“You help out, Clara. It’s not like you’re an inconvenience in any way,” he says, shrugging. “Plus, I like having you here.”
Over the last two weeks, Tag and I have gotten closer. We spend pretty much all our time together, or with Bella. And then we see each other at work. He’s become the main focus of my life in such a short time. He hasn’t brought any women home, and I don’t know what I’d do if he did. I liked him, a hell of a lot. I’ve seen him staring at me, his eyes lingering, but he’s never done anything about it. He’s never made a move. And I am too shy to make the first move. What if he doesn’t want me? I guess he doesn’t, because Tag is the type of man that isn’t shy with women. According to Summer, he is kind of a man-whore. I’ve seen women approach him at the bar, but he always tells them he isn’t interested. I don’t know what to think.
“Fine, I’m just going to pay for all the groceries then,” I say, pouting.
“Come and sit down woman,” he says, tapping the seat next to him.
I sit down. He offers me some of his beer, so I take a sip. When he slides his arm around the back of the couch, I go still. “I’m taking you out tomorrow night.”
“You are? How about asking me instead of telling me?” I say, pursing my lips and arching an eyebrow.
“If I ask you, you won’t come. You’re a homebody. A hermit. A—”
“Yeah, I get the picture,” I cut him off, speaking in a dry tone.
He casually wraps his arm around me and grins boyishly. “You’ll have fun, and you deserve a night out. You’ve been working your ass off.”
I am a hard worker in general, but I really wanted everyone to see that I was worth taking a risk on. I don’t want to let anyone down.
“Where are we going?” I ask, turning to look at his handsome face. I find his brown eyes already on me.
“It’s a surprise,” he says quietly, gaze dropping to my lips.
Feeling a little self-conscious, I look away until his hand cups my cheek and turns my head back to him. “Why do you have to be so beautiful?”
“Wh-what?” I stutter, now trapped in his gaze.
Did he want to kiss me? I wanted him to. I swipe my tongue along my lower lip.
His eyes darken.
Having no idea where my boldness was coming from, I lean forward, wanting a taste of him.
“Fuck,” he grits out, pulling back slightly and looks me straight in the eye. “Clara, you know we’re friends, right?”
I nod, not liking where this was going.
“If you and I… if we… fuck. I don’t want to ruin anything, you know?” he says, rubbing his head and looking frustrated. “I’m not good with commitment, and you don’t seem like a one-time girl.”
I wasn’t, but for him…
Could I be?
Tag pulls away, removing his arm and putting more than just a physical distance between us. When he stands up, I sigh in regret.
“Night,” he murmurs, leaving the room without a backwards glance.
Well, I got the message loud and clear with his rejection.
We were friends, and friends only.
*****
The next day at work, the place is packed out. I started working night shifts with Tag because it was easier to go in when he did. I hated him having to make unnecessary trips just for me. I told him I had no problem catching a bus, but of course, he wouldn’t have that. Things between us have been slightly strained since last night, although he’s still been his usual, sweet self. I don’t think anyone looking in from the outside could notice the change, but it’s there. I can feel it. It’s in the slight hesitation before he touched my arm this morning, and the way he looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t. I wish I never tried to kiss him. I’ve decided I’m going to pretend last night never happened and act normal, in hopes we can move away from it. I allow myself to take a glance at him at the bar, serving a group of women. He laughs and is his charming self, which usually amuses me, but now annoys the hell out of me. It’s only a matter of time until he brings a woman home. I need to move out, like now. I think if I save money for a couple more weeks, I’ll have enough. I might even just rent a room out in a shared house; it would be much cheaper and less pressure on me.
I clear one of the tables, wiping it down and picking up two glasses. “Hello gorgeous.”
I look up and to my left at the man approaching me.
“Hello,” I say, my tone friendly, but professional.
When I turn to leave, he gently grips my upper arm. “Dance with me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m working and not available, but I’m sure you can find someone else.”