I notice he doesn’t tense from our new proximity. I take advantage of studying him again. There’s another little scar on his jaw where the beard doesn’t grow. Did he cut himself while shaving? Did his great uncle twice removed hit him more than once? Maybe a bike accident. His eyes are indeed nearly black. But there is one streak in his left eye that is the color of bronze.
He studies me studying him and his eyes are searching my face.
“That’s your thing huh? Watching and studying people?” He asks, ignoring my question.
I grin. “I find it entertaining.”
His lips part to say something but they snap shut when he hears the little bell at the door. I look without moving and see one of our regular’s wife, stepping inside with her dripping semi folded umbrella. She waves at me, and her husband stands up to join her at the door, waving goodbye as well. I give them both a smile and turn my attention back towards Grumpy Late Guy.
I catch the moment his eyes drift from my mouth to my eyes and a slight blush creeps up his neck and cheeks. His tanned complexion hides it well.
“Next ferry leaves in five minutes,” I whisper.
“I’ll get the next one.”
Surprise pulls at my face. Was he not upset about missing his ferry when he came in? Maybe it was something else. Maybe he missed it on purpose. Maybe he was upset about going home but felt robbed with a $5 bottom shelf bourbon when he decided to miss his ride.
“I can practically see the wheels in your brain through your eyes,” he muses. “It’s fascinating.”
“I’m trying to figure you out. It’s mything.”
“Or you could just ask me.”
“Maybe I like the mystery of it. What if the truth is not as good as what I imagined? I like creating stories. Imagining a past or a future just from a single detail or facial expression.”
“What if you ask and I create a story? You won’t know if it’s the truth.”
His eyes drop to my mouth again for a fraction of a second before going back to my eyes. He’s not blushing anymore. Is Grumpy Guy turning into Flirty Guy?
“Tempting. But I would believe you, and I’d be heartbroken when I find out you lied.”
“So… You don’t want me to lie… But you don’t want to know the truth?” He asks with a confused look but a small smile.
“I’m weird like that.”
He chuckles through his nose and shakes his head slightly. His hair is now dry, jet black, and sticking out in weird directions. But it looks silky soft and I’m shoving away the intrusive thought of raising my hand to comb through it with my fingers.
“What time do you get off?” He finally asks.
“My shift ends at 5.”
He pauses. Hesitant. Last ferry to Seattle on weekdays is at 5:55p.m. He stares at the drawing once more and looks at it for a long minute before lifting his face back to mine.
“Would you like to grab a drink with me after? You could tell me what story you created in your head about me, and I can tell you the truth if you want to know.”
Asking me out. Grumpy Flirty Guy is asking me out. For a less than fifty-minute date.
I can practically hear my brother Jack screaming in my ear.Why the hell are you even thinking about it? Go! Get some! Tell me afterwards so I can live those fantasies through you and get my next spicy scene for the future book!
After a—too long—silence, he speaks again. “Or not. We could talk about anything else. You could just draw people and let me see how you can catch so many things with just a few pen strokes. We could walk in the rain and wake up with pneumonia tomorrow.”
“Imagining stories and possibilities is my thing,” I interrupt him.
“It’s fun, I like it.”
I roll my eyes but can’t hide the smile stretching my lips.
“You could show me around and find another bar so we can drink out of your workplace,” he continues. “Maybe you’ll even let me kiss you and we’d make out like teenagers in the back of an Uber.” I scoff and he smiles broadly,showing perfectly aligned teeth. “Or not. Maybe I’ll try to kiss you and you’ll slap me before running away screaming.”
