Page 21 of Waiting for Acceptance
“More than you know.” She slams the folder she was holding into my chest and I watch in horror as she leaves with him. A burning rage builds inside me and I can’t quite figure out what it’s directed at most.
The fact that she thinks I’m an entitled, elitist asshole.
The fact that she thinks I’ve been lying to her—which I guess I have been, sort of.
Or the fact that she has a boyfriend.
Fuck this whole day.
I’ve never quite enjoyed going to bars alone. But seeing as how I’m lacking in friends here, and the one person IthoughtI was making headway with actually hates me with a fiery passion, being alone seems to be my only option. The Lucky Bastard Saloon is the closest bar I could find where the music playing inside didn’t make me want to get a lobotomy on site, so that’s where I’m currently drowning my rage in the most expensive scotch they had on the shelves.
If everyone is going to end up thinking I’m an elitist asshole, I might as well really own it.
I hate my father. I hate everything this company stands for and I hate that I have no way out of taking it over in a year. I hate that Lauren had to find out that way and Ireallyhate the sadness I heard in her voice today accompanying the anger. The same sadness I’ve not been able to get off repeat in my mind since she left my office today.
I don’t want to be here. I should be at home, trying to figure out how I’m going to get her to listen to me so I can set the record straight. Well, I know how to get her to listen to me, I’ll trap her against a door again if I have to—I quite enjoyed that method the first time—but getting her to listen isn’t going to be the problem. Getting her tobelieve mewill be.
I rub my eyes beneath my glasses, which I put on halfway through the day when my contacts dried out, and drop enough cash on the counter to cover my tab, plus a hefty tip for the bartender before standing to leave. I make my way through theverydrunk people stomping their boots against the floor just as my little troublemaker is walking through the door.
Fuck her for being so damn alluring all the time. She could spit on me—which I genuinely wouldn’t put past her—and I’d probably say thank you.
Something is seriously wrong with me.
Maybe if I keep my head down I can make it out of here without running into her, and inevitably doing something stupid.
Someone starts singing along to the Teddy Swims song playing behind me and they manage to back into me while shaking their hips, promptly cutting them off. “Don’t love anyone, anyone, anyone but yourse–Oh! I’m so sor—”I huff when she hits my chest, causing me to look up—though I immediately wish I hadn’t. She gives me a split second assessment, fixating on my glasses before her features turn stone cold.
“I’m so sorry your prescription doesn’t seem to be working.” Not in the mood for her attitude tonight, I stoop to play her little verbal sparring game.
“Maybe you’re the one who needs glasses, then you’d be able to see how many of your clients are falling into my lap.” I see a fire light in her eyes and I suddenly feel exhilarated enough to remind her exactly who she’s dealing with.
“Who’s the friend, Lauren?” The same motherfucker from earlier slides up to her side and that ungodly feeling settles in my chest again that makes me want to throw a barstool at him.
“Friend is a stretch. We just happen to work in the same office,unfortunately.” Something familiar crosses his face that leaves me curious—though, not for long.
“Oh, is this Lucifer?” Even in the low light of this bar, I can see her cheeks redden.
No chance in hell—pun intended—I’ll let her live that one down.
Then another guy, not quite as bulky but still not lacking in muscle, also covered in ink, shows up at her other side. The two of them share similar features so I could assume they’re brothers, though I am most curious about why they’re both standing so damn close to Lauren.
“It’sLuther.We played Topgolf together once—” He tilts his head, looking a little more closely at me. “Didn’t we?” His question is directed at me and I’m wondering if he seriously just mistook me for the Luther I work with who could not look more unlike me.
“Um, no. We did not.” His lips turn down in confusion then he brushes it off like he could care less who I am. Then I turn back to face a very blushed Lauren. The two guys surprisingly disappear from her sides, giving me a chance to step closer to her. “Lucifer, really?” She rolls her eyes, lifting a brow as she shrugs as if she’s completely unphased.
I hate when she seems unbothered by me. I’d rather her feel rage, hate, lust, oranythingelse in place of indifference. I lean in to speak directly in her ear—I wouldn’t quite call it a whisper since the music in here is loud enough it could make your teeth rattle, but nonetheless, she’s the only one who can hear me.
“Tell me, Trouble. How did it feel, dancing with the Devil?” I glance down at her, touching her for the first time since that night when I wrap my hand around her neck and caress her cheek with my thumb. I’m looking for any hint of realization on her face, but when she narrows her eyes at me I wink at her and walk out.
Maybe another time.
CHAPTER 12
LAUREN
What the fuck was that?
The electricity that sped through my entire body when his hand wrapped around my neck took me by surprise, even more so than what he said to me. I turn back to my friends, hoping that the rest of the night will wash the memory of Fitz out of my brain. Maybe if I get drunk enough I’ll be able to forget who he is completely and I’ll be able to go to work tomorrow and not daydream the entire time about slamming his head in the industrial copy machine.
