Page 14 of Because of Me

Specifically, her laugh. It’s sweet like sugary icing and full of sharp notes like the crispest red wine. And it flows through the large restaurant with ease. The lunch rush has mostly died down, so it’s easy to spot her. Seated at the bar with her hair tied in a high ponytail. Her black jeans contrast with her vibrant hot pink shirt, and even with my view of just the side of her face, I can see the way she smiles into her wine glass. She flutters her eyelids across the bar, lowering her laugh into something closer to a breathy giggle.

A waitress stands opposite her, drying a wine glass. Her long hair is pulled into a braid hanging over her shoulder and she wears bright red lipstick that adds a pop of colour to the otherwise all black uniform we all wear. Kylie, her name might have been. I don’t like being the kind of boss who doesn’t know everyone’s names, but we’ve grown so busy recently that we have ten new waitresses and another handful of event staff. And I’ve never been any good at remembering names. They’ll stick eventually.

Regardless, if she keeps batting her eyelids at Amira, she might not make it through her probation period. Fire courses my veins at the thought. It’s jealousy, mixed with self-loathing. I never pictured myself as the jealous kind, but there’s something about seeing Amira here, in my winery, flirting. With someone who isn’tme. It’s wrong. It’s painful. I don’t like it. Even though I’m in no place to tell her not to. Regardless of how I feel, Amira has every right to own her sexuality. To bat her eyelids and flirt and smile andbe.

My shoulders curl as I stalk over to the bar. Seeing me, Kylie—I confirm her name with a hopefully subtle glance at her name tag—jumps. She drops the wineglass onto the tray, winks at Amira and saunters off. I don’t miss the way she sashays her hips as she heads along the bar. I track the movement in Amira’s eyes as she watches.

“I was enjoying that conversation,” she drawls as she spins on the bar stool to face me.

Her deep brown eyes reflect golden sparkles from the chandelier above our heads and for a moment, I get lost in them. No wonder Kylie was flirting back. “Sorry, Cupcake.”

“You should be. It was bad enough hanging off your arm all night at the wedding, you’re interrupting my attempt to pick up now, too? It’s rude.”

I lean one hip against the bar and cross my arms. The position presses my muscles against the tight band where I’ve rolled up my sleeves, and I’d relax into a more comfortable position but Amira’s eyes dart down to my stance. She pulls her lips into her mouth as she rakes her gaze over me. I think,think,she’s checking me out. But … that wouldn’t make any sense.

Nevertheless, her physical reaction to my above-average but far from impressive physique tugs at the ounce of hope I’ve been trying—and failing—to shove way down low. It floats to the surface, lodging itself in my throat, and no matter how many times I try to swallow it back it finds a place behind my Adam’s Apple.

Amira’s mouth falls open slightly. Her near-empty wine glass dangles in her fingertips.

“You good?” I ask.

In lieu of answering, Amira hums, her gaze still locked on my forearms. And I could stand here and appreciate how goddamn fuckable her mouth looks with her plump lips and rosy lipstick, I could tense my biceps or run my thumb along her chin and catch her gaze with my own. I could step closer, I want to step closer. I could let myself believe her dazed state is because of me, not because she was just flirting with the woman behind the bar. But even though she was more than a little drunk when the admission slipped out, I can’t forget what she told me.It wasn’t a phase.

I click my fingers in front of her face.

She recoils a little. Her mouth snaps shut and she blinks rapidly before clearing her throat. “Sorry,” she rushes out. “Cassidy needed flowers and then Kylie asked if I wanted a drink and then she was … and you are …”

Her cheeks brighten with a blush that matches her shirt, so much so my hand twitches towards her. I want to run my fingers along her cheeks and feel their warmth. I want to know if her bright blush creeps under her shirt.

Fuck. So much for getting over her. My fingers tense against my arms as I force myself to hold them in place.

“You’re cute when you blush, Cupcake.”

Amira hides her face in her hands but gives up quickly to finish the rest of her wine. She downs the half a glass in one swift gulp. “I’m not blushing.”

“You are. Your cheeks are the same colour as your shirt.” I risk reaching my hand towards her and toy with the collar of her shirt. “It’s cute.”

“I’m never wearing this top again,” Amira groans. “You’ve ruined it for me.”

“Don’t, it looks good.” I pull my arm back and shove my hands into my pockets.

In response, Amira rolls her eyes and turns back to the bar. She lifts a hand to catch Kylie’s attention and tilts her head when the waitress walks over. Kylie pours a fresh glass of wine, keeping one eye on me as she places it in front of Amira.

“That’s just—”

“On the house,” I finish for her. “I’ll have one too, please.”

Kylie nods, pouring my drink. Shifting her gaze to Amira, she smiles meekly before turning back to the other end of the bar.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Amira rests her elbows on the bar and drops her head against one of her hands. She takes a long sip of her wine while I swirl my own in its glass.

“She has a boyfriend,” Amira muses. “She accidentally let it slip right before you came over. But she was definitely flirting with me. And now I’m like, I have to stop, right? I can’t be that person.”

“Oh. Well yeah, you should stop. Even if she was flirting with you, there’s a boundary there you should respect. Even if she doesn’t.”

Amira nods and pulls her wine glass up to her lips. Her sip is precise, nothing like the long gulps she took earlier. “Once Cassidy asked me why she attracted all the crazies. I made up some nice story to comfort my friend, but some days it feels like I get them too. I trick myself into thinking I don’t want an actual relationship because it would be so hard to please my parents anyway so why not be their eternal disappointment. But like, some days I feel like it would be nice to find my person, you know?”

Placing my wine down, I move next to Amira and wrap my arm around her shoulders. She feels tiny in my embrace, and she nuzzles against my collarbone. The sweet smell of her conditioner draws me closer until my cheek is resting on the top of her head. Amira’s breath catches in her throat, tiny hiccups as she lets her emotions out as quietly as she can.

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