Page 36 of Click of Fate

“Shit. I’m guessing, by the mood you’re in, things didn’t go well?”

I take a gulp of my beer. “Honestly, they went great. Until it didn’t. We danced. Then I asked her to come over.”

“She turned ya down, didn’t she?”

I grunt.

“She said she needs causal. Nothing lasting. Told me she doesn’t stick around. Then she said that whatever might be between us is more than casual.”

“She isn’t wrong. You don’t do casual, man. Never have. You need to be careful. And if she’s the type to run, it was the right move on her part. You’ve got that look in your eye again.”

I stare down at my bottle, watching the condensation drip down the side. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m too far in already.

She’s like a glitch in my system. I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s the only person who’s ever walked away and made me want to chase after her.

“I’m not sure if I’m being careful… or if I’m already in too deep.”

Alex shrugs. “Either way, sounds like you’re screwed.”

I don’t say anything to that. I know he’s not being a dick, but I’m really conflicted.

“Maybe it’s for the best” Alex says. “You know. That she walked away. That tells you everything you need to know.”

I want to believe that. Ishouldbelieve that. But I keep replaying the way she looked at me on that dance floor. Like she was two seconds from staying. Like maybe she wanted to.

I don’t do maybes. And I don’t chase people who aren’t willing to stay.

I try my damnedest to pull myself out of the funk I’m in and enjoy another beer with Alex. He tells me about some shit going on with Wade and his girlfriend—who are back in Chicago.

I’m contemplating having a third beer or calling it a night.

Alex has his back to the bar, surveying the late-night crowd. For a Saturday night, it’s packed, but it’s not rowdy. The Trading Post usuals know the rules. They enjoy the low-key vibe of this place, so rough and rowdy nights aren’t usually a thing.

“Well, just remember, keep your head on straight, Luke,” Alex says. “I’m gonna head back to my office and wrap up some paperwork,” he says, catching me off guard.

“Paper work at one in the morning?” I question.

“Yeah. It is what it is.” He shrugs, setting his empty bottle on the bar and exiting stage right.

I shake my head. I’m so fucking confused by what just happened when I notice someone standing nearby in my peripherals. I turn my head slightly and finally understand the context Alex didn’t give me.

Standing there, hesitant, as if she’s asking herself if she’s really doing this, stands Stella. She’s dressed down from earlier, her hair loose, and her eyes guarded but sparkling. She finds my gaze and gives me a small smile.

Within only a few seconds, she closes the space between us and stands at my side. I twist toward her, trying to hide my shock.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” I tell her cooly.

“I didn’t think you would either.” She lifts a shoulder. Then she climbs onto the stool that Alex vacated. She orders something easy, and I watch her carefully.

“So why you here, Trouble?”

There’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, a tight pull at the corner of her mouth that tells me she’s bracing for something. Maybe rejection, regret, even her own reaction to what she’s about to say.

“I got home and wasn’t ready to call it a night. The music is good here, and the beer doesn’t suck.” She’s deflecting, but I’m not going to let this go.

“Uh, huh. Right,” I say.

She bristles at my mocking reply. “Look. I didn’t come here for you.” She sighs. “At least I told myself I wasn’t, anyway.” She pauses, clearly searching for the right words. Her eyes dart away for half a second before meeting mine again—like she regrets being that honest, but refuses to take it back.

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