Page 9 of Uncharted Desires
Hot, sure, but still—douchey.
His eyes are now fixed on some action playing out behind him as he walks forward, and I bark out laughing when he bumps into a bar stool a few feet to my left.
He grabs the edge of the bar and straightens himself. Our eyes meet then, and he runs his palms across the front of his shirt like his life depended on looking spotless.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and he gives me an up nod.
I lift myself from the bar and cross my arms over my chest. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Uptight.”
If he’s offended, he doesn’t show it, making his way to the stool directly in front of me and taking a seat. “How’s it go—”
“What are you doing here?” I don’t mean to sound as snappy as I do, but oh well. He’s invading my space, not the other way around.
Blake's brow furrows. “Excuse me? I have a right to be here. It’s not like you own this place.”
“Oh, yeah?” I lean one elbow over the bar top. “So you didn’t use my name to get in?”
He says nothing, just stares at me intently, expression still taut, and I can’t tell if he did or didn’t. It’s not like he can’t afford it. Perks of being a trust fund kid.
The silence stretches for longer than comfortable, so I ask, “Drink?” I’m not exactly dying to serve him, but hey. That’s life.
He nods. “Vodka tonic would be nice.”
I scoff. Even his drink is pompous. Figures. I take my sweet time mixing him his drink, making sure to leisurely walk over to Jesse for a quick chit-chat before I stroll back to Blake and slide the glass in front of him.
He reaches to grab it, and before I release it, I say, “That’ll be forty.”
He blinks at me once before lifting his ass from the stool, removing his wallet from his back pocket, fishing out a hundred and sliding it toward me. “Keep the change.”
My jaw clenches as I stare him down. Jesus fuck, how I wish I could just tell him where to shove it. Unfortunately, I’m in no poison to turn down tips, so I muster an openly fake smile. “Thanks.”
He opens his mouth to say something else, but I’ve had enough of him already, and something tells me he’s going to be a giant pain in the ass for the rest of the night, so I turn on my heel and walk away before he can utter a word.
I walk up to serve some other customers despite them being in Jesse’s section. He quirks a questioning eyebrow, andI mouth, “I got this,” in his direction. He gives me a thumbs up and disappears in the back to take his break.
Once Jesse returns twenty minutes later, I can no longer justify hanging around on his side of the bar and, reluctantly, I make my way over to mine.
Blake’s eyes are fixed on me, just like they have been this whole time. I can physically feel the hole he’s burned in my skull. He hasn’t touched his douchey drink.
“Alright,” I bang my palms against the bar once I’m in front of him, causing him to jump in his seat. “Why are youreallyhere?”
He looks up at me from under his thick eyebrows and blinks a few times. “Honestly? I’m not sure.” He lifts his glass and brings it to his mouth, puts it down without drinking, and sighs. “To watch, I guess.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Watch me, that is?”
He lets out a scoff, which I’m not sure is genuine. “No. God, you’re full of yourself.”
I can’t help but smirk. “Whatever floats your boat, golden boy.” He takes a sharp inhale, but I’m faster. “Why don’t you go watch, then?”
He drops his gaze, and even in the dim lighting, I can see his cheeks turn pink. “I’m going,” he says to the floor.
His eyes dart to me for a split second before he gives a quick nod, more to himself than to me, it seems, before he rises to his feet, turns around and strolls in the direction of one of the hallways, disappearing behind the brass door, his untouched drink still full and forgotten.
What a strange guy.
Content with having him out of my hair, I get back to work.
It’s a slow night and there’s no line, so I busy myself organizing liquor bottles on the led-lit shelves, wiping glasses that don’t need wiping, and cleaning the bar top that doesn’t need cleaning.
