Page 29 of Love is Strange
“I’ll pass,” I say evenly.
She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at me in confusion. She’s probably wondering how I can resist the charms of someone who seems to have a bit of a staring problem, but truth be told, I find it a bit creepy. I feel like a meal he’s sizing up and I don’t think I want any part of what he has to offer.
“Would it change your mind if I told you that I haven’t fucked him?” she asks curiously.
My face flushes red and she grins at me. I guess I’m a lot easier to figure out than I’ve always assumed, but she isn’t laughing atme.She’s laughing at my obvious fumbling teenage girl personality.
“Listen, when I said he’s fun, I didn’t mean it that way. I’ve got a guy at home, so I know my limits. He’s just really fun when it comes to hanging around and having a conversation with is all,” she explains with a shrug. “And, I promise you, if you guys talk, you’ll forget everything in the world that’s bringing you down. It’s kind of his specialty.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” I reply quietly.
“Tonight seems like a better time. I’ll be back,” she says, making her way down the counter to the other end of the bar where she lifts a small door and heads off into the crowd.
I want to run away.
I want to put the bottle down and get the fuck out of dodge because nothing good can come from a conversation with someone whose “specialty” is to make people forget things. I pick up the bottle again and gulp the rest of the beer down, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and pick up my purse, ready to make my escape when I see her talking to him. He’s leaned down, listening to every word she has to say, and when she raises a hand and gestures toward me, he grins, sets down his pool cue, and nods.
“Goddammit,” I mumble to myself as I begin my attempt to push my way toward the door. I’m not interested in talking to anyone else tonight and I don’t know if she’s pushing this out of spite or to snap me out of my misery, but either way, the choice is soon taken away from me.
“Hey.”
A firm hand grips my shoulder and stops me in my tracks. I bite my lip nervously as I turn around slowly and find myself face to face with the man I saw across the dark, crowded bar. He’s half hidden behind a beam, leaning around it and watching my reaction carefully.
Then suddenly, as his light blue eyes smile into mine, the world doesn’t seem so bad after all.
Chapter Two
“I heard you wanted some company,”he says with a friendly grin.
I smile weakly and when he laughs, I deduce that it was more likely a grimace than anything else.
“Sorry,” I mumble in embarrassment.
“No, it’s okay. That seems like the appropriate reaction to have when someone’s been watching you all night, then decides to pounce.” The grin on his face widens into something a little more salacious and I find myself swallowing the lump I didn’t even know I had built up in my throat.
“So, was I misinformed?” he asks, running a heavily tattooed hand back through his wild, cedar-brown hair. He looks like a misfit—a bad news indie rocker of sorts that’s slept with one too many groupies and got kicked out of the band for fucking the lead singer’s girlfriend.
And yet, I don’t find myself moving to get away from him anymore. If anything, I find myself becoming a little drawn to his candor and lofty attitude.
“Kind of,” I squeak out. I clear my throat and roll my eyes, wondering when the teenage fumbling girl that’s living inside of me took a stumble back into puberty.
“Alright. Um, do you mind if I hang out for a bit then until you figure it out?” he asks, slightly tilting his head to the side. The salacious grin is replaced again by a friendlier smile and my nerves are starting to fray.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I say, pushing my hair back behind my ears. He nods and leans a little further down toward me. I think it’s because a sudden eruption of laughter blew up from the bar area in an attempt to deafen everyone in the place. I shrink down a little, still not taking a step away from him, but just enough that he knows I’m not comfortable with him being so close. He rolls his eyes playfully and straightens himself up just a little before he attempts to make a conversation out of the awkward tension that sits between us.
“What’s your name, anyway?” he asks, leaning on the sturdy beam between us.
“Axelle-Rose.”
He arches an eyebrow, an amused smile crossing his lips, and I can see that he’s trying his best not to laugh. It’s a reaction I’m used to at this point in my life—at least from people that have damn good taste in music.
“Really?”
“My parents were big into eighties metal,” I reply with a shrug. The corners of his lips keep twitching, so I decide to have fun with it. “I have a brother too.”
“What’s his name?” he asks, shifting from one foot to the other. “Wait. Can I guess?”
I shake my head ruefully and smile, “To be quite honest with you, I think I would feel offended if you didn’t at least try.”
