Chapter 2 #2
His eyes lingered on Naomi. He seemed interested, but not overeager. He watched her the way someone watches the tide, waiting for the right moment to step forward.
Naomi straightened up, suddenly alert, awareness sharpening through the alcoholic haze. “I call dibs.”
I smirked into my drink. “You really don’t need to. It’s pretty obvious you’re the one he’s interested in.”
“You think?” Her smile brightened as she sneaked another look at the man, but it faded just as quickly as it appeared. “Oh shit, he’s coming over.”
She made a valiant attempt at smoothing down her hair and clothes, but it was mostly a lost cause. Not that it mattered. Something told me the guy walking our way wouldn’t mind if she looked a bit disheveled.
“Can I buy you two lovely ladies a drink?” he asked with a disarming smile, one that was designed to lower defenses.
The question was mostly for show anyway, with most of his attention focused on Naomi.
He wasn’t interested in casting a wide net—he had a clear target in mind and wasn’t the least bit shy about it.
“I’m good,” I said, holding up my drink. “But my friend here, on the other hand, could really use one.”
Naomi chose that moment to snap back to reality. She turned to me, a small frown tugging at her brow. “You sure you don’t mind?”
I already knew that if I said yes, she’d turn the guy down, no questions asked.
How annoying…
I couldn’t even be mad at her for ditching me when she was always so damn thoughtful.
I waved her off. “It’s fine, go have fun. Hayes will be here soon anyway. He can keep me company.”
That was all the reassurance Naomi needed. A smile lit up her face once more. “You’re the best, Shay. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
It was nothing I hadn’t heard before.
Naomi had a way of drawing people in—effortlessly, like gravity.
Whenever we went out, chances were she’d catch someone’s eye before the night was over.
She reminded me of a falling star—shining brightly for a moment, then gone before you could wish on it.
Her past relationships often flared the same way: sudden, all-consuming, and over before anyone could catch their breath.
People often mistook her brightness for warmth.
What they rarely saw coming was how quickly she’d pull away once the sparks began to cool.
I traced the rim of my glass in idle patterns. The night had begun to settle into that hazy, comfortable lull, where time stretched and blurred, softened by alcohol and the late hour. My gaze drifted absentmindedly over the rest of the bar.
The bartender moved through the motions, pouring shots in a practiced rhythm, muscle memory taking over.
In a shadowy corner booth, a handsy couple seemed intent on testing the limits of public decency laws.
On the opposite side of the room, a large group was huddled around a pool table, their laughter growing progressively louder with each round.
Then—
There was a shift in the air.
A sudden prickle of awareness crawled up my spine.
Not a second later, someone slid into Naomi’s vacated seat.
“Good evening, Detective.”
Of course. Who else would it be?
I raised my glass in silent acknowledgment as Hayes shrugged off his jacket, revealing a gray cable-knit sweater that seemed more suited for the library than a night out at a bar.
A faint hint of something woodsy followed after him—pine, maybe.
His eyes scanned the room before landing back on me. This time, they stayed.
“Where’s Naomi?” he asked.
“She left already. You’re late.”
Hayes hummed, as if he found my terseness mildly amusing. “Or maybe you’re the one who’s early.”
I bit back a sigh.
He didn’t bring up Naomi again. Instead, he settled into his seat, posture loose and relaxed. He looked completely at ease, like this was a routine we did, just two coworkers going out for a drink.
The bartender materialized in front of us, wiping down the scarred wood with a rag that had seen better days.
“What’ll it be?”
“Club soda with lime.”
I raised an eyebrow at his drink of choice. “Going wild tonight, I see.”
Hayes met my eyes, seemingly unfazed. “I don’t really drink alcohol.”
“Don’t like to lose control, huh?”
“Something like that.” He offered me another one of his easy smiles. “Truth be told, I’m a bit of a lightweight.”
Well, at least he admitted it. He was already doing better than Naomi in that department.
I finished off the rest of my drink and set the glass down with a soft clink. And that would be my cue. “Well… this was nice and all,” I said, pushing away from the bar, “but I should get going—”
“Have I done something to offend you, Detective?”
I paused mid-motion, one hand braced against the edge of the bar top.
The question had been stated plainly, like the thought had occurred to him just now.
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“What I meant to say is… I have a feeling that you don’t like me very much. And I can’t help but wonder why.” There was no bite or accusation in his tone, only curiosity, like he was genuinely puzzled by this.
Who the hell even asked a question like that out of the blue?
I tried to keep my annoyance in check. I really didn’t have the energy to do this right now.
“No, you haven’t done anything to offend me. If you had, trust me, you’d know.”
It wasn’t even a lie. I had no concrete reason to dislike Hayes, and yet… I couldn’t explain it exactly, but something about him just felt off.
Maybe it was the way in which he held himself, like a coiled viper—motionless for now, but ready to strike the moment it suited him.
Everything about him seemed calculated, like he’d mastered the art of moving through a room without leaving ripples.
It never failed to make the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end, some primal instinct warning me to be careful.
While he seemed friendly enough on the surface—polite, considerate, even charming at times—none of it felt real. I’d learned to trust my intuition over the years, and right now, it was telling me that Hayes was full of shit.
A flicker of amusement crossed his face, laced with something that almost looked like a challenge. “You can be honest with me, Detective. I promise I won’t get offended.”
I sat back down and gave him a long, assessing look.
Fine. I tried to be nice, but if that was how he wanted to play…
“Alright. If you really want to know… I had this dream once. In it, you were my dentist. But not, like, in a normal way. You kept talking about my emotional baggage while trying to pull out my molars with a pair of rusty pliers.”
At last, something genuine flashed through Hayes’s eyes.
Annoyance.
Pure, unfiltered irritation.
“Is this actually going somewhere?” he tried to ask, but I held up a finger, shushing him.
“Don’t interrupt me. I was just getting to the good part.
What was I saying… Ah, yes. So, I couldn’t talk back because of all the—” I gestured toward my face.
“Stuff happening inside my mouth, right? And that went on for quite some time until you suddenly, mid-sentence, turned into a swarm of moths. I don’t even know what that means, but it can’t be a good thing, right? I’m pretty sure moths are a bad omen.”
Hayes pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can stop now. Message received.”
His expression hovered somewhere in that gray area between annoyance and indifference, like he couldn’t decide if I was worth the reaction.
I wasn’t sure what he expected. It was exactly the kind of answer a question like that deserved. And if it also happened to ruffle his perfectly composed feathers a bit, well… that was just a happy coincidence.
“Don’t get your lab coat in a twist, Hayes,” I said, figuring I should at least throw him a bone. The guy was only trying to be friendly, in his own way. “Look, I have nothing against you personally. I’m just not the warm and fuzzy type, in case you haven’t already noticed.”
It wasn’t like I could actually tell him the truth, now could I? That there was something about him that set off every internal alarm I had?
While I wasn’t a stranger to toeing the line between blunt honesty and outright rudeness, even I had some tact. Besides, I had yet to meet a person who wasn’t wearing some sort of mask. It wasn’t always about hiding something sinister. For some, it was simply about making it through the day.
Hayes’s mask just happened to fit a little more seamlessly than most.
His expression lifted slightly, like a stray puppy perking up at the first hint of kindness. “Stay for a drink, then.”
I hesitated, my fingers fiddling with the watch on my wrist, the metal warm against my skin. “I don’t know. It’s getting kind of late…”
Part of me wanted to leave, to escape this strange interaction and go home to my empty bed. But another part—the part that was already a few drinks deep and feeling pleasantly numb—didn’t actually mind the company.
Hayes didn’t try to change my mind or press the issue. He continued to watch me, patient as ever, like he already knew what my answer would be.
Fuck it. Why the hell not?
“Alright, fine,” I muttered, settling back onto the barstool with a resigned sigh. “But just one drink, you hear me? I have to get up early tomorrow.”
The smile I got in response was almost sweet.
It was too bad he still gave me the creeps.
“This one’s on me,” Hayes said, raising a hand to signal the bartender.
Now he was speaking my language.
I leaned against the bar and propped my chin on my palm. With his attention elsewhere, I took the opportunity to quietly observe him.
Hayes had one of those faces that didn’t catch the eye at first glance.
It wasn’t striking in any traditional sense, but if you looked at it long enough, the small imperfections would slowly start to draw you in.
There was a small crook in the slope of his nose, most likely from an old break that hadn’t been properly reset, leaving it slightly off-center.
The lines around his eyes and mouth were faint, like he hadn’t spent much of his life smiling.
His lower lip had a slight fullness to it, just enough to soften the rest of his more angular features.
Along his jaw, a five o’clock shadow was slowly beginning to creep in.
“So, then…” I began, breaking the silence. “What exactly is your deal?”
“My deal?” Hayes echoed, turning back to face me fully.
“Why do you want me to like you so much? Is it some weird ego thing, or do you just have an overwhelming need to be universally adored?”
The bluntness of the question didn’t seem to offend him; it drew a quiet laugh, instead.
“You really don’t mince your words, do you, Detective?”
“Nah, I don’t like to waste my time with bullshit. I always say what I mean.”
It was easier that way. Less room for misunderstandings or hurt feelings down the line.
“I can see that,” Hayes said, a thoughtful note entering his voice. He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve. “I guess I just figured that since we’re stuck working together for the foreseeable future, we might as well try to get along.”
I nodded, turning it over in my head. “That’s fair. So you want us to be friends. Is that it?”
“Nothing more, nothing less,” he confirmed, offering me a smile that probably made old ladies stop him in the street just to chat.
“I have a feeling there’s always something more with you, Hayes,” I mused.
But then again, maybe I was wrong. I had the unfortunate habit of reading too much into things, which, while great for detective work, was significantly less helpful when dealing with normal human interactions.
I should at least try to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I continued to watch him over the rim of my glass, feeling the weight of the alcohol starting to settle into my bones, making everything softer around the edges. “Alright then, friend. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”