Page 36 of Devotion

No missed calls

No missed texts.

Layla: So…?

I place my phone back inside my clutch after hittingsendon the admittedly passive aggressive message. Then, I pay for my drink as I settle against the edge of a stool. I’m not afraid or uncomfortable being on my own, and I’m no stranger to drinking at bars alone, but I’d definitely choose to do so someplace a bit more lowkey than this. Meaning, I’m out of my element, and being with Martinez and his friends was supposed to make that a bit less obvious, but they’d have to actuallybehere for that to work.

“This seat taken?”

I spin toward the sound of a deep voice, meeting the gaze of a tall blond guy standing a bit closer than I’m comfortable with. Judging by the tie loosely knotted around his neck, and the dress shirt rolled to his elbows, I’m guessing he’s just left work and looking to blow off a little steam.

I glance toward the seat in question and can’t think of a response that wouldn’t make me sound like a bitch, so I concede.

“No, it’s open,” I answer, and he doesn’t hesitate to fill the space beside me.

In my peripheral vision, I catch him staring. First, at my legs. Then eventually, at my breasts.

“So, are you… alone?” he asks, and I shoot him a hard side-eye.

I see you, sir, waving your red flags early.

I get it, a guy needs to double-check that he isn’t infringing on someone else’s territory, but he should maybe choose his words more carefully. Asking if I’m alone just sounds like he’s trying to see how much work it’ll be to drag me to his lair to dismember me.

“I’m with friends,” I lie, but his casual nod means he bought it.

I take a sip and peek at my phone to see just how late Martinez is now. Twenty-five minutes and counting.

Nice.

“Place looks pretty cool, don’t you think?” The guy leans in a bit, so I’m able to hear him over the music. “My grandmother actually used to be an attendant here back in the day.”

I raise my brow, pretending to be interested. “You don’t say.”

“Yeah, she said there’s real gold in the paint of the crown molding. Makes it seem like a waste that the guy who owns the place covered the ceilings.”

“I guess, but like you said, it looks pretty cool.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” he says with an earnest head shake, and I’m already over this conversation.

Another body lowers into the seat on the other side of me, but I don’t dare make eye contact for fear of getting myself roped into yet another riveting conversation.

“I’m John, by the way.”

“I’m Layla, by the way,” I shoot back, and he laughs.

He lays off for a bit while I sip again, but the moment my glass lowers to the bar top…

“So, you’re here with friends, huh?”

I nod, growing increasingly frustrated with Martinez’s irresponsible ass for leaving me here like a fucking sitting duck.

“Yup. They’re on the dancefloor somewhere.” I cast a searching gaze across the crowd as if I’m actually looking for someone.

“It’s cool. I’ll keep you company until they get back.”

Awesome.

He orders a drink despite looking like he might’ve already had a few too many, and I fill the gap in unwanted conversation by sending Martinez another text.

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