9. Ridiculous idiots and the audacity of men
RIDICULOUS IDIOTS AND THE AUDACITY OF MEN
Ro
Work is slow tonight. I’m leaning against the bar with my chin in the palm of one hand, elbow propped on the counter. Out of sight beneath the bar, I’m snapping my fingers with my other hand, causing the hidden flame to pop into being and disappear with each snap.
I sigh, glancing around. There’s no one for me to serve, making it increasingly difficult to keep my mind off Alorra. I roll the conjured flame across my knuckles, savoring the warmth I can feel but not see, then roll and bounce it between my fingers as my eyes start to droop with boredom.
My gaze has started to fuzz as I stare at the clock near the register, the neon numbers blurry, when a presence enters the bar.
I know that presence.
My focus snaps to attention. My spine cracks when I straighten too quickly, and my elbow slips off the bar.
I clench my fist, dousing my fidget-flame, and my entire body is pulled toward her.
Black jeans, kickass black boots, a dark top baring her stomach, flowing silver hair, delicate line tattoos curling over her fingers while swallows take flight behind her ear.
Alorra eyes me as she saunters up to the bar, tipping her chin higher but not giving any indication of how she feels about seeing me again.
I grin in the face of her apathy; I know it’s a mask.
She gave herself away the first time when she asked about me, and again by showing up of her own free will tonight.
No bargain needed.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I say, letting the words roll off my tongue.
She side-eyes me, leans against the bar, and looks out over the empty dance floor.
“Are you drinking tonight?” I ask.
She turns around to face me after a few moments and slides onto a bar stool. I don’t miss the way her eyes flick up and down my form before she looks to the wall of drinks behind me.
“Sure,” she replies.
“You want the purple drink from last time, what I’m assuming is your usual trio of shots, or something new?”
Alorra shrugs, a graceful rise and drop of one shoulder as she tilts her head, but I don’t miss the glimmer that lights in her eyes at the question.
I grin and make the same sparkly drink she pretended not to like last time.
I love how the swirling cocktail glitter in the drink sets off the silver shimmer in her hair.
I hold the drink out, inviting her to take it from me. Her fingers brush mine and send a tingling zap up my arm. I might not wash that hand for the rest of the night now. She stares at me, and I wonder if she felt it too.
I wait until she takes a sip, looking for that approving sparkle in her eye before I speak again.
“So, I told you my name, I think it’s only fair you return the favor, no?” I say.
I already know her name from her ID, but I don’t know if she realizes that. Besides, I want her to tell me. It feels important for some reason.
She pauses sipping the drink to glare at me over the rim of the glass, and I put on my most endearing smile. If she’s even the tiniest bit attracted to me, I’m hopeful it’ll help my case of winning her over.
Alorra lowers the glass to the bar, rolling the stem between her fingers as she spins it.
She angles her head, and her eyes run up and down my body again, this time leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
I have to do a double take to ensure there’s no actual fire, as the heat from her gaze feels remarkably similar to my own flames.
I straighten under her perusal, practically preening at the feeling of her gaze on my skin. My grin grows, turning into a cocky smirk when her eyes linger in multiple places. On my mouth, my arms, my hands, my crotch.
She purses her lips then jerks her eyes away as her cheeks tinge with the barest hint of a delightful blush.
“Fine,” she says. “It’s Alorra, but…”
Alorra trails off, eyeing me again. I might have already known how lovely her name is, but hearing her tell me herself has elation thrumming my heart into a rapid beat. My demon is also satisfied at having tricked her into sharing information she didn’t know I already had.
My inner demon is ridiculous and an idiot. Does that make me a ridiculous idiot too?
“But?” My grin falters for a moment, but hitches back up when she replies.
“You can call me Lor,” she mumbles the words into her cocktail as she raises it to her lips for another drink.
I didn’t think my smile could get any bigger, but she just gave me a gift. A nickname.
A crack in her armor.
“Lor,” I murmur, tasting the perfection of her name on my tongue.
She takes another sip of my new favorite drink, and a faint hum of satisfaction reaches my ears when she licks her lips.
I want to lick those lips. And more. My eyes are glued to them until she reaches up and snaps her fingers in my face. I jolt with surprise, then offer a sheepish grin. She rolls her eyes and some of the tension falls from her shoulders.
“So, Lor,” I say, snagging a stool to sit on and folding my arms on the bar across from her.
She pauses, eyeing me warily. She’s a skittish one, but I don’t mind.
“Yes…?”
“Ro,” I offer.
She rolls her eyes again and one corner of her mouth tugs up. Another win for me.
“Yes, Ro?”
“Do you like your drink?”
Lor blinks in surprise, then looks down at the dregs of her purple cocktail.
“It’s decent,” she says.
“Decent.” I hum a noncommittal noise and she narrows her eyes. I’ll get her to admit she likes it eventually. “Alright,” I say with a decisive nod. “I’ll accept decent for now.”
She snorts and I huff a laugh in surprise. I didn’t know she was capable of such an unrefined sound. Lor spins her drink as I happily bask in her presence.
“What do you do for work?” I say.
I’m hoping she’ll open up and share more with me. Although I’ve enjoyed tailing her, I haven’t been able to figure out what she does, and it’s starting to drive me crazy. Is she an artist? A musician? In school? There’s no way she does something boring like a desk job, it just wouldn’t fit her.
“Do you interrogate all your patrons?” she says,
I huff out a disbelieving breath as I look around dramatically at the lack of other patrons, and she almost cracks a smile before tipping back the last sip of her drink.
“Even when this place is packed, I have eyes only for you.”
I’m quite proud of that line, but I’m not surprised by her reaction.
Lor freezes for a moment, staring at me in disbelief before she deliberately places her empty glass back on the bar. Then she purses her lips, stands, and strides out the door.
I chuckle under my breath. I’m not bothered; this seems to be the norm for her and if she wants to hide from me, I’ll let her think she can.
For now.
Besides, I caught the surprised look in her eye, the way her cheeks just started to flush as she froze for a heartbeat before jumping up and stomping her way to the door.
Finn walks up and slaps me on the back.
“Tough one man, better luck next time,” he says.
“Nah, she’s coming around,” I reply.
I can be patient for her.
Lor
The absolute audacity of that man. That was the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard, so why on earth did it send my heart racing? I am not a horny teenager.
This is unacceptable.
I stalk out the door, wishing I could slam it behind me.
I stomp over to my bike, pounding my feet into the pavement to rid the queasy, fluttery feeling of moths in my stomach, and scowling at the foreign sensation of a grin wanting to stretch across my face.
The adorable, annoying cheer of that stupid bartender with his stupid sparkling eyes and infuriatingly sexy smile. No, wait.
“Ugh!” I shout my frustration to the sky before kicking my bike into gear, not bothering with a helmet. I need to feel the wind stinging my cheeks, the speed and rumble beneath me as I soar away from the troubles plaguing me.
Unfortunately, it’s a stardust-less night, so I’m back on my bike again the next day after having been rudely awoken in the early afternoon by an aching pull in my veins.
It was so urgent I didn’t even have time to eat, barely managing to splash water on my face and rinse my mouth before I was stumbling into my boots and fumbling to lock the door behind me.
It feels like my very soul is urging me to move, tugging me relentlessly onward.
I wouldn’t be able to resist it even if I tried.
This is why everyone in my family goes mad, because it’s uncontrollable, this curse. Those who don’t understand it think it’s a gift, to be able to sense fallen stars.
But it’s not. It’s the opposite.
I’m on a long stretch of highway leading south out of the city, and it’s relatively empty considering the time of day. My brain is still foggy from sleep, and I’m so caught up in the pull that I don’t notice another motorcycle on the road until they’re right next to me.
I startle when the other biker pulls up alongside me, doing a double take and blinking to clear my vision. Then I recognize the black and purple bike, the matching black helmet with purple face shield, and the cocky, playful demeanor of the person riding it as belonging to Ro.
I shake my head, frustrated at the zip of excited adrenaline that prickles across my skin, and push the throttle.
I lean into it, bowing over my handlebars as I floor it and the engine roars.
I hear his wild laugh as I zoom past him, or perhaps I just sense it, somehow knowing that would be his reaction.
My mirrors show him zig-zagging behind me, frolicking on his bike before he holds up a hand. I glance ahead, then back in the mirror, squinting to see what he’s doing.
He’s holding up three fingers, and he pumps his hand in the air once, now holding up only two. My breath catches in my chest. I look ahead, then back to the mirror. Ro motions again, now holding up one finger. Tingles of adrenaline spark as my heart skips and then races.
Ro slams his hand down and flattens his body to his bike. I don’t react quickly enough, underestimating his burst of speed, and he catches me in seconds. He zooms ahead, and a whooping laugh reaches my ears.
I shake my head with a grin, knowing he can’t see my expression. I eye him on his bike, the tight grip of his hands and the way his thighs hug the seat. My brain provides a drool-worthy visual of what he might look like without a shirt on, back and arm muscles rippling as he maneuvers around me.
It feels like my eyes are glued to him as he drops back, pulling up next to me again.
I ignore him for a moment, forcing a neutral expression back on my face.
When I glance to the left, he’s pushed his face shield up, a smile in his eyes.
They’re dancing with mirth, and he does a little shimmy with his shoulders when we make eye contact.
My gaze darts away, back to the road ahead as I pinch my lips, forcing them to remain in a straight line.
He slows, falling behind me again. I frown, eyebrows drawing together as I watch him increase the distance between us in my mirror. What is he doing?
I realize after a few minutes that he’s simply back to following me. I guess he had his fun, and now… what? My curiosity peaks as my brain stumbles over the conundrum that is Ro—Foras Astaroth Cromwell. I can’t believe I remembered that ridiculous name.
But why is he so interested in me? He can’t know about my ability. Almost no one does with it being such a tightly guarded secret.
Outside of my absent mother, only the man who blackmails me is aware, having somehow figured it out.
I’ve long accepted that I wasn’t as careful as I should have been when I was so desperate for cash that I decided to wander to the seedier parts of town to sell the most precious thing I had.
I’ve never felt so ashamed as I did that day, handing over some of the first stardust I’d ever collected on my own.
It’s at this moment that I notice the renewed ache in my bones, and realize that cursed pull on my soul receded while I was playing with Ro.
I blink, glancing in my mirrors to ensure he’s still behind me. How did he do that? Never before when I’ve been taken by the pull have I been able to ignore or shake it for any length of time.
He’s an absolute mystery.
Ro’s ability to distract me, to make me feel things I’ve never felt before and long thought myself incapable of feeling.
Not to mention his bizarre fixation on me.
He must have heard rumors. There are stories about my ancestors, the star-chasers, and he must have put two-and-two together while following me these last couple weeks. My heart plummets as my thoughts churn.
I mean honestly, what else would I be doing digging in the dirt in the middle of nowhere, especially that first night at a very obvious impact site?
I growl into my helmet, frustrated with my lack of self preservation.
I cannot have given away my secret so easily for a second time.
Even if he hasn’t figured it out, I have no way of avoiding him following me now.
My star-chaser curse won’t let me deviate from the path, and Ro isn’t going to stop following me.
It’s wide open fields with small patches of trees interspersed—not much room for losing a tail.
Curses tumble from my lips, but all I can do is keep going, so I push the throttle and hope I can ditch him with speed. I refuse to look behind me again, ignoring the infuriating man following me as I continue to follow the urge in my blood.