Page 8 of Uncharted Desires
Sawyer stuffs his hands into his pockets and takes half a step forward, not nearly close enough, before leaning in and half-whispering into my ear. “Feel free to come back if you ever figure your shit out.”
I physically feel myself go white.
I stare at him, dumbfounded, for two seconds before launching forward and pushing him away with both my hands.
And then I run.
Through the rooms, through the crowd, through my feelings, the doors on my way suddenly no longer heavy.
Cold breeze hits my face as soon as I’m outside. I may bump into the bouncer as I run past him. I can’t be sure.
I run all the way home. There’s honking around me, some people shouting as I shoulder them on my way. But I don’t see them.
All I want to do is run. Away from that place, away from Sawyer, away from what happened. And as my heart races and it’s becoming harder to breathe, I chant a silent prayer, wishing that maybe, maybe, if I run fast enough, far enough, long enough, I can outrun the memory of today and somehow erase it. Undo it and forget it ever happened.
Forgethim.
Chapter Two
Sawyer
I SIGH WITH relief once I close the staff’s bathroom door behind me.
The fabric of my underwear sticks to my skin as I make my way to the sink, where I grab a paper towel, unzip my pants and wipe the mess from inside my boxers.
Yep. That happened.
I don’t know what it was. Maybe the thrill of being watched. Maybe watching other people. Or maybe something else entirely, because it sure as fuck wasn’t Blake freaking Jacobs that made me come in my pants like a teenager, untouched.
Fortunately, I don’t think he noticed—he already thinks he’s better than anyone else. The last thing I’d want is to give him additional reason to gloat.
Not that I expect to see him in here ever again—I’m pretty sure I’ve made my point.
*
“You’re late,” Jesse calls out through the still-empty club once I show up for my shift at six PM sharp a week later.
“Wouldn’t you like that?” I pat him on the shoulder once I make my way over and we start our daily routine of stocking the liquor shelves, polishing the glasses and preparing the place for yet another night of unbashful shenanigans that begin as soon as first patrons spill inside at seven.
Not only did Blake not show up in the club again—I haven’t seen him at all lately. We hadn’t had any classes together this week, but he hadn’t stepped foot in his usual places around the campus. Knowing him, he’s avoiding me.
Now, if I were as full of myself as he is, I’d assume it has something to do with our impromptu encounter, but I’m sure it’s unrelated. I was tempted to ask Xander, our mutual—to Blake’s dismay, I’m sure—friend about it, but then I remembered—I don’t really give a fuck.
The club is a vibrant, sex-filled mass by nine, and after the initial wave of thirsty customers is all well and served, I lean over the bar top and slip into my usual routine of watching the crowd.
After a full year of working here, nothing shocks me anymore. Not a single person will ever walk through the door and surprise me. It takes me about half a second to establish who’s here to watch, who’s here to have fun, and who’s here because they were dragged by their partner against their will in a last-ditched effort to save what’s most likely a relationship on life support.
That never works, yet I’m always amused when people try.
A female-male-female trio walks in. By the blissed-out expression on the guy’s face, the intense gaze of the lady walkingin front of him, and the tense, low-key pissed-off look of the one clutching onto his arm, it’s obvious who’s third wheeling tonight.
A familiar crown on black curly hair flashes in the corner of my eye, and before I can zero in, on no other than Blake making his way toward the bar, I can already feel my decent mood evaporate.
So much for an easy, blissfully uneventful shift.
He’s yet to notice me, his eyes darting between the other patrons like it’s the first time he’s seeing the human species and I can’t help but smirk.
He’s sporting a light pink polo shirt and a pair of gray slacks, looking as douchey as ever.
