Chapter Three
Ari
Friction
The Gin Room is toohot tonight.And it’s not just the broken thermostat.
I blame him.
Malichai’s presence lingers like cigarette smoke—thick, stubborn, and clinging to everything.My skin hums like static beneath my uniform, and no amount of wiping down the bar or distracting conversation is dulling the heat crawling up my spine.
I’m not stupid.I’ve worked here long enough to know the difference between regular lust and whatever this is.This thing growing inside me that sets my nerves on fire every time he’s near.This thing that makes my skin ache like it’s waiting for someone else’s hands.
His hands.Big, rough and scarred.
Goddess, what the fuck is wrong with me?
“Someone’s flustered,” Celeste, the only human bartender at The Gin Room, teases, leaning beside me behind the bar as she tosses napkins into their dispenser.Her blonde hair is pinned in two space buns, and she grins like she knows too much.
I shoot her a glare.“It’s just hot.”
She snorts.“Right.Definitely nothing to do with the 6’5” nightmare in Armani who only flirts with one person in this entire place.”
“He flirts with everyone,” I mutter.
“Not like he does with you,” she counters.
I don’t respond because she’s not wrong.And that’s the problem.
Malichai Veythronn doesn’t flirt like a man trying to get laid.He flirts like a man waiting for you to remember something you’ve forgotten.Like he knows a secret I haven’t caught onto yet.Like he’s been playing the long game, and I’m just now realizing I was the prize.
It’s maddening.
Even worse, I’m starting to feel something.I don’t know what it is, but lately, when he touches me, even just a brush of his hand, my body reacts like it’s been lit on fire from the inside.And not just in the good way.It’s like my soul’s being yanked forward, like it’s trying to leap out of my chest to get to him.
And tonight, it’s worse.
Tonight, the weight of his gaze on me feels like a brand.
****
Ishould’ve said nowhen he offered to walk me home.But I didn’t.Because I’m a fucking idiot.