Ihave tostop noticing these things.
"How'd you do that? I've been trying to get her attention for like ten minutes."
Seven, actually. I kept track.
"What can I say? This face card never declines."
Hayden's eyes narrow again just as the bartender slides us our glasses and grabs the fifty I slide toward her in return.
"Interesting."
I keep my eyes locked with his as I bring my glass to my lips and ask, "What is?" before taking a sip.
"You're kinda cocky, aren't you?" He drawls in a tone that makes my stomach dothe thing, but before I can defuse my own internal state with a joke, the guy, oh-so-casually and very bluntly drags his gaze down my torso andto my fucking crotchwhere he—god—lingers for a moment before looking back up. "I don't hate it."
Fuck.Fuck. This is getting out of hand. I've bitten more than I can chew. Quick, change the subject. Say something.Anythingthat doesn't involve cocks.
And then I say the one thing, the only thing worse than straight up saying 'You wanna see it?'
"So, who is it that you're trying to get out your system?"
I facepalm. I fucking physically slap my palm over my goddamn mouth.
God, if you exist, please send an earthquake.Now.
Hayden turns his head about ninety degrees and looks at me sideways, those heavy brows twisting into S shapes like he's Google's default picture for the word 'confusion'. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing." I mumble into my hand still covering my mouth.
"Christopher?" The only,onlything keeping my legs in place and stopping me from bolting is that he looks more amused than he does angry. "Or should I say, Nicholas?"
Second palm joins the first and I bury my face in them, putting both elbows on the bar top. "Pleasepretend you didn't hear it." With the way my voice is muffled, I'm not sure he can hearthat.
"I might.Afteryou explain."
Where's my damn earthquake? Fuck. And I've been doing so well.
I take a deep, unsatisfying breath and reluctantly let go of my face, before straightening up and turning to face him fully. I'm sure I’m redder than a brick, but...does that even matter at this point?
One more breath, and I force myself to meet his eyes. "I was just..." I sigh. There's no dignified way to finish the sentence. "I was trying to find you."
Hayden stands up straight as well and crosses his arms over his chest, giving me a new angle of his tattooed forearms, and suddenly I hate how tall he is. "Why?"
I shrug. "I dunno," I mumble. Holding his gaze right now is a fucking workout.
"That's not good enough."
"But it's the truth, okay?" My arms shoot up by my sides and I accidentally hit someone in the hip. I mumble an apology and lower my voice. Suddenly I have much more compassion for the guy that bumped into me earlier. Maybe he was running from himself too. "I don't know. All I know is, I wanted to see you again. You made me feel...things. I guess I just wanted to feel them again."
Hayden hums and takes his sweet time to study my face. I can feel a bead of sweat forming at my temple, but I don't move to wipe it off. I don't move at all, don't hide my face and don't look away. I need to face him head on. If nothing else, for my own sanity.
"What thi—" he finally says, but stops himself mid-word and shakes his head. "You know what, it doesn't matter. I don't want to know. We're good."
And then, he relaxes his stance and leans over the bar again, bringing his glass to his lips and downing half of it in a single swig.
I scrunch my forehead. "What do you mean?"
What is this? Some type of reverse psychology?
