Chapter 2 #3
It feels like we’ve been dancing for hours, lost in our own little bubble without a care in the world. It’s a feeling I want to bottle up and keep forever.
When I finally stop moving to catch my breath, I realize that I just drank alcohol!
For years, I had all these complicated thoughts about drinking. After waiting so long, it just felt pointless to start, and I’d already made it this far, so… why bother?
I didn’t really notice the effects while I was dancing, but now that I have stopped, there’s a strange buzzing under my skin.
I feel a little dizzy, but my worries feel like they’re a million miles away, and the only thing that matters right now is having fun.
Not chasing answers about my family. Definitely not stressing over the interview I have scheduled.
For once, I’m just living in the moment.
I start making my way back to our table because, at this point, I desperately need some water. But as soon as I take a few steps, I feel myself sway a little.
Oh no.
I quickly glance around, hoping no one notices, and do my best to act… sober.
Is that even a thing? Can you act sober? Or do you just end up looking suspiciously like a drunk person trying not to look drunk?
The thought makes me snicker under my breath, which probably isn’t helping my case. I start walking again, a little slower this time, focusing on keeping my balance. Rachel is still on the dance floor, swaying like her life depends on it, so I take the opportunity to catch my breath.
I must’ve been gone for too long, because suddenly, she appears out of nowhere and smacks my ass.
“I’m having the best time ever!” she shouts over the music. Before I can even respond, she finishes the rest of her drink in one gulp, grins at me, and disappears back into the crowd like a whirlwind.
I laugh to myself as I head toward the bar for some water. But just as I turn around, I walk straight into a wall of muscle.
Literally.
I bounce off him hard enough that I probably would’ve toppled over completely if two strong hands hadn’t wrapped around my shoulders, steadying me.
And if I'm being honest, he’s doing a lot more than just holding me up right now.
His grip is firm, and… incredibly effective at keeping me upright. Which, to be fair, is probably for the best, considering I was struggling to walk in a straight line earlier.
I try to look up, hoping to get a glimpse of his face, only to realize that I've run into an actual human brick wall. My heart skips a beat as I take in just how solid he is. It's the kind of effortless strength that makes my stomach dip unexpectedly.
He’s still holding onto me and trying to get a good look at his face is proving to be difficult.
Mostly because—holy hell—he’s tall. Up close, it's even more obvious. He has a strong build, and the kind of confidence that comes with knowing exactly how good he looks. Not that I care. But still…
I tilt my head back slightly, realizing I might need a damn step stool if I want a proper view. And then, he speaks.
“Excuse me, lass,” his tone is low and playful, but I can hear the amusement dancing in his voice. “Good thing I was here to catch ye, eh?”
Then, he winks. His blonde hair falls into his face and he shakes it back into place.
The accent alone makes the whole moment so much worse, in the best possible way.
Heat floods my face, betraying me instantly. I let out a nervous laugh, completely aware of how ridiculous I must look staring up at him like some kind of drooling idiot.
Luckily, I recover quickly. Mostly.
“Well, to be fair, if you hadn’t been standing there when I turned around, I wouldn’t have needed catching.” I keep my tone playful, despite the fact that my heart is hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
His grin widens, and I become hyper-aware of the fact that his hand is still lightly resting on my arm. A slow burn seeps into my skin, making it incredibly difficult to think.
“However,” I add quickly, trying not to sound breathless, “I do appreciate it. I’d really hate to face-plant in front of a room full of strangers.”
He throws his head back and laughs. It's a deep, rich sound that seems to fill the whole room, and relief floods through me. At least he has a sense of humor.
“What are you two doing in a place like this?” His eyes are bright with curiosity. “Are you on holiday, or are ya here for work?”
I let out a soft chuckle, finally feeling a little steadier on my feet. “We’re here for anything and everything. Adventure. Exploring. Some family stuff.” I scrunch my nose at the thought of working. “And, unfortunately, I do have to work a little bit.”
Something unreadable flickers behind his eyes. The low lighting doesn't help. I can’t tell if the sudden heat creeping up my neck is because of him, but I suddenly feel very warm under his stare.
I shift, forcing a casual tone. “What about you?”
His chuckle is quiet. And that’s when I notice a single, devastating little dip on one side of his mouth.
Okay, he’s not the beautiful man bun guy from earlier by any means, but he’s still very attractive. And that accent is enough to make any rational thought evaporate.
I realize that he’s still talking and my brain scrambles to catch up, praying I don’t look as dazed as I feel.
“... and yes, most of us live in the area. We’re actually out celebrating.”
Meanwhile, I’m standing here, barely holding onto my last two brain cells.
“Well, now I have to know,” I say, tilting my head. “What kind of celebration involves a dart game?”
His lips twitch like I just asked him something ridiculous. And maybe I have. But really, when I think celebration, I don’t immediately picture a bunch of grown men yelling over darts like their lives depend on it.
“To be fair,” he laughs as amusement flickers in his eyes again. “It started with drinks, then someone made a bet, and now…” he gestures toward the commotion behind him, where accusations fly across the bar. “Now it’s a full-on war.”
I raise an eyebrow, lips curving. “Sounds serious.”
It’s surprising how easy he is to talk to. No hovering. No lingering stares that make my skin crawl. No obnoxious pick-up lines trying to get me to leave with him.
He’s just… normal. Friendly, even.
And maybe it’s the alcohol warming my blood, but I feel myself relax. I can feel the tension that was buzzing under my skin since we walked into this bar finally starts to fade.
“One of the guys is celebrating his engagement,” he nods toward the man in question.
I follow his gaze and spot the blonde guy laughing mid-throw, locked in what appears to be a brutal match against… Oh.
The stunning God from earlier.
The man bun.
I quickly school my features, keeping my expression neutral, but something must flicker across my face. Because when I glance back, he’s watching me. Closely.
His lips curve slowly. “Not big on engagement parties?”
I blink, heat crawling up my neck.
“What? No! That’s—” I flounder, scrambling for something to say that doesn’t sound stupid. “That’s exciting for him! Who’s winning?”
The way his lips twitch tells me he knows exactly what just happened, but mercifully, he lets it slide.
Instead, he throws another glance toward the game. “You know, I'm not really sure.”
I laugh, but he continues, shaking his head. “That’s why there’s so much yelling, they’re trying to decide who’s actually winning.”
I open my mouth to respond, to say literally anything, but no words come out. Oh my God. Surely, he’s going to assume I'm drunk. Which, honestly? He wouldn’t even be wrong.
I try again, determined to salvage what’s left of my dignity, but before I can embarrass myself any further, I’m saved by the bell.
And by bell, I mean Rachel.
She appears out of nowhere, grabbing my arm without so much as a pause, and announces, “Hi, I’m Rachel. I’m so glad you met my friend. She’s sworn off men so don’t waste your time, but this is our song, so if you’ll excuse us…”
And just like that, I’m being dragged away.
I barely manage to throw him an apologetic look over my shoulder, but all I get in return is that damn smirk.
“Raven, come on! This is our song!”
I stumble after her, laughing. Only Rachel could bulldoze through a conversation like that and make it look effortless.
“You would say that! But to be clear, it wasn’t a rescue mission!” I protest, failing miserably at sounding convincing. “I wasn’t even swooning over the accent…”
I pause, then snort. “Okay, maybe a little. But he was really hot!”
Rachel lifts an eyebrow, her grin stretching wider. “Exactly. And you were gone for too long. Our song is on, so, priorities.”
She starts swaying effortlessly to the beat while her hips roll with the kind of ease that makes me wonder if she was an exotic dancer in her past life. Or maybe in her current one, and I just don’t know about it.
“We can always go talk to them after,” she adds, throwing me a mischievous look. “Or better yet, maybe we should challenge them to a game of darts. Show them how it’s really done.”
I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “Rachel, we don’t even know how to play darts.”
“Minor detail.” She waves me off like I’m the ridiculous one.
The song ends, and for a brief second, the bar stills. Conversations hum and the low buzz of laughter and movement fills the space between beats.
I’m still catching my breath when Rachel grabs my arm again, already dragging me toward the bar.
“We need more drinks. You’re way too sober for this time of night!” She declares, cutting through the crowd with me behind her. I stumble after her, laughing, because honestly, at this point, resistance is futile.
I think I’m doing pretty well after only the few drinks I’ve had. Then again… maybe I should just get it all out of my system now. One epic crash course in bad decisions, and if I end up sick, I’ll never want to touch alcohol again. I think that's some pretty sound logic.
I stop at the table while she bounces off to the bar, weaving through the crowd like she owns the place.
A few minutes later, she appears with a grin plastered across her face. She's got drinks in one hand, and another round of shots in the other.
Uh-oh.
I narrow my eyes. That look never means anything good. “Alright, what is that?”
She practically vibrates with excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning. “Nothing too fancy, just some vodka with cranberry juice and a lemon drop shot. So basically, it’s healthy. You’re welcome.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Healthy, huh?”
She plops the drinks down triumphantly. “Oh, and bonus? They were already paid for.”
I blink. “Wait, what?”
She winks. “Apparently the dart dudes picked up the tab.”
Lovely. Now they’re buying us drinks.
Maybe we should go over there. Be social. Say thanks. Who knows? We might even have fun.
I’m in no way a dart expert, but the guy I was talking to earlier seemed nice enough… and, let’s be honest, this gives me a chance to get a closer look at the Brooding God over there.
Then, when I go home tonight, at least I’ll have a very attractive face to think about as I fall asleep alone. Small victories.
Decision made. I grab Rachel’s arm, and this time I’m the one dragging her toward the dart game.
“That's my girl!”