Chapter One Jamie #2
I still haven’t learned. I drop my head again and offer a grin he may not be able to see. “No, you’re not. Would you like me to give you my seat so we can talk, or is that not something you’re used to either?”
“You tell me,” he says with a shrug. “You seem to be the expert on all of this.”
“All of this?” I echo, shaking my head. “If you’re talking about giving compliments and how to surrender a seat I was lucky enough to snag first, no, I’m really not. I’ve been told I’m too arrogant and selfish for that.”
“Told by whom?”
My parents, my ex, a few coaches and teammates, most rivals. The media often. Fans more than I would’ve liked. Never Kai or Harper, but they’ve always been the exception, not the rule.
“Enough people to have convinced me before I knew any better.”
He frowns, then chases it with beer. “I'm not sure the majority is supposed to rule on that sort of thing.”
The majority flits in and out of my life these days, so I don’t argue the point.
I also don’t know if there’s a reason to keep the conversation going after I’ve let that much slide.
Sure, this guy is attractive. He makes me smile.
He’s willing, maybe, to defend me against things that could’ve been my fault.
His eyes haunt and heal. And he’s nice enough to talk to me without needing a selfie to prove we were here together.
He’s nice enough that he could be an exception, too.
But something feels really good where my leg brushes his—or maybe it’s the other way around—and I already know there are too many ways I might end up hurt if I don’t move away from him soon.
I note the warning ache in my heart and my lungs and somewhere more damning than either of those.
It's a chronic thing that can’t have anything to do with him when he’ll disappear from my life tonight.
How could I ask for more when I don’t know whether he’s into men?
How could I ask for more when even the greediest gossip sites have never found proof that I am?
Then he leans into me a little more, and my breath hitches, embarrassing me in a way I can’t explain.
Kai catches my eye, and I want to reassure him I’m fine, but I’m only sitting here with a beer and a stranger.
There’s no reason for me to be anything else.
When a couple of guys near the front door get into it with another bartender, Kai throws a lime wedge at my head and turns to deal with the chaos.
I do my best to keep staring at the blank space he’s left behind.
“Are you guys friends? Or do you just come here often enough to get fruit thrown at you by the people who work here?”
“Both, actually.” I shift to put a couple of inches between us and ignore the flicker of loss I pretend he might’ve felt.
“For all the time we’ve spent apart over the years, Kai’s been the constant.
I don’t remember my life without him in it.
I was also hanging out here long before I could legally drink.
His dad owned the bar ‘til he died, and Kai and I grew up here because, most of the time, I liked it better than being at home.”
“Shitty parents?” he asks.
“Single-minded parents,” I amend. I can’t explain more than that without getting into a past I’ve been trying to dodge tonight. I pick up my bottle and make a vague gesture with it. “They’re fine. I’m fine. But when I was a kid, this was one of my favorite hiding places.”
“Are you still hiding now?”
For a second, I think he knows, and I can’t breathe again, but there’s no recognition—only curiosity that could keep me here forever. “I can’t imagine what good that would do.”
“I’m glad you—”
Whatever he’s glad about remains a mystery when we’re interrupted by the sound of shattered glass from the other end of the bar and half a dozen shouts to go with it.
I get rocked by a rush of adrenaline I hate in this context, mostly because I know how to fight, and I know I can’t do it here.
The feeling rolls into panic when I try to stay entirely still instead.
Even with a more immediate concern in front of him, Kai hisses at me and jerks his head toward the back door.
Everything becomes a blur then, or maybe things I don’t understand have made themselves clear.
Once my beer bottle has fallen from my hand, I’m free to grab the man next to me and tug him away from the brewing brawl.
He’s clumsier than I am when it comes to running from a fight, but the questions he’s asked for the past several minutes stop when he follows me without a word.
There’s relief in not having to explain myself as we go.
The bar isn’t all that big, so I lead us past the bathrooms and around a couple of corners.
I shove my hip into the crash bar on the back door, but I’ve forgotten how easily it opens.
We tumble into the alley behind the building, my grip on his forearm just enough to steady us both.
The cool air is jarring after being somewhere that had become warm without my knowledge. I pause to adjust to the dark when I let him go. My pulse is so loud in my ears, but maybe silent to the man staring at me now.
“That was—”
For the second time in as many minutes, a thought goes unfinished, and we both startle when the back door flies open again.
Still thrumming and too aware of the fight happening inside, I move instinctively, quick to help us dodge trouble one more time.
The force of my body colliding with his leads to a rough landing against the stucco wall.
Then I turn my head in time to see three drunk women trip and fall from inside the bar.
They probably followed us when we fled, and now that they’re outside, they seem wholly uninterested in us.
Ignoring the shaky breath at my cheek, I watch until they’re coordinated enough to walk away, clinging to each other while one of them calls for a ride home.
It takes another heartbeat or two for me to realize I’ve got a handsome stranger pinned to a wall. My mouth is far too close to his as soon as I’m facing him again. I’m enamored, and probably needy, but neither is a problem that belongs to him.
“Shit, I—sorry—”
I start to step back, but I get lost in wide eyes that seem far from bothered by whatever liberties I’ve taken.
I feel his fingers curl into my t-shirt and hold me there.
His chest rises and falls more obviously than when we’d talked with beers in our hands, and this newfound proximity confirms he’s exactly as strong as I’d guessed at a glance.
Then he smiles, and if I’d planned to finish my sentence, the apology is long gone now.
“Are you on probation or something?” he whispers.
Or maybe it’s not a whisper, but the entire world feels hushed, and I shiver. “Probation?”
“I—no, I don’t mean—” He stops and looks too closely, but he hasn’t given up on me yet.
“I appreciate the swift escape you provided, but I also saw the look your friend gave you before we ran. And that was after you froze.” He stops again and shrugs.
“You look like you could hold your own in a bar fight if it came to that, so with him encouraging you to get out of there, and you being willing to go—I don’t know.
I guess I was curious whether you’ve been in trouble before. ”
“I’ve been in a lifetime of it, but not the way you’re thinking. Kai’s just had my back for a really long time.”
“Why’d you have mine?”
And isn’t that the fucking question of the night? I think I’d blow him off entirely, but he’s still holding on to my shirt and he doesn’t flinch when my hand finds his forearm again. I sigh and settle for a safe middle ground.
“We were in the middle of a conversation. I thought there might be more to say.”
He nods. “Maybe I could even get your name this time.”
It’s a line. Or it sounds a lot like one. My wishful thinking makes it easy to answer him. Twenty minutes ago, I’m not sure I could’ve been convinced to introduce myself to anyone.
“I’m Jamie.”
It’s a step forward, but I have to take a step back when he finally lets me go to shake my hand. Some of his hair has fallen free from its ponytail. A couple of unreadable expressions are there and gone when he grins again.
“Hi, Jamie. I’m Mateo.”
“Did you leave anything inside the bar, Mateo?”
“Other than a half-finished beer and the mango chipotle wings you love?”
“Other than that, yeah,” I say.
“Just the unpaid bill.”
“Kai isn’t coming after you for it,” I promise, brushing away his concern with the wave of my hand. “He might’ve closed the kitchen anyway, depending on how bad everything got.”
“Is there a reason we’re not going back inside to ask him?”
“Do you have somewhere else to be tonight?”
He laughs, but he’s nearly as breathless now as I was before. “Other than my empty apartment and its empty refrigerator?”
“Other than that, yeah,” I repeat.
“Well, I’m still hungry.”
I could’ve guessed that much was true, but the way he’s almost teasing me about it settles something in me.
I only wish it settled everything. I’m not ready to invite Mateo into my car—one crowded with a couple of sticks, old practice jerseys, and lord knows what else branded with Jameson Sinclair—when there’s a chance I can be a stranger named Jamie a little while longer.
I’m also sure there are pieces of Harper’s life scattered all over the leather seats.
As unfair as it might be, I don’t want that part of my life to complicate tonight either.
For all I know, Mateo is straight, and I have no plans to let the public know I’m not. If this is the only dinner I’ll ever share with him, I don’t want to talk about anyone else.
He watches me until I stop thinking so hard and make him an offer. “You fly, I buy?”
“Sure. Are we still getting burgers and wings?”
“How do tacos sound?”
Mateo’s stomach growls in the relative quiet of the alley, and we both laugh before he answers. “They sound pretty damn good.”