Page 97 of The Weight Of Falling
“I will.”
As I make my way to the restroom, a man slouched against the far wall of the bar catches my attention. He’s out of the light and in shadow, but he looks vaguely familiar. I can’t make him out properly, his cap is pulled too low.
“Hey, sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?” asks a short, stocky man with a shaved head, stepping into my space.
“No, thank you,” I say, keeping my voice polite but firm.
A tall, skinny guy with a sleeve of tattoos spits on the floor. “I told you not to ask her, numbskull. I told you I saw her first.”
“I don’t care if you saw her first,” the other man retorts. “I asked her for a drink first.”
“It’s okay, I’m having drinks with my friend,” I try telling them, but they’re not listening, too busy glaring at each other, their faces growing redder by the second.
Someone jostles me from behind. I smell alcohol and an unpleasant metallic smell. The jostling happens again, more forcefully this time. Maybe I should give up on the restroom and make my way back to Hannah. This bar is definitely getting too rowdy for me.
Suddenly, the tall, skinny guy swings back his fist and lands a punch on his friend. Angry shouts erupt around me and suddenly I’m being pushed in all directions. I don’t believe it. I’m caught in the middle of a bar fight.
Trying to steady my rising panic, I look up and my eyes lock with Joel’s.
He’s already pushing away from the bar and moving swiftly toward me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine as he vaults over a tipped chair and shoulders past a barrel-chested man who doesn’t move quickly enough. Someone tries to throw a punch at him, but he ducks, shoves the guy aside, and keeps fighting to get to me.
I lose sight of him when I’m shoved from behind and an elbow jabs my ribs. The air rushes out of my lungs and I tip forward. Suddenly, a strong arm goes around my waist, and I’m pulled upright against a hard chest.
Joel threads his fingers though mine and anchors me tightly against him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“What about my friend—Hannah?” I ask, my voice shaking and panicked.
“Ryan’s got her,” Joel reassures me. “He’ll take care of her. I need to get you out of here.”
Keeping me tucked securely against him, he muscles a path through the crowd. He steers me into a long hall, past the restrooms and Kelly’s office, then around a corner into a small alcove by the emergency exit.
His eyes scan my face, my body, assessing me for any injuries. “Are you okay?”
I nod and manage a shaky gulp of air. “I’m okay. I’m—”
The rest of my sentence is cut short as Joel pins me to the wall, frames my face with his hands, and crashes his mouth down on mine.
I don’t stop him. I can’t stop him. There’s not a molecule inside of me that is able to resist him right now. This is what I’ve wanted, what I’vecraved, for so long.
Heat explodes between us. He kisses me frantically, desperately, as though whatever he’s kept leashed has snapped free. He’s not gentle and I don’t want him to be. His intensity thrills me.
I thought the storeroom was the best kiss of my life, but this one is better because now I know him. I’ve laughed with him, sat through the world’s worst date with him, and watched him look out for me when I didn’t know I needed it. This kiss tastes like all the moments we’ve earned.
His head lifts and his hand comes up to cradle the back of my head. I feel his intense gaze like a current along my nerves.
“Say my name,” he demands, his voice low and rough.
“Joel,” I breathe.
“I told you, the next time I kiss you, the only name on your lips is mine.” His eyes are dark and bottomless. “Say it again.”
“Joel, Joel, Joel,” I murmur.
“No more pretending,” he says, his voice so gravel-deep it takes out my knees.
“No,” I whisper. “No more pretending.”
There’s no coming back from this. And I see in his face the same realization.
