Page 62 of Call You Mine

Damon wants me just as badly as I want him. He’s so close to breaking and giving me what I want, and I'm willing to force him to take the last step if need be.

“I’ve been waiting for you to make the next move Damon, yet you’re the one who refuses to play. What are you afraid of?” I ask, not bothering to open my eyes and look up at him. I couldn’t take it if he were to refuse me yet again. Though my pride wouldn’t let me give up if he did.

To my disappointment, yet to no surprise, as fast as his touch came it fades, the weight of his body against mine disappearing as his footsteps once again scuffle against the concrete as he walks away from me, leaving me alone and so incredibly frustrated.

After my failedattempt at seduction on Damon earlier today by the pool, I decided against meeting Willa for lunch, unable to fathom the current frustration and despair building up inside me. She could smell the desperation on me like some sick dog and would immediately know something was wrong. The last thing I need is for her to suspect there is trouble in paradise with Damon and I, and right now, I don’t think I’m doing such a good job of hiding what I’m feeling.

Not that standing here behind the bar as I’ve poured drink after drink to our patrons for the last two hours hides what I’m feeling. If anything, it’s like I’m wearing a giant neon sign over my head that says“Help, my boyfriend refuses to fuck me”. I’m the bartender, the one who’s supposed to provide unsolicitedadvice to my customers, not the other way around. Yet here I am, completely unsure what else to do.

I’ve tried everything outside of sneaking into his bedroom in the middle of the night, handcuffing him to his bedpost, yanking his pants off—not that he probably wears any clothes to sleep—and straddling his cock. Although it doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, I’m pretty sure it qualifies as assault regardless of the fact he’d surely enjoy himself.

“Earth to Wynter,” Jade calls out, waving her hands in front of my face. I snap out of my thoughts, my vision focusing on her. Her mouth quirks up in a suspicious smirk as she raises a brow in question.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, having missed the totally of whatever she asked me.

Jade’s smile widens, her bright aquamarine eyes full of curiosity. She’s dressed similar to me, a pair of high-waisted jeans that highlight our naturally plump and perky asses and a cropped white t-shirt with the name and logo of The Silver Wolf.

Yet unlike my hair, which falls in soft waves over my shoulders and down my back, hers is slicked back into a high ponytail that highlights the perfect bone structure of her face. The woman is model perfection.

“I said, are you ready for a break? You’ve been at it nonstop for the last two hours, and by the looks of it, you could use a smoke break.”

I tilt my head slightly, not comprehending what she means. “But I don’t smoke.”

“No shit, Princess, it’s just an expression.” Without further explanation, Jade turns her body toward the bottles of liquor lined up on the bar shelf in front of me and pours two shots of tequila, handing me one and keeping one for herself. “Slainte,” she says as she throws it back and urges me to do the same.

I reluctantly take it, instantly regretting drinking on the job but if it’s my boss who is technically the one who has poured me a shot, I really can’t say no, right?

“I’m really not tired, Jade. Just have a lot on my mind is all,” I say, and immediately regret it when the curiosity in her eyes brims with mischief.

Once again grabbing the bottle, she pours us a refill and motions for Jeremy, the other bartender working tonight, to take over for me. Jade leads me toward the end of the bar counter, away from the live band playing in the corner, and steps around the bar, taking a seat on one stool on the other side. I remain standing behind the bar, not really comfortable with whatever conversation we’re about to have, and instead take the shot in my hand to ease the tension that’s creeping up my neck.

Jade watches me tentatively, careful about what she is to say next. “Alright then, then tell me what’s up? Something between you and Drake?” she asks, and it really throws me off.

Not that in recent weeks Jade and I have formed a tight-knit friendship like the ones she keeps with Scarlett and Stella, or like the ones I once had with Carrington and the girls, but we’ve gotten to know each other some more and both realized the biases we had about one another were the farthest from the truth. I judged her because of where she came from and who her sister was. Just like I had with Scar, I deemed Jade a gold digger who got pregnant in order to trap Bass into staying with her, but all of that was just what I let myself believe.

I’m no saint, never was and I don’t see myself ever truly changing my DNA. They raised me to believe belittling others was okay. To think I was not only more privileged than those who went to my school but to let them know I was at the top of the food chain, in a position in the hierarchy of our world they could never reach because it was my birthright.

Yet now that I’ve been forced to see things in a different light, now that I’m relying on the same people I outcast because I met monsters worse than I ever was or could ever be, I’m trying to do better and erase the mistakes of my past.

Jade clears her throat when minutes go by and I remain silent. I’m eager to tell her, to share even a bit of the desperation I feel because the man I’m pretty sure I’m in love with, refuses to even look my way. But if I go there, then I’d have to tell her why, and that would open a can of worms I’m not ready to deal with, not to mention it would shed light on our farce and I don’t think I can handle that on top of everything else.

“Nothing like that, actually,” I say, though we are interrupted when the devil herself walks into the bar. I swear that’s the butt of some joke.

Willa struts over to where Jade and I are, her stiletto heels like sharp daggers, clicking on the hardwood floor as she walks. The crimson red dress she has on, this one very different to the usual shades of white and beige she wears, is so tight it fits her like a second skin.

It fits since a snake is supposed to shed their skin now and then.

“You know when I had you followed, this was honestly the last place I thought you would ever step foot into.” You can hear the disgust in her voice as she slides her fingers over the bar counter and acts like she’s collected a layer of dust. Her eyes rake over my frame in disappointment. “A bar Wynter, really? Is this some Coyote Ugly fantasy of yours you want to play out? Are you going to get up on the tabletops and put on a show with this one,” Willa sneers as she looks back and forth between Jade and I.

I’m ready to tell her off and send her straight back out the way she came in but Jade beats me to the punch. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jade shouts, standing up abruptly.

My mother, of course, ignores her and settles into the bar stool proceeding to order a drink like she hasn’t just insulted the two of us in one blow. “I’ll have a dirty martini, extra dry, three olives, pitted not stuffed, but with a splash of brine of the stuffed olives.”

“You’re joking right?” Jade mocks, clearly and rightfully pissed the fuck off.

Pulling Jade off to the side, I get started on my mother’s drink, not missing the way her eyes roam around the room in disgust. The Silver Wolf is a prestigious establishment, luxury at its finest here in Hillcrest hills, but apparently it’s not to the standard of Willa Servite.

Which doesn't really mean much given the way my mother has been begging for scraps lately.

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