Page 13 of Show Me How to Heal
Zayne smiled at me, showing off his white yet slightly crooked teeth. “Zayne,” he said, extending his hand. I shook it, letting the dry warmth of his skin seep into me. “Nice to meet you”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
I finally managed to flag the bartender down, ordered the drinks for my companions — and asked if one of the waiters could deliver them to our booth — before ordering a beer for myself and turning towards Zayne. “Can I buy you a drink?”
That was a flirty line, right?
Zayne’s cheeks flushed a little, and he hesitated for a brief second, but then he nodded. “Yes, please. Is it okay if I order a cocktail?”
“One of your fancy-ass drinks again?” the bartender teased Zayne. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way Zayne winced and his cheeks flushed even darker. He was embarrassed by the question.
“Actually, I think I’ll take one of those fancy-ass drinks, too,” I said coolly. “What do you recommend?”
Zayne raised his brows. “Let’s order a Tequila Sunrise because that’s basically the only cocktail Chris can prepare without having to google it first. And if he has to google how to make your drink, I’m not a hundred percent certain you won’t get spit as an ingredient.”
Chris — because that was apparently the bartender’s name — snorted, grinned at me, and winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t actually spit in your drink, even if you force me to make something ridiculous.”
Chris started preparing our drinks while Zayne eyed me, his head cocked.
“You don’t look familiar… are you new in town?”
Small towns. I started realizing how much I stood out here. Everyone knew I was the new guy in town. I’d always thought my accent would make it obvious I was new, but I didn’t even have to open my mouth.
However, the people were friendly about it, honestly curious about where I was from.
“Yeah. I moved here a couple of days ago,” I said with a smile.
Smiling still felt so fucking foreign, but I wanted to smile at Zayne, wanted to see his lips curled upwards. He didn’t have plush lips, on the contrary, they were rather small, but they fit his face, complementing his big, wide eyes; the pointy, straight nose; razor-sharp cheekbones; and his pointy chin.
“Cool. Do you like it here?” Zayne asked, leaning forward to be able to hear me better. Or was it curiosity that’d made him lean in? Frankly, I didn’t care because I got another whiff of him and… fuck, he smelled really good.
“I…” I started but paused. I needed a minute to focus on the question — not on his scent — and translate my answer in my head. Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered another alcoholic beverage. “So far, I like it, but I haven’t seen that much yet.” I took a deep breath and nodded towards my crutches, still leaning against the wooden bar. If he didn’t like me being dependent on them, it was better to find out now.
“Oh.” Zayne’s eyes widened. “Are you injured? What happened?”
“It’s an… older injury,” I explained. “Last year I got hurt on the job and busted my knee. They had to perform multiple surgeries to try to get as much mobility back as possible.”
Zayne audibly sucked in a breath, biting his lip. “That sounds painful.”
“It is.” I scrunched up my nose. “Especially since I needed to have surgery again a month ago to reduce the scar tissue. The doctors said I might gain almost all the mobility back if it worked, but… yeah, for now, I need them.”
Zayne nodded. “That sucks, man. You got a new job in town? Or… did you keep your old job?”
Mist.I should have anticipated a question like that.
“No. I had a very… physically demanding job.” Not a lie. “And since it was obvious from the beginning that I’d never be able to work that job again, I was fired.” Kinda. I’dretired. But it’d basically been the club telling me I wouldn’t play again and that we needed to create a united front for the press. I’d gotten a nice severance package out of everything, of course.
“And now?” Zayne asked again.
“Now I’m…” A multi-millionaire that only wanted to live his life in peace without constantly being harassed by the paparazzi. “…unemployed.”
“Fuck.” Zayne shook his head. “That’s awful.”
How the fuck had I managed to go from buying him a drink to telling him all about my depressing life story within five minutes?
We should be flirting, not having serious discussions about my health.
“It is what it is,” I said with a shrug. “Let’s talk about something happier… your shop!”
