1. Scarlet #2
My eyes sting, but I refuse to cry over another man in less than twenty-four hours. Especially one I don’t even know. Good looks does not a nice guy make, apparently. Even though he was practically prince charming last night.
“I guess I’ll call a rideshare and get out of y’all’s hair.”
Ellis gives me one last, lingering look before pivoting on his heel and heading down the hall, not even bothering with a goodbye. Talk about a personality transplant. I know some people only smoke when they drink, but maybe he’s only nice when he does—who knows?
“Don’t be silly, Scarlet. I’ll give you a ride back to your car. C’mon.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, wondering when my taste in men will finally turn in my favor, because, god knows, I only seem to want the worst kind of guys.
For the briefest of moments, I thought maybe he’s into me, but he put that notion to rest quickly and all but pawned me off to Atlas.
And so, we bantered. Until Nora was taken, and then his banter became barbs meant to do more than sting.
“Scarlet…” He somehow makes my name sound both sinful and scolding, and I hate him for it. “You should probably focus a little less on my dick when it’s something you’re never, ever going to have.”
How it’s possible for someone so handsome to be so infuriating, I’ll never know. I swear, I can practically feel the steam pouring from my ears, cartoon style. “You know what?” I coo, my voice all soft and sweet, like I use with my best friend Nora’s baby. “You can fuck all the way off. Twice.”
“I wouldn’t fuck you if we’re the last woman on earth, Princess.”
The beast next to me laughs under his breath, I’m damn near ready to blow. These two are a double dose of bad news, and I know if I give them a second more of my time, they will undoubtedly ruin my night.
I suck in a deep breath and flag down Clint, who rushes over immediately.
“Finally,” Ellis mutters, but the bartender—blessedly—only has eyes for me.
“Another creek water?” he asks, giving me every drop of his focus.
I run my tongue over my lower lip and nod. “Yes, please.”
“You got it.” He sets to work making my drink and slides it across the bar. “This one’s on the house, too.”
Ellis scoffs, and Clint’s eyes snap his way. “You got a problem?”
“Oh, I exist now?” The man beside me is surely displaying his annoyance. “I’ll take—”
“Sorry, don’t serve assholes here.”
“The fuck?” Ellis slams his hands down onto the bar top and pushes himself forward ever so slightly. “Are you kidding me?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Clint deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest.
He’s not my usual type—I tend to like my men a little more built, but if he keeps it up, I might be willing to make an exception. God knows, it’s doing something for me to be put first like this. Especially over Ellis.
“What is happening right now?” Ellis whispers, disbelief heavy in each word.
“Chelsea will take your order… if she gets around to it.”
The beast next to me holds up two fingers. Unfortunately, Clint nods and grabs him two fresh bottles of beer. To make matters worse, when Clint walks off to help other customers, he slides one past me to Ellis.
“Thanks, man,” my annoying shadow says, glaring at the side of my face like I’m the singular cause of all his problems. “Name’s Ellis.”
“No problem,” comes Beast’s rumbling reply. “I’m Silas.”
I roll my eyes and toss back my drink. “Well, as much fun as watching y’all’s budding bromance is, I’m out.”
“This isn’t an airport, Scarlet. No need to announce your departure.”
Every part of me wants to stay and argue.
Letting him get the last word feels like defeat, but I know if I stick around, he’ll just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until I explode and make an ass out of myself.
So, even though it’s killing me, I hold my head high, slip off my barstool, toss my hair, and stalk off toward the lady’s room to check my makeup—and maybe my pride.
Some sort of deity must be smiling down on me, because there’s no line and my makeup’s perfect—not a smudge or crease in sight. And my pride... well, she’s a little worse for wear, but still hanging in there.
Unfortunately, a certain jackass’s presence has all but obliterated my desire for a night out, and now, the only thing calling my name is a steaming hot shower, my pjs, a good book, and my bed.
I touch up my lip gloss before heading back out into the bar, winking at my reflection in the mirror. I may be heading home, but I damn sure want to look my best as I go.
I keep my shoulders back and head high as I saunter toward the exit, making sure to add an extra sway to my hips when I feel someone’s eyes on me, but I refuse to look back toward the bar and give him the satisfaction.
The door swings open right as I approach, revealing Clint, with a massive bucket of ice clutched in one hand. Like the gentleman he is, he holds it open, allowing me to step through before he enters.
“You heading out?”
“Yeah.” I nod, nibbling my lower lip. “Thanks for my drinks.”
He lifts his hand and then drops it, as if he was going to reach out for me but thought better of it. “Any time. You be safe, okay?”
“I will,” I murmur, before continuing down the steps. Luckily, I scored a parking spot near the door. I am ready to put this whole ass night in my rear view.
“Is that a freaking ticket?” I mutter as my car comes into view. “I swear to god…” I snatch the sheet of paper from beneath my windshield wiper, but it’s not a ticket… Not even close.
Has anyone ever told you your smile lights up a room? Well, it does. And don’t even get me started on your voice… The way you say my name makes me lose my breath. I can’t help but wonder how much sweeter it would sound for you to moan it.
-Your Sweetheart
“What in the…” I clutch the paper to my chest as I whirl in a circle, trying to catch whoever left this for me.
But there’s no one. The parking lot is quiet and still—too still for a Friday night.
My skin turns to gooseflesh, despite the unseasonably warm air, and I rush to get in my car, locking the door after me.
“It’s fine,” I say out loud. “Everything’s fine. It’s…just a note. A harmless note, and who knows, it probably wasn’t even meant for me.”
Yeah, that’s it, I think, as I start the car and put it in reverse. “It’s not like whoever wrote it mentioned me by name.”
And if I was the intended recipient, well… it’s kind of sweet. Weird, too. But sweet, in a secret-admirer kind of way.