68. Bailey
sixty-eight
Bailey
Black coffee is better than sex first thing in the morning.
I bring my mug to my lips with both hands, sighing in relief after I take the first sip.
I pull up today’s Daily Reflection on my phone, quickly reading through it.
Twice. It’s early and I don’t think I absorbed fuck all when I read through it the first time.
The pharmacy is quiet this morning and the incoming orders have been surprisingly manageable so far.
I review all the electronic prescriptions that came in overnight and then log all the controlled medications.
After quickly logging the current inventory, I take a seat at the computer.
I take another sip of my coffee, tired because instead of sleeping, my brain decided it would be fun to rehash old shit and then play it again in my dreams. Thank fuck for caffeine.
Does Lolly still put more cream and sugar than should be allowed in his coffee?
I sigh, hating what I put him through. I can’t stop wondering what could have happened if he hadn’t found me. If he hadn’t cared enough to look.
I shiver. My parents would have been devastated. Liam, too. I was so selfish but my pain was so fucking unbearable I couldn’t see past it.
Maybe I should leave him alone. Maybe I was right all along and he’s just better off without me in his life.
Or maybe… maybe I’m slowly becoming the person he deserves. Even if it’s just a friendship. If that’s all he can offer I’ll gladly take it.
A small grin crosses my lips as I just fucking sit in the moment. Appreciating the heat of the coffee as it warms me, enjoying the quiet of the early morning. Letting my thoughts wander, again, without judgment this time, to a pair of brown eyes and a bright smile.
The morning flies by without a hitch. I even had some downtime and was able to start a new audiobook. A good narrator can take a book to another level, and that is a hill I’ll die on.
I’m startled when I hear the bell for the front door. No idea why I’m jumpy, probably the result of the shit ass few hours of sleep I managed to get.
I grab my white coat and make my way to the front, careful not to trip over the empty boxes leftover from stocking. That would be so fucking embarassing.
I don’t see anyone when I reach the counter so I log onto the computer to make sure I haven’t missed anything. Hoping I’ll look ready to be helpful if needed.
I catch a glimpse of movement out of my periphery and freeze in place when my eyes meet his.
It’s him.
Brown eyes and a mischievous smile steal my breath as he rounds the corner of the aisle and slowly walks toward me.
He’s in a black crop-top and low-rise, wide-legged jeans. One dangling earring hangs from his left ear, a thick chain necklace lays across his collar bones, and his fingers are adorned with at least half a dozen rings.
Oh, and the nails are red today.
Fucking. Red.
Why is that so hot?
A sizzling electricity makes its way up my spine and into my chest.
Fuck. Me.
“How are you, green eyes?” He comes to a stop at the countertop, placing one hand on the formica and leaning in my direction.
I can’t breathe. Words abandon me completely.
Thoughts? What thoughts?
“Cat got your tongue?” He asks teasingly. His smile grows, his white teeth brilliant in the afternoon light.
“No,” I manage, voice betraying me. “I, um, I just wasn’t expecting you.”
“Dissappointed?”
“No. No of course not,” I say. My cheeks burn with heat. I’ve no doubt they’re red as all fuck. “Just hot,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
This earns me a grin. Slow. Deliberate.
“Hot, huh? I can work with that.” He teases.
The pause between spoken words falls thickly between us.
“How are you?” I ask. God, someone please save me from myself.
“I’m doing well.” He purrs. “But I’m not here to talk about myself, green eyes.
I’m here asking you how you are.” He places his other hand on the counter and leans in even further.
He taps his fingers against the counter then stills.
His hand is now close enough to mine that moving an inch would count as a decision.
His eyes drop briefly to my mouth. Lingering just long enough to notice, but then they’re back on mine like it never happened.
I’m defenseless. Can’t find my resolve. He has me in his orbit and I am fucking putty in his hands.
Worthless and unable to form coherent sentences.
I gather my senses and force my vocal cords to comply.
“I’m–um, I’m okay. I think.”
I think? Jesus, Bailey. Super smooth.
His smile broadens and he lets out a smooth, deep laugh.
It goes straight to my dick. That sound is intoxicating.
The questioning look in his eyes feels intimate. The way he looks at me, like he still truly sees me. Sees through me. It knocks the air from my lungs.
His eyes are asking me for more.
For all of it.
Maybe even all of me.
My cheeks heat even further. I drag in a breath, trying to get my shit together. I’m at work. In my white coat. Behind the counter. I’ve got to get my head on straight.
Hah. Punny.
Idiot.
There’s something in his expression. It’s brief, almost hidden completely. But it lands. Hard.
What if I’m reading too much into this? What if he’s literally here because he needs something and I’m busy thinking with my dick?
“Is, um,” I say. “Is there something I can help you with? Something I can get for you?” I ask, straightening my posture.
The shift is immediate. Professional. Safe.
He straightens in response, seemingly taken aback by my sudden shift in tone.
“No, I don’t need anything,” he replies, placing his hands in his jeans pockets and taking a small step back. The newly established distance between us feels like it stretches for miles.
My stomach twists, something tightens in my chest, but I nod in understanding.
“If I’m being honest, I just wanted to see you again.”
“Oh.” That’s the best I’ve got.
Monosyllabic now, are we? Brilliant.
He huffs a quiet breath, a look I don’t recognize in his eyes.
My breaths aren’t enough. My lungs aren’t satisfied.
“Listen, I know we don’t really know each other anymore,” he pauses, holding my gaze. “But, I’d like to know you again. Whatever that might look like. No pressure, no expectations.” He shrugs, his composure slipping.
He wants to know me again?
“I just wanted you to know. And you don’t have to make a decision today. You don’t even have to respond.”
His eyes are soft, kind, beautiful.
I should be freaking out right now, but the vulnerability he just offered me quiets my unease. He calms something within me.
The silence between us is different, lighter than before.
“I think,” I say quietly. I clear my throat and bring my eyes to meet his. “I think I would like that.”
The words feel fragile as they leave my lips, but solid in their honesty.
A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying lifts from my shoulders in their wake.
“Okay.” He says, a slow smile stretching across his face as he takes another step away from the counter.
“Okay,” I echo.
“I’ll see you again, then.”
There’s certainty in his voice. A confidence in the decision he’s already made.
I watch him leave.
Unlimited possibilities float in the air behind him as I stand still.
It’s quiet again. Ordinary. Silent.
But it doesn’t feel the same. And neither, I think, do I.