Page 3 of Can't Stop Watching
LILA
Ilook up as the guy approaches, and holy shit. If "don't fuck with me" had a poster boy, this dude would be it. He's all hard edges and barely contained intensity, like a grenade with the pin halfway out.
"Another whiskey," he says. "And maybe your story, if you're selling."
Yeah, right. Because I'm just dying to spill my guts to some random at the bar. I give him a quick once-over, trying not to be obvious about it. Objectively speaking, he's hot in that dangerous, probably-has-a-motorcycle-and-daddy-issues kind of way. But there's something else there, something that makes my spine tingle in a not entirely unpleasant way.
I grab a bottle of whiskey and a clean glass, buying myself a second to think. He's gotta be, what, early-thirties? Thirty-two? Thirty-three? About seven or eight years older than me. Yep, dangerous.
"Whiskey, coming right up," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "As for the story, I'm fresh out. Left it in my other apron."
He chuckles, a low rumble that does funny things to my insides.
"Fair enough," he says, a pair of steel-gray eyes never leaving mine. "How about a name, then?"
I pour his drink, sliding it across the bar. "Lila. And before you ask, no, it's not short for anything."
"Dane," he offers in return. "And no, it's not short for Daniel."
I can't help but smirk at that. "Well, Dane-not-Daniel, anything else I can get you? Besides my life story, of course."
He takes a sip of his whiskey, considering me over the rim of his glass. "How about you tell me what happened to Joey? He's usually the one doling out sage advice and overpriced booze."
I tense up slightly, hoping he doesn't notice. This man makes me nervous. "He went home early. I'm just filling in."
"Just filling in? Not permanent then?"
I shrug, trying to keep it casual. "Who knows? Maybe I'll stick around, maybe I'll vanish into the night. Keeps things exciting, you know?"
Dane's eyes narrow slightly, like he's trying to read between the lines. Great. A perceptive one. Just what I need.
"Right," he says, taking another sip. "Because nothing says 'excitement' like wiping down sticky bar tops and dealing with drunk idiots."
I snort before I can stop myself. "Hey, don't knock it. You'd be surprised how thrilling it can be to watch frat boys try to open beer bottles with their teeth."
He cracks a smile at that, and I feel a little flutter in my chest. Dammit, Lila. Men like this are outside your bin diagram. Stick to what you know. I've been dating NYU students since my freshman year. Now that I'm in graduate school, I need to stick to the plan. But there's something about Dane that makes my carefully constructed world feel suddenly small and suffocating.
I catch myself fidgeting with my ear cuff, a nervous habit I thought I'd kicked. His eyes follow the movement, and I drop my hand, feeling exposed. It's like he can see right through me, past the careful facade I've built. I've spent years perfecting the art of blending in, of being unremarkable, but under his gaze, I feel seen in a way that's both terrifying and exhilarating.
The NYU guys I usually date are safe, predictable. They're the devil I know, all skinny jeans and carefully curated playlists. But Dane? He's a whole different league… a league I don't dare mess with. Not again.
Besides the age difference, there's an edge to him, something raw and real that makes my skin prickle with awareness. It's like comparing a match to a wildfire—both can burn you, but only one has the power to consume everything in its path.
I shake my head, trying to clear these crazy thoughts. Focus, Lila. You're here to make money, not daydream about mysterious strangers with eyes that seem to hold entire universes. But even as I turn away to serve another customer, I can feel the weight of his gaze on my back, like a physical touch.
And despite every instinct screaming at me to keep my distance, a part of me—a part I thought I'd buried long ago—wants to turn around and meet that gaze head-on. Against my better judgement, I do.
"So, Dane-not-Daniel," I say, leaning on the bar. "You a regular here?"
He nods. "You could say that. It's a good place to... think."
"Ah, one of those brooding, mysterious types," I tease. "Let me guess, you sit in the corner, nursing your whiskey, and contemplate the weight of the world?"
His eyebrows shoot up. "Ouch. Am I that transparent?"
I laugh, surprised by how easy it feels. "Nah, you're not the only one who can read people. It's kind of a requirement in myfield." The words slip out before I can stop them, and I mentally kick myself. Way to go, Lila. So much for keeping your guard up.
Dane's eyebrows quirk up, curiosity sparking in those storm-gray eyes. "Your field? And what might that be?"
