Page 28 of Iris
The look he gives me is like the sun coming out. It melts me down.
Which is crazy. I don’t even know him. I can’t be losing it over some hot man.
“Your name is Icy?” he asks.
“I-Iris,” I say.
He doesn’t introduce himself. “Come in. I’ll get you a drink.”
What I should say is no. What I should do is make excuses and race off, back to the Upper Side.
“That,” I say instead, “would be lovely.”
His gaze moves slowly over me, and there’s nothing safe about it. I’m struck by the notion that he can see into me, see how he’s making my heart throb, my inner thighs tense, and I shiver, like a whisper of air’s blown gently against my skin.
When I swallow, he smiles. It’s beguiling, seductive, and, of their own accord, my feet move when he does, making me follow him around that corner and down the street, just off the main road.
The Black Briar is at once non-descript and something compelling. I don’t know how else to explain it. The name is in smooth black brushed-steel letters on the wall. Not big, just there if you notice it. And the building, all two stories, is painted a sleek black. There’s a glass window that takes up a part of the wall, but it’s frosted so the outside can’t see in.
I want to go in automatically because I’ve never in my pathetic life been inside such a grown-up establishment. Especially alone.
Quinn is gonnafreakwhen I tell her about this.
My brother’s gonna bury me alive if he ever finds out.
I’ll just make sure that doesn’t happen.
We step inside. I expect gloom, messy floors, and sloppy drunk patrons, but it’s none of those things. I blink at the low, soft glow of the lights that add warmth to the place. Everything inside is made of dark polished wood and rustic metals. At the far end is a massive bar that takes up most of the back wall, and behind it, a mirrored wall and shelves upon shelves of liquor.
Very masculine, very understated, very cool.
The man sets Emmie down, and she runs up, hugs my legs, and holds her hands up. I give her Delores. “Thank you for watching me and Delores, Icy. I love you.”
My chest warms. I never thought I’d miss my sister being young, but Emmie brings back those fond family memories I’ve long pushed to the back of my mind.
She careens off across the floor and out a back door.
“Should I card you or ask what your poison is?” the man asks as he walks to the back of the bar.
I’m about to say starshine, but he beats me to it.
“Don’t say starshine. Be creative.”
“Poison that won’t kill me.” Taking one of the stools in front of the counter, I try and think of something, but I don’t drink that much. What does Heath drink? “Scotch.”
I try and sound confident but fall short.
He raises a brow and that soft, well-shaped mouth turns up in a smile at one corner. “Scotch?”
“Yes.” I don’t even know if he drinks that. Maybe it’s whiskey. Or…something… “I love Scotch.”
He pours some and hands it to me. I breathe it in and almost choke.
It smells disgusting.
Boiled leather. Smoke. It’s gross. But I take a big swallow and cough, half spitting it back out.
The man’s there, laughing like a monster and patting my back. He takes the drink and presses water into my hand instead. I know it’s water because I smell nothing at all, just coolness against my hand, and I drink it down.
