Page 3 of Sunflower Persona
“This one is on me. Happy belated birthday, Kori.”
The drink he places on the bar is bright yellow, and the rim is adorned with an array of fruit slices. It even has one of those tiny paper umbrellas stuck in the side of a strawberry.
The unexpected gesture causes a swell of emotion to rise and lodge itself in my throat. Hot pins prickle behind my eyes as tears pool there.
I’m being ridiculous. There is no reason for me to get this worked up over something so small. He probably does things like this all the time, but outside of my parents, Danger is the only person to wish me a happy birthday, even if it’s a couple weeks late.
“Thank you…” Not knowing his name is something I need to rectify. I can’t keep calling him “Danger” after he went and did something so sweet.
Conflict crosses his features before he finally answers with a curt “Gage.”
It suits him. There is no way a man like that could be named something basic like Johnathan or Tim.
“Thank you, Gage. I’m Kori.” I reach across the bar to shake his hand.
He watches it for a few seconds like it might bite him before wiping his palm on his jeans and wrapping his massive hand around mine. Rough calluses rub against my fingers, leaving a tingling sensation even after he pulls away.
“I know.”
Another customer calls out, stealing his attention before I can say anything else, and I’m left alone once again. At least this time I have a drink to keep me company. A mix of sweet, fruity flavors bursts across my taste buds as I take my first sip of the cold liquid. If this is what all alcohol tastes like, I understand why people drink.
No one else holds my interest after the encounter with the bartender. Everyone is so cheerful, and loud, andyoung. I mean, I’m young too, but they feel more like a species than my peers. The only person I have any desire to chat with is Gage, scowls and all. But he’s working, and hanging around would make me a nuisance. There’s something about him that resonates deep within me—whatever it is that gives him those empty eyes.
Ice rattles in my empty glass as I push it around with my straw. Sure, I could order another, but I don’t think this is my scene. I’ll look to see if the university has a gaming club. Maybe my luck will be better there.
“Can I buy you another?” a baritone voice asks as I push away from the bar.
The man it belongs to couldn’t be more different from the one occupying my thoughts. He exudes an aura of charismatic self-confidence, garnering looks from other women as he moves closer to me with an easy smile on his lips. If I hadn’t met Gage a short while ago, I’d likely be entranced by his charm as well, but the sandy-blond locks and frat-bro aesthetic aren’t doing anything for me now.
“No, thank you. I think I’m actually going to head out.”
I place my glass on the counter and shove a few dollars in the tip jar before I brave the streets again. They are busier now than they were before I went into the bar, but knowing I only have to bear it for a few minutes lessens the torture.
Rambunctious shouts echo down the hall as I make it back to my room. Looks like whatever trouble my dormmates are getting up to has only intensified in the few hours I was gone. Their noises don’t bother me—it’s not like they’re banging on my walls or anything.
After wiping away the city’s grime in the shower, I change into my pajamas and cocoon myself in my favorite lemon-colored fleece blankets. The only light in the room shines from my laptop screen, where an old creature feature from the ’80s plays. Normally, my focus would be glued to the screen, but tonight, my mind keeps drifting back to the stoic man at the bar. I should have talked to him again. Knowing I might never get that chance leaves a dull ache in my chest.
It’s in the fates’ hands now. But I swear, if they give me the opportunity, I won’t waste it again.
Chapter 2
Gage
“Man, you should have seen this chick.”
My friend’s drunken commentary is no more than a buzzing in my ears. Luck would have it that the rest of our crew couldn’t come out tonight, leaving Nathan to hit the town on his own. Of course, for him, “hitting the town” means pestering me because I don’t charge him for his drinks and I listen when he rambles about women and heartache. We still have a few drinks to go before he hits that second stage.
“She had legs for days and an ass so juicy it makes you want to take a bite out of it. Her rack left something to be desired, tho—”
With my quick slap to the back of his head, his hat goes flying, taking the rest of that thought with it.
Even I have my limits.
“Knock it off. I know you’re an asshole, but this is a lot, even for you.”
“Sorry, I was only trying to paint an accurate picture for you. You have a field ripe for the picking here. If I were you, I’d be going home with someone new every night.”
He fetches his hat off the floor and slips it on with the bill facing back. Paired with the half-buttoned trop top and board shorts, the look screams “I’m a douchebag,” but at least I don’t have to look at the stupid fish on the front of it anymore.
