Page 39 of Dangerous Pursuit
"Clearly you were standing too far." I try to go for a flirty tone, but he's not having it, taking a sharp step back, even though I haven't moved.
"Oh fuck off," he hisses through his teeth, every word dripping with venom. "Of courseyou can't keep it in your pants for two whole minutes. But guess what?"
"Xander," I warn, but he keeps going.
"Two can play at that game. It's not like you're the only overeager dick in town."
He lifts his chin and huffs through his nose for good measure, and before I can talk some sense into that stubborn, blond head, he sidesteps me with an exaggerated arc and paces toward the shadowy alley, where the dark-haired enigma fails at blending with the shadows, his cover blown.
"Hey!" Xander's voice slices through the tension, halting the stranger's attempted escape. "You! Come with me."
I let out a heavy sigh, plop down on my stool, and watch as two silhouettes disappear around the corner.
Straight guy drama. Yet another reason I should have never gotten involved in the first place.
My eyes linger at the now-empty corner for a bit too long before I shake my head and force them away, before darting back again. And again, and again for the rest of my shift.
Chapter Fourteen
Xander
ASS-HOLE, ASS-HOLE, ASS-HOLE, my brain chants in rhythm with my hasty steps as I move away from the asshole drilling a hole in the back of my head. God, I hate him. I hate everything about him right now, and most of all, I hate how fucking predictable he is.
Of coursehe couldn't last one week without getting his di—
"Hi."
My step falters as my eyes snap to… right. Theotherasshole.
Taking a sharp inhale I'm just about to unleash all my inner ugliness at the perfectly clueless, perfectly unremarkable guy who's currently sizing me up, making faces I assume he considers cute, making me feel all kinds of dirty. I stop myself at the last second and physically bite my lip to keep the words inside. It's nothisfault. No. The asshole we've just left around the corner is to blame. Exclusively.
"My bad," I mutter as I sidestep him, keeping my distance. "I thought you were someone else."
He gives me a disappointed "Oh," but doesn't object. I simultaneously deflate and pick up my pace, my body and mindworking in tandem to get out of here immediately, preferably about fifteen minutes ago, before I ever got here in the first place.
Once I decide I've gained enough distance, albeit only physically, I look over my shoulder, relieved to find the strange man's silhouette in the distance, unmoving.
He can go right back to Liam for all I care. I never wanted anything to do with him. The immature part of me just wanted for Liam to think that. Am I proud? No, not really. But you know what? I'll take all the stupid parts of me over casually fucking around on someone any day.
I take a random left into the darkness, hoping if I take enough of them, I'll eventually circle back to my car somehow. And with Liam, and Skin on Skin and my sudden, irrational dick-obsession in the middle? You bet your ass it's gonna be a World Card level of circle.
Chapter Fifteen
Xander
MY JAW CRACKS audibly as I take yet another foot to the face, collapse onto the mat, roll around and swiftly pick myself up, trying to force my attention on my opponent.
Seconds later, I'm on the mat again and I pat his shoulder, struggling to catch my breath.
"Wow. Looks like someone's had a busy night." Cody, my training buddy, flashes me a tired, yet satisfied grin as he reaches out and helps me up.
Once I'm on my feet I half-shrug and give him a non-word in response, because I don't think I'm smart enough to articulate just how busy my last I-don't-know-how-many nights have been, as I've been trying to think of something, anything other than a particular blond who somehow decided to turn my mind into his permanent residence and refuses to pay rent.
It's not until Cody gets into position that I force myself to speak human. "I think you've whooped my ass enough for one day," I say, pathetically out of breath. "Same time tomorrow?”
Cody gives me a nod, already waving at some youngster sitting on a bench, embracing the volcano of energy that he is despite being in his fifties.
Meanwhile, I haul my tired, thirty-year-old ass back to the locker room, my own inner Vesuvius fast asleep.
