Page 2 of Just My Type
The tightness around her eyes.
Everything about her saysback off, and this asshole doesn’t seem to be getting the message as he leans in just a little closer.
“No, Hannah. Not another hour. Not five more minutes. We’re leaving right now. Maybe we can salvage some of this day before you go back to hiding in your little writing cave and forget I even exist, like you always do. Because why spend time with your real boyfriend when you can write about fake ones, right?”
Boyfriend, Jesus fucking Christ. This guy needs a lesson or five in how to treat a woman.
“I’m on a deadline, Brett; you know that.”
He scoffs. “Deadline. Whatever. You managed to find the time to come here, so whatever deadline you have clearly isn’t that important. Now cut the shit and let’s go.”
At Brett’scut the shit, Hannah’s entire demeanor changes. She straightens, her shoulders squaring and her eyes narrowing.
“No.”
Brett stares her down. “What do you meanno?”
Hannah puts a hand on her hip. “I mean, I’m not leaving. Not now. Not until I fucking feel like it. My sister and her friends are having the worst day of their lives, and I’m going tobe here with them as long as they need me. If you want to leave, leave. I’m staying.”
Fuck yeah, that’s my girl.
I mean, no. Not my girl. A girl. This girl. This very pretty girl with a steel fucking spine. Girls with steely spines are straight sexy. I’m allowed to think that even if this day is filled with grief, Hannah seems to have a boyfriend—even if he is a fucking asshole—and I still have to pee.
“The fuck you are,” Brett sneers. “Let’s go.”
He grabs Hannah’s wrist and tugs, trying to yank her with him, and she gasps.
“Ow, Brett, what the fuck? That hurts.”
I’m in motion in less than a millisecond. Asshole guy is one thing. Asshole guy who puts his hands on a woman is something entirely different. “Take your fucking hands off her.”
Hannah and Brett both spin around. Hannah’s face shutters, an embarrassed flush crawling up her cheeks, but Brett rises to his full height, staring me down, his hand still wrapped around Hannah’s wrist. “Who the fuck are you?”
I cross my arms over my chest and widen my stance, that protective instinct roaring back. “I’m the guy telling you to drop her wrist and take a step back. She obviously doesn’t want to go anywhere with you, and honestly, with the way you’re acting like a first-class fucking asshole, who could blame her?”
“Noah, seriously, it’s fine. We’re fine,” Hannah stammers, her eyes bouncing around the small space, looking anywhere but at me.
“Yeah, Noah,” Brett says sarcastically. “We’re fine. We were just leaving, right, Hannah?”
Hannah cringes like she has no interest in leaving with this guy, and I’ll be fucking damned if I let her walk out that door alone with him.
“Right, Hannah?” Brett repeats sharply.
I look at Hannah, silently begging her to look back at me,but she doesn’t. “Hannah,” I say softly, ignoring Brett completely. “Stay or go?”
She pauses, still not looking at me, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. And then.
“Stay.”
She whispers the word, but I hear it, and obviously Brett does too, because with a disgusted sigh, he releases her arm, dropping it with just enough force to knock Hannah back a step.
“Fuck, fine,” he says, his voice laced with irritation. “Stay if you want, but I’m out of here. Don’t call me later. I’ll be busy.” He turns and, without a backwards glance, stalks towards the front of the bar and straight out the door.
Hannah’s sharp intake of breath has all my attention whipping back to her. With a shuddery exhale, she slides down the wall until she’s sitting on the floor, knees to her chest, and her arms wrapped around her legs. Without a second thought, I crouch in front of her, placing a slow and tentative hand on hers. When she doesn’t move away from my touch, I slide a finger under her chin, tipping it up so her eyes finally meet mine.
The air leaves my lungs, and my heart knocks in my chest at the sight of Hannah’s deep green eyes, full of anger and devastation. My world tips on its axis as I take in her pretty pink lips, the light spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks, the way a few pieces of hair escape her ponytail to frame her face.
She’s so beautiful.
