Page 37 of Thorns That Bloom
“You’re really good, Theo!” a young blonde from engineering tells me as I pass her, her eyes sparkling with interest. I flash her a brief smile. All I want is to get back to my table and decompress. Preferably with some alcohol.
Ben and the others are somehow even drunker than they were two minutes ago. Gordon’s whistling at me. Blake and Enrique are cackling about something together, their faces all red from the lack of oxygen.
“Look at you, Mr. Romantic!” Ben teases me.
I glare at him. When I finally sit, I grab his unfinished beer and chug it. “Hey!” He tries to take it from me, but I move away, nearly letting the liquid shoot out through my nostrils as I snort, and manage to get it all before he can stop me. “Motherf—” Ben mutters to himself, half serious, half amused.
“I deserved that, you bastard. You know I don’t like feelinglike some trained monkey,” I say quietly, still aware of the attention on me. Singing’s my hobby. My passion. It doesn’t exactly mix with work. And I hate people asking me to sing something as soon as they find out it’s something I like to do.
Not to mention it probably looked like I was showing off, considering my skill was on a bit of a different level compared to the drunk non-singers.
Ben groans, leaning onto me. The way he looks at me is apologetic, but he doesn’t say anything. At least not until he rests his chin on my shoulder. “Come on, you were good. Everyone was impressed.Eeeeveryone,” he says, wagging his brows at me like he’s clearly not-so-inconspicuously hinting at something. “You could’ve gotten on your knee and proposed, ya know? He probably would’ve accepted.” Ben blurts out laughing while I shoot him a frown and shake him off. Other amused chuckles echo around me. He’s not the only one who finds it funny, apparently.
“Keep your voice down,” I growl, slowly losing my patience with him. “Stop being stupid. And no more drinking.”
I nervously glance in Sam’s direction. I hope he didn’t hear any of Ben’s mumbling. His eyes are already waiting for me. Now, his gaze is even more thoughtful, but…colder, in a way.
Swallowing the burning discomfort in my throat, I snap my head to stare at the table. From that moment on, I promise myself not to test my luck anymore. I go to the bar and order a beer.
And then two more as the evening goes on…
People gradually begin to leave, mostly because of how drunk they’re getting. Mickey and a few of the old guardcomplain about it being past their bedtime. After they go, the party isn’t much of a party anymore. More like a bunch of drunken adults sitting in smaller groups and pouring their hearts out in a way they will most certainly regret when they get back to the office. If they even remember tonight.
The buzz inside the restaurant becomes too much after a while, so I move outside. There’s a small back garden that’s deserted and clearly not used very often, which is perfect. Feeling the burning in my cheeks and the slight dullness of my emotions from the few more beers I had, I stare blankly into the night.
Ah. I shouldn’t be drinking. It always gets me down.
When I hear the click of the door, I don’t even turn. I know it can’t be Ben, since he’s pretty much passed out on the table, waiting for his wife to pick him up.
The sweet scent of blackcurrant and sage hits my nose, and for a moment, I think I’m just losing my damn mind, until I glance to the side and see Sam.
He’s really here.Fuck.
I blink and straighten up like someone stuck a pole up my ass. It’s actually him in the flesh, and I can’t believe it. Has he come out to speak to me? It’s only him, with his jacket on, hands in his pockets, and as he awkwardly steps next to me and sits, I feel like I might pass out from excitement.
At least until I properly see his face and realize that his expression is not a good one. No, it’s the sort of soft, careful expression with a tinge of worry you make before giving someone bad news.
“Hey!” I have to blink again to make sure I’m not dreaming.
He smiles faintly, politely if anything. “Hi,” he says, voice low. He sits at the other end of the bench, and I wish he hadn’t. I wish our shoulders could touch. “You’re a pretty good singer.”
A stupid grin flashes over my face. I have to look away to hide it. I probably look like some giddy idiot. “Thanks. It’s something I like to do, so…yeah.”
Sam hums in agreement, and I wait for him to say something else, but a thick silence falls between us instead.
“Look,” he finally starts, sounding even more serious, and my heart drops all the way to my stomach, “I’m touched by your…interest. Really, I am.”
I tighten my grip on the nearly empty glass of beer. I want to meet those pretty eyes, but I can’t bear it. “Is it that obvious?” I whisper, letting out an uneasy chuckle. He shifts next to me before sighing.
“Do you really think we have that? This ‘fated mates’ thing?”
A jolt goes through me. I look at Sam sharply, and his somber brown eyes fixate on me. “How did you…?”
“People talk, Theo.” Something about the faint smirk on his lips makes me even more nervous. “And if it’s that obvious tothem, then…well, we should probably sort this out.”
Holding the glass in my lap, I lower my gaze, subconsciously studying Sam’s hand as it sits tucked under his belly. I think he’s nervous, too, and yet he sounds so responsible and mature talking about this. Dread sinks into my stomach like a heavy, cold stone. I know what this little chat means. I know what he’s trying to say and what he thinks.
Goddammit. I feel like I’m gonna throw up.
