Page 6 of Scattered Glitter

He’s impossibly tall, like a hot lighthouse cutting through a sea of people. His height has this way of making the crowd part around him, as if they instinctively know not to block the view of something that good. His light gray eyes are hidden behind that curtain of hair, and my fingers itch to push it aside to see them properly.

His eyes are something else—a shade of gray that’s almost silver—and I’m convinced they’re the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Well, second-most beautiful.

Nothing beats the ice-blue eyes that flash through my mind.

Abort, abort!

“Jack and Coke,” I yell before Hottie even has a chance to greet us, cutting off whatever smartass remark he’s about to make.

He smirks, already reaching for the bottle. “Going wild tonight, Sparkle?” he asks, using the nickname I pretend not to like.

He knows my drink order better than the other bartenders who work here. Though, that’s not saying much.

“We’re celebrating my last night as a stripper!” Annabelle announces with a squeal.

I shoot her a glare, but it’s half-hearted at best. She’s just too damn happy for me to be mad, even if I don’t like her giving out details about us.

“Congrats.” Hottie’s smirk softens into something more genuine. “Guess we won’t be seeing you around here as much.”

She beams at him. “Not as much, no. I’ll still come by sometimes to dance for fun.”

“Fun, huh?” he teases as his gaze flicks to me. “And you, Sparkle?Sticking around?” His eyes lock onto mine as he finishes pouring my Jack and Coke, setting it in front of me with a smooth flick of his wrist. His gaze shifts to Annabelle, eyebrow raised in that teasing way he does so well. “Vodka cranberry?”

Annabelle nods, her blue wig bouncing with the motion.

“Nope, I’m not quitting. Blondie here has found her Romeo,” I share, taking a sip of my drink and letting the burn of the whiskey soothe something deep in my chest.

He snorts, his back to us as he mixes Annabelle’s drink. “Romeo and Juliet aren’t a romance, so maybe choose another metaphor.” He shrugs, placing the vodka cranberry in front of her.

“Because they die in the end?”

Wouldn’t have thought that a guy like that has some brains behind his pretty exterior.

“Not really a happy ending.” My heart twinges painfully at his words.

There can be romances without happy endings. I know that all too well. I never got my happy ending.

But the fucking romance was real.

He studies me for a moment. “You’re not the type to believe in happy endings, are you?”

I snort, reaching for my drink. “Happy endings are for fairy tales. And kids.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they’re just for people who don’t stop looking for them.” His voice is too quiet, too sincere, and I don’t like how it makes something inside me twist.

“Spoken like someone who hasn’t been burned enough.”

God, I need another drink already.

I down the rest of my Jack and Coke in one go, setting the empty glass back on the bar with a little more force thannecessary. Hottie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and I grin at the reaction.

“Another one, please, but make it strong this time, okay?”

“That one was pretty strong,” he argues, but he’s already reaching for the Jack again, pouring a more generous amount over the ice, topping it off with a splash of Coke. He slides it over to me with a look that’s half-impressed, half-amused.

“Thank you,” I say gleefully, taking a sip. The warmth of the whiskey spreads through me again, and I feel the tension easing from my shoulders.

Annabelle has already turned around to scan the crowd with that bright-eyed excitement she always has when we go out. Since I’m not planning to find any company tonight, I take the opportunity to talk a little more to Hottie.

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