Chapter 14
STRING OF THOUGHTS
JAHLANI
Roman looks different. Better. The white button-down does wonders for his chest and shoulders. The soft hue of the lighting makes his eyes appear even lighter. Trent’s description echoes through her head, and she wants to kick herself for volunteering to come over here.
She feels less irritated than she would have expected at seeing him across the counter. She feels …
Curious.
I have a daughter. She’s sick.
If he’s surprised to see her, he doesn’t show it, and that sets an acidic feeling in her stomach. Why does she care that he doesn’t acknowledge her?
He slides a swift, rehearsed smile onto his face. “Sure, three green tea shots and a lemon drop martini coming right up.”
She holds out her card with trembling fingers for him to take.
“On the house,” he says, something sharp in his eyes.
“What? No. I can pay for my own drink,” she starts, but he moves away before she can utter more protests. “Shit,” she mutters under her breath, but she can’t help the tug at the corner of her lips because what are the odds?
So, this is what you look like when you work.
She watches him from the other side of the counter.
He’s smiling, charming, oozing confidence as he works his way serving patrons.
For a moment, she wonders if he lied to her earlier.
He doesn’t look like someone who is carrying so much weight.
Her elbows rest on the counter, and she drops her chin in her hand as she stares, the warmth of the previous shots making her feel a little lighter.
Looser.
Exactly what she wants.
Her eyes slide over his physique as he works pouring drinks, the tension in his arms as he shakes the bottles, the way his head falls back when he laughs with the bartender to his left.
If I’m late, it’s work.
I’m attracted to you.
You’re off limits.
Her head falls to her chest when his eyes flash to hers, warmth flooding her stomach, before looking back up.
He’s still staring as he makes his way over to her.
Setting the drink down, his eyes trail the length of black material covering her frame, the expanse of her collarbone, the curve of her shoulders, to the loose fabric at the top of her thighs.
She brings the drink to her lips slowly, sipping the sugar from the rim, mixing it with the tartness of the liquid.
His eyes remain on hers. “How is it?”
Moving the glass, she turns her lip up.
Perfect.
“Disgusting,” she says, lowering it back down to the counter.
And then, with her fingers, she makes a zero followed by a five.
The sound that follows is loud and unforeseen.
She watches as he sobers, shaking his head, and the room seems warmer because she made him laugh.
His eyes are back on her, and his lips part, ready to say something, and surprisingly, she finds herself leaning closer to hear him when Trent slides next to her.
“Nice,” he says, collecting the shots. Jahlani straightens herself, blinking as she grips her drink tighter. Trent nods toward her hand.
“What’s that?”
“Lemon drop martini,” she says, extending the glass to him. He leans forward, sipping from the straw while she holds it and something slimy glides through her stomach because she knows how this looks.
But anyone with an eye for detail would notice that their eyes are the exact same hue of brown, and that they share similar shapes in the arch of their nose and the curve of their mouths.
Leaning back, Trent nods in approval before making his way back to the table. Turning back, she sees that Roman has moved to the other end of the bar, and her shoulders drop.
Pressing her fingers to her forehead, she laughs to herself because why should she care what he thinks? Blowing out a breath, she walks away with her glass, not looking back.
As they work through their fifth shot, Teryn convinces them both to dance, dragging them to the center.
She isn’t sure how much time has passed as Trent disappears with a woman, and Teryn leaves to use the bathroom, leaving Jahlani alone.
She moves to a more secluded corner of the room, finishing the rest of her drink which has her feeling fuzzy and warm, and light.
So light.
Shutting her eyes, she leans her head against the wall.
She’s warm everywhere, and her heart starts pounding.
She shrugs her jacket off, dumping it on the floor.
Soon, she feels a shift in the air. A tug in the back of her mind, and she opens her eyes, staring and saying nothing.
Her body is warm and tingly from the drinks. Only from the drinks she tells herself.
Roman’s eyes sweep over her, making her feel … making her feel what?
“Jahlani,” he says, voice sliding out frustratingly deep and smooth. Too smooth.
“Hmm.” She closes her eyes, trying to block him out. Trying and failing. Failing a lot more than usual.
“Are you, perhaps, stalking me?” he asks, his tone airy. Playful. Like they weren’t arguing less than 48 hours ago. Like it didn’t bother him as much as it did her. Like he’s forgotten about it. She hears him shuffle closer and her stomach tenses, but she stays rooted to the spot.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” she says, monotone as she folds her arms across her chest. Her eyes fly open when his shirt brushes against her fingertips.
Her cheeks flush under his gaze—no, the lights.
It’s definitely that—yes, it has to be. It’s making the room hotter.
“I’ll be sure to add this to my list of places to never return to,” she says.
Willing the hum and warmth spreading throughout her body to go away.
He lets out a small gust of air, seeming charmed by her threat, which infuriates her because she definitely isn’t trying to be with him.
“What? You think I’m joking?” She tries to sound fierce, but her speech is slow. Delayed. Her voice comes out more sluggish than she intends.
“No. I don’t,” he murmurs. “But I’m glad you’re here,” he says, stepping even closer. She’s now pressed against his front, and she inhales sharply.
“I want to finish our conversation from earlier,” he says, leaning over her, pressing a hand to the wall above her head, caging her in. “But you’re drunk. So, it’s going to have to wait.”
And the liquor is definitely getting to her because she doesn’t push him away. She licks her lips, tilting her head to meet his eyes.
“I’m not drunk,” she says, her voice sounding weak. “I remember everything, and I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”
He rubs the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “It’s okay, Jahlani.”
She scoffs, looking down at her feet, which are currently tucked between his shoes. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Be nice to me,” she says, looking off to the side.
“I can’t stand it, Roman.” She turns back to face him, folding her arms over her chest, her fingers digging into her arms. “You did nothing wrong, and I had all these negative opinions of you. And I made you like them and you’re not.
You’re …” She trails off, clamping her lips shut when she looks back at his eyes that seem brighter. Hopeful.
“I’m?” he asks, his voice low as he draws in a breath, eyes raking over her features.
Charming in a way that’s dangerous.
“A dad,” she says, drawing out the word unintentionally, her body curving more into the wall. “You’re responsible for a tiny human, and I’ve been making your life … so much worse.”
“Jahlani, you didn’t know,” he says, his voice softer this time.
She frowns down at the ground, not liking the way her throat clamps shut. “Maybe I am bitter and twisted.”
Roman removes his hand from the wall, exhaling a ragged breath as he steps back, and Jahlani regrets saying anything because she’s suddenly desperate for his warmth.
“I didn’t mean that,” he says, his voice heavy.
“Yeah, you did,” she says, her eyes finding the ground again. “And it’s okay, because I think it’s true.”
For several seconds, neither of them speaks. The distant sound of people laughing, the bass of the music, and the clattering of drinks being mixed, fill the tight space. Jahlani closes her eyes as her temple starts to pulse, and she draws her fingers to the sides, applying pressure as she winces.
He needs to go away. He’s making everything worse. He’s making her feel things that she has no business feeling.
Two fingers find their way to her jaw, and he turns her face back toward him. Her stomach flips and her eyes drop to his mouth.
“No, I didn’t. I was frustrated at you and myself, but I don’t think that about you,” he murmurs, dropping his fingers from her face.
She shakes her head, her skin sparking where he touched.
“You’re so gentle with me,” she says, inhaling sharply. Her eyes bounce up to his. “And I’m so …”
“So?”
“Not with you.”
His eyes wash over her before falling to her hand. His eyes narrow and he tilts his head. “What happened to your wrist?”
She blinks, folding her arms across her chest. “Some guy in here grabbed me when I was dancing earlier,” she murmurs, her head starting to pound. “I just bruise easily. It’s nothing.”
A dark look crosses his features, and she watches the pulse in his neck tick as his jaw clenches. Her eyes close as the thrumming in her head increases and her stomach shakes.
“Who’d you come here with?”
She wants to slide down and take a nap. “Why do you care?”
“You’re drunk. I need to make sure you get home safely.”
She waves him off, swaying slightly. “I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”
“Stop being stubborn.”
“I said I’m fine.” She opens her eyes, pushes from the wall forcefully to prove her point that—See?
She’s not drunk. Her mind is not a garbled string of thoughts, and she can walk in a straight line but her heels are harder to walk in than she remembers, and she finds herself stumbling into his firm chest as his arms instinctively cage around her. Anchor her.
“Oh,” she says stupidly, staring at his chest. “I guess I am a little drunk.” She lets out a soft set of laughs before going limp in his arms, letting the weight of everything fall away against him. She can’t seem to find the energy to pretend that she isn’t happy that he came looking for her.