stomach, I inhale deeply and focus on the counter’s wooden grain.
“What’s gotten into him?” The evident worry in Mike’s question is unmistakable. My eyes land on the cute bartender. He shrugs at his boyfriend’s question as I welcome the slight burn of the liquid going down my throat; I drank the first shot too fast to notice.
Thoughtful, I can’t get around the fact that I’ve finally seen Tig—Mr. Manwhore himself—in the flesh.
“No clue. It can’t be good, though. Listen, I’ll fix his drink, but please check on him first. Make sure he means it; if not, give it to Leroy, who just got here. I wouldn’t want our friend doing something he’ll regret afterwards. Either way, it’s on the house, okay, T.?”
“Got it.”
With Troy gone, I peek up at Mike, unable to stop myself. “What’s his deal? One vodka is harmless, right?” I grab the shot, as if trying to convince him.
“Not sure. He’s anti-alcohol and always orders seltzer.”
I’m speechless and nod, then watch Tig create some more distance between us. All these months, what we’ve covered has been shits and giggles. Apparently, we both danced around certain aspects of our lives. His alcohol. My cancer. Our weaknesses. I’m not sure whether social media is responsible for the tendency to show the best sides of ourselves. I guess it’s just human nature and it must be why we clicked so easily.
Painfully, I swallow the lump that’s started to form in my throat from prying about a man that I once thought I knew rather well. But do I? This simple question renews my ulterior motive. I’m here to uncover everything there is to know about him and use it to my advantage, so I’d better start moving.
“Do you mind if I bring him his drink? I mean, unless you think it’s a bad idea.”
Mike’s brow spikes up. “Ohhh… You found someone more interesting than your blind date.” He winks, a playful grin on his flawless face.
“If you must know… Tigismy blind date!” I wink back at him.
“No shit! I didn’t see that one coming.” He pushes the small tumbler across the counter. “Take the drink. Just make sure he’s positive about drinking it, okay?”
“Got it!”
“May the force be with you, young Padawan,” Troy adds. His comment makes me smile and reminds me that Mike carded me earlier. He’s lucky that he’s so hot or else I would have thrown a fit!
In haste, I slap money on the counter, slide my phone into my jeans pocket, and head towards the back to follow Tig. Afraid of getting caught, I use the opposite aisle, sliding around a group of totally plastered guys. Walking slowly, I do my best to keep one eye on the shot to make sure that I don’t spill it. A second ago, he was here, and now, he’s nowhere to be seen.
Dammit, I should have gone the other way
I’ve reached the back wall, and he seems to have vanished into thin air. I feel like Alice in Wonderland. I’m debating whether to head back to ask Channing where he was sitting earlier—although I’m far from eager to meet his friends.
You didn’t find me, Mr. I’d-Recognize-You-Anywhere.
Biting the corner of my lower lip in frustration, I grab my phone from my pocket, about to text him about a potential meetup spot.
It’s useless because he appears, lost in his thoughts, from behind a door marked Staff Only, giving me the opportunity to check him out more closely. His eyes are downcast as he locks the door behind him, then turns in the direction of the bar. Startled by my presence, he stops in his tracks. The next few seconds feel like hours.
