Sociopath's Obsession(10)

Since my whole attention was on the heaven in my hands, I wasn't watching where I was going. I bumped into someone else, which resulted in splashing my delightful drink onto someone.

Oh, hell!

The man was wearing white sneakers and blue jeans that seemed a size too big for him. Somehow, I found those two details exceptionally odd in a club setting.

My eyes traveled from his white shirt covered in a pink stain to the man's face. He was wearing huge glasses with frames that covered half of his forehead, eyes, and nose, so it was impossible for me to see his features clearly. His brown hair was in a messy bun on the back of his head, and his jacket, which was a size too big, covered his wide shoulders.

Overall, the man wasn't anything special or spectacular to look at.

That was before the club light flashed on his face and I had a clear view of him. Wait…was it? How the hell could he look so different? And why would he wear those clothes in the first place?

“I’m so sorry,” I quickly mumbled and tried to dry his shirt with my napkin, but somehow made it worse while he stood there shocked. “That’s probably not what you imagined when you allowed me to enter your club.”

He frowned, and then raised his eyes in confusion. “Have we met?” Freak. I could feel that stupid blush heating up my cheeks again. Of course, he wouldn't remember meeting me. He probably had girls throwing themselves at him all the freaking time, and my words were putting him into an uncomfortable position.

“Yeah…well, kind of yeah…outside just now? When you allowed me to walk in?” Finally, recognition filled his eyes. It was safer to mention the recent meeting. Our night together in my father’s study probably meant nothing to him and he forgot all about it. The connection and lust that ran through us back then must have been the act of my imagination.

Stupid, so stupid.

That connection was one of the reasons I hadn’t been with anyone. It felt like cheating on him. How ironic was it that the man in question didn't even remember me or my name?

“You met my brother.”

“Brother?” It was my turn to be confused. What did he mean by brother?

“My twin, he’s the owner.”

Instant relief washed over me at the thought that the mysterious stranger didn't forget about me, and then it was replaced with many questions. Well, at least his appearance answered one of them. This dude looked more like some geek kid compared to his brother, and he didn't have the aura of confidence that attracted me in the first place. “Oh, sorry, I didn't know that.”

His mouth lifted in a half grimace. “Not many people do.” Then he laughed nervously. “Although, one glance at me makes them question what’s wrong.” He adjusted his frames more firmly, and part of me felt sorry for him. It probably wasn't easy to be, well, the less attractive brother. He took out a napkin from his pocket and tried to do damage control too, and it snapped me out of my thoughts. I ruined his shirt, and he wasn't even pointing that out.

“I’m so sorry once again! I wasn't watching where I was going. The shirt is probably ruined.” After a year of doing laundry for myself, I became almost an expert in such things. He shook his head.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t that great a shirt anyway.” It was hard not to agree with him. “You, on the other hand, lost your drink.” Yeah, it was a delicious drink, and now it was all over his shirt and the floor. I was surprised no one was paying attention to us.

“Looks like I will have to buy that drink after all.” Those two sips weren't satisfying for me, and I still wasn’t even close to being drunk enough to master the courage to sleep with someone.

“You got that drink free?”

“Yep, the bartender told me it was on the house.”

Something flashed through his eyes, but it went so quickly, I couldn't catch it.

“Did he now?” he asked, and then smiled. “Let me buy you a drink then. Are you here with someone?”

Was this guy for real? He didn't owe me anything, yet here he wanted to make it all better.

“You really don’t have to buy me anything.”

A blush covered his neck and he nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry. You probably have better things to do than hang around with me. Have fun.”

This made me feel like a freaking bad person, really. Wasn't he essentially the same as me?

An outsider among people who fit into this place? How many times had people passed an opportunity to be with him, or just invited him because of his brother? He never said those things, and I hadn't known him long enough, but it was obvious the dude lived in the perfect shadow. I could relate, really. I placed my hand on his elbow, and a spark of something filled my body and put it on high alert. He froze, but didn't take his eyes away from mine, gazing into them.