“Why?” Her accent comes in so thick, I bask in its glory a moment. There’s not a thing I miss about my ex, but there’s something disarming about hearing every word come from Cassidy’s lips. “Say it to my face. I dare you.” There’s a fire in her eyes, a rage brewing that suggests she might break my glass and slit my throat with it.
“Because you finished two drinks, and I don’t know if this is the liquor talking or you.” I’m not sure if that’s what she was expecting to hear, but I do know what she’s been struggling to hide from the moment I sat down. What she doesn’t realize is that I’ve seen it. Not tonight, a few weeks back. She was here at the Black Bear, and for a brief moment walked past me like a dream. I knew then I had to meet her. She turned back to retrieve her sweater off a chair, and that’s when I saw it, the matrix of a scar that’s left a permanent imprint on the landscape of her sweet, sweet face. I’ll admit, it made me pause. Usually, I would have pinned her down like a butterfly, plied her with drinks, and begged her to fuck me, but seeing that brutality woven into her flesh gutted me on a primal level. It made me see her as a person, not a plaything—made me curious, furious at what might have happened—and my imagination has run away with what might have happened. I’ve been stalking the bar ever since, hoping I’d see her again, and here she is, proposing the very thing I would have applauded her for just a few weeks back.
“Well, aren’t you the gentleman?” Her eyes glow a strange shade of sapphire, and it takes a moment for me to put together the fact that glow is a direct effect from tears forming. “What are you? Some kind of superhero? Saving drunk vaginas on a desperate Friday night?” She tosses back her hair and laughs as if honing in on her resolve. “That’s okay, hon. I’ve never met a cock blocker I didn’t like.” She rises, and, for a second, I accept the fact she might land a drink in my face. I’ve been doused with a drink or two before, but never was it for turning down a proposal. Come to think of it, I’ve never turned down a proposal.
Cassidy snatches up her purse and whisks by me in a blur.
“Wait!” I follow her out the door and into the iced night where our breath leads the way with long, spastic plumes. The wind picks up as a boil of black clouds press over Hollow Brook. A storm is due this weekend, and it looks as if it’s coming early. “I like where you were headed back there.”
“Home?” she scoffs, clearly annoyed. Her brows knot up for a moment as she stares me down, and it takes everything in me not to drift my gaze to her left cheek and inspect her injury up close the way I want to. “Because home is where I’m going.” She pulls her enormous black coat over her shoulders like a shield and strides forward.
“Home sounds good,” I say, keeping up with her. “I’ll walk with you if you don’t mind.”
“Maybe I do mind.” She tosses an annoyed look my way as we step off the curb and head across the street to Whitney Briggs. “Listen, hon”—she bats her lashes with the tears glistening like fallen stars, and my heart breaks that I might have sponsored them—“don’t for a minute think you need to hold my hand. I promise you, I’m fine. I don’t have a hurt feeling in my body. Now, feel free to head back to the bar and get that itch in your boxers scratched the right way.”
“What?” My entire body racks with shame. There’s no way in hell I’m letting this sweet, beautiful girl think this is some easy, pathetic letdown. “My boxers and I are happy where we are. The only thing I wanted at that bar just walked out of it.”
She pivots a moment, pausing with a laugh caught in that garnet smile. The light hits her just right, and Cassidy glows like an angel.
The door to the Hallowed Grounds coffee shop opens and closes, wafting out its hypnotic roasted bean scent.
“Listen—” she rakes her fingers through her thick blonde mane, tempting me to do the same. I’ve always been a sucker for a blonde, and Cassidy has out stunned them all by a mile. “I’m headed in to grab a cup a joe. If I’m going to be up all night with my new man”—she swings her purse between us—“I need to get my energy up. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like—for the coffee—what Battery Boy and I do in private is entirely our beeswax.” She turns a coy shoulder up at me before ditching inside. I follow her in and pay for our drinks before she can whip out her wallet.
We take a seat in the back, and she positions herself in the dark corner, leaving her face lost in the shadows. Something tells me Cassidy knows all the tricks to hiding her anomaly as best she can. Back at the bar, she made it a point to keep her head turned just enough throughout our entire conversation. There’s something about her struggle to hide her beautiful face that I find tragically endearing. I’d tell her I don’t mind, but I don’t think we’re there yet. If I have anything to do about it, we’ll get there and then some.
“So tell me about you, city boy.” She gives a playful wink while taking a careful sip of her latte. “What keeps you up at night, other than luring barflies to your bedroom?”