The Burgers #2
His smirk grows wicked as he leans closer, resting his chin on his hand. “Oh? Is that so, love? Good with our hands, you say? I’d hate for you to elaborate on that.”
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, trying to play it off, but the blush betrays me.
“You brought it up,” he points out, his grin wide and shameless. “But I’ll let you know that I believe you’re not wrong. I do enjoy being hands-on… What about Cancer?”
“Why do you care to know?” I ask, feigning innocence and laughing, because he knows damn well that’s my sign.
“Oh, just curious. Aren’t Cancers supposed to be emotional, loyal, and maybe a little, ” he pauses, a smirk playing on his lips, “moody?”
I scoff, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Excuse me?”
He chuckles. “Relax, love. I think it’s fitting. Cancers crave deep connections, and Virgos? Well, we analyze everything to death, but we’re loyal to the core. Sounds like quite the dynamic for us, doesn’t it?”
“It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen,” I reply, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a smile. It’s funny that he, the skeptic, even knows anything about astrology, specifically my sign.
Get a grip, heart. It’s your best friend in front of you. Don’t fuck it up.
“Or,” he counters, leaning closer, his voice softer now, “a perfect balance: you, the intuitive, deeply feeling Cancer, and I, the meticulous, detail-obsessed Virgo. Together, we’d be unstoppable. And probably drive each other crazy in the process. But I think I can handle it. What about you?”
“You’re really into this whole compatibility thing, aren’t you?” I say, laughing, though I swear my pulse is louder than my voice.
“Hey, I’m just saying… we make a good match,” he replies, his voice dipping just enough to make my stomach flip.
“You think so?” I ask, meeting his gaze, suddenly unsure if we’re still joking.
He shrugs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Guess we’ll have to keep seeing each other to find out.”
I laugh nervously, popping another fry into my mouth to avoid responding. My stomach feels unsteady, like I’ve stepped too close to the edge of something I can’t name.
“You know what both our signs have in common?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure you’ll enlighten me,” he says, leaning forward with a grin, clearly amused.
I roll my eyes but continue, trying to keep my voice steady. “They both love hard.”
His teasing smirk falters just slightly, his grin softening into something warmer. “Love hard, huh?” he echoes, his tone still playful, but his eyes, his eyes are serious. “Care to elaborate?”
I swallow, shifting in my seat. “It means we’re both loyal to a fault,” I reply quickly, hoping to deflect the weight of the conversation. “Once we care about someone, we’re all in.”
He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Sounds intense. So when we let someone in, it’s forever, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much,” I admit, shrugging. “We’re all about commitment and stability.”
He exhales, nodding slightly. “Guilty as charged,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But let’s not pretend it’s all sunshine and rainbows. We can also be… cautious. Over thinkers. Maybe a little too guarded for our own good.”
I smile knowingly. “Cautious is just another word for careful. And overthinking? That just means we care too much.”
His gaze lingers on me for a second longer than it should. “Yeah. We do, don’t we?”
The air shifts. Something unsaid lingers between us, something neither of us is willing to touch just yet.
“And let’s not forget that we can also be stubborn,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.
He smirks. “Speak for yourself.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Virgos are literally known for being perfectionists and control freaks.”
“And Cancers are known for being overly emotional and dramatic.”
I gasp in mock offense. “Excuse me? We are emotionally in tune, there’s a difference.”
“Oh, of course,” he says, grinning as he leans in slightly, again. “Does that mean I’ve passed your emotionally in-tune high standards?”
The question catches me off guard, and I falter, my cheeks burning.
I cross my arms, feigning nonchalance. “Well, I haven’t run away yet, have I?”
He chuckles, the sound warm and rich, shaking his head. “If you told me a year ago that I’d be sitting here discussing zodiac signs, I would’ve laughed in your face. You’re something else, you know that?”
“Takes one to know one,” I fire back, grabbing the last of my fries.
His grin softens, his gaze still lingering in me, always lingering in me, but this time, he’s like he’s about to say something else, something I’m not sure I’m ready to hear.
But before either of us can, my worst nightmare comes to life.
“Wow, look who it is.”
The words cut through the air like an icy blade, sharp and unwelcome. The fragile bubble of intimacy between us shatters instantly.
“The nerdy witch,” the voice continues, dripping with mockery that feels like a punch to my gut.
My fists clench instinctively, nails digging into my palms as heat rises to my face, although this time, it’s not for a good reason.
My stomach churns, twisting into knots.
I don’t even have to look to know who it is.
Motherfucking Patrick.
I force my eyes open, ready to tell him off, but before I can speak, he adds, “And the junkie psycho.”
That one isn’t for me.
K moves before I even register what’s happening.
His chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he stands, his movements sharp and deliberate.
His fist connects with Patrick’s face in one clean, brutal motion, the sound sharp and satisfying.
Patrick stumbles back, clutching his nose, his eyes wide with shock and fury.
“What the fuck?” Patrick spits, his voice muffled and nasally, blood beginning to drip from his nose. He looks up at K, his bravado faltering as he takes in the steady, unyielding glare aimed his way.
“Say something like that to her again,” K growls, his voice low and dangerous, “and I’ll make sure none of your teeth will keep stuck in your mouth.”
The room feels like it’s holding its breath.
No, actually. I’m the one holding my breath.
But all the conversations around us have stopped, and all eyes are on us.
I can feel the weight of the stares, but all I can focus on is K, his clenched fists, the way his chest rises and falls as he steadies his breathing, and the sheer intensity of the rage radiating off him.
Patrick recovers enough to sneer, though it’s clear he’s rattled. “What’s your problem, man? Can’t take a joke?”
K doesn’t flinch. “No.”
Patrick takes a step back, clearly weighing his options.
Without his usual entourage, he looks smaller somehow, less menacing.
His bravado falters as he takes in K’s steady, unyielding glare.
The room feels tense, the kind of silence that comes before a storm.
His eyes dart around the room, probably hoping for someone to intervene, but no one does.
“Whatever,” Patrick finally mutters, his tone defensive. “Freaks.” The word is quieter this time, almost mumbled, as he turns and stalks toward the exit, his shoulders stiff with frustration and embarrassment.
I’m still frozen in place, my heart pounding in my chest until K turns back to me, his expression softening instantly.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, a stark contrast to the fury from moments ago.
“Am I okay?” I echo, finally finding my voice. “Are you okay? You just punched Patrick in the face.”
He shrugs, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “He deserved it.”
I can’t help it; a laugh bubbles up, spilling out before I can stop it.
The absurdity of the situation hits me all at once, and I cover my mouth to stifle the sound, but it’s no use.
“What?” K asks, his smile widening as he watches me.
“That was…” I shake my head, trying to find the right words. “That was the best thing I’ve seen in years.”
Before he can answer, a voice cuts in: “Alright, you two. Time to go.” A staff member hovers a few feet away, arms crossed, with Patrick glaring from the other side of the room, holding a napkin to his nose. Seems like he didn’t leave, after all.
K raises his hands in mock surrender, still grinning at me as he grabs his jacket and even throws me a wink while we’re both escorted to the exit door.
Outside, the cool night air hits my face, and he bursts out laughing. I can’t help laughing with him.
“Fuck, that was something else,” I manage between giggles.
“Yeah, yeah. You just wounded me.”
“Me? How?”
“I can’t believe I’m not the best thing you’ve seen in years,” he says, feigning offense.
“You were,” I say, still giggling. “Until that punch. God, we’re probably banned for life.”
“Worth it,” he says again, his tone light but his eyes serious. “For you? Worth it.”
I smile, warmth flooding my chest, the realization hitting me like a wave.
Behave, heart. Behave.
But it’s no use.
If I had any doubts left that I was in love with my best friend, they’re gone now.
He got me.