“Lidia,” I said, never tearing my gaze away from those emerald pools. “I think your customers need you.”
Lidia huffed, murmuring her irritation under her breath, as she hopped off the stool. I didn’t care. She could’ve called me every name in the book, and I still wouldn’t have turned away from the contact I currently possessed.
“Kami,” I breathed, stepping in closer. She angled her body towards me, her t-shirt clad nipples just barely brushing against my chest.
“Where’d you go, roadrunner? I thought you were done running,” I whispered. I lifted a hand and slipped a tendril of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her skin. I needed to touch her. In that moment, it had become as necessary to me as air.
“I’m not,” she stammered, her voice unsure. “I mean, I am.”
I smiled pensively at Kami, stepping in to close the distance between us. I wasn’t going to ask her why she hadn’t returned any of my messages. I wasn’t even going to question her distant behavior towards me. Questions would have sent her running again. I had her now, and I wasn’t ready to let go.
But the Kami that I knew, the Kami that was warm and soft and as sweet as candy wasn’t in front of me. Whoever this beautiful stranger was knew nothing of dancing in a field as lightning bugs swirled around her bare legs. The sound of her laughter didn’t make heat spread deep in my chest like lava. I had never tasted her lips while warm summer rain slid down our bodies.
No. This girl wasn’t my Kami.
“Blaine,” she began, the wavering uncertainty gone from her voice. The sound was harsh and foreign, and something inside me sunk into my gut. “We had fun; I’ll admit. But that’s all it was. We’re coworkers. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Then she pulled her hands from mine, turned, and never looked back to see my stunned expression.
The next day brought a fresh blanket of bullshit when she came in for her shift with the same cold demeanor. But I was over it. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to pretend like there wasn’t shit between us. Fine. I’d play along. If that was what she needed, I’d give her just that. I wasn’t going to keep chasing a chick that obviously didn’t want to be caught.
We went hours without speaking, other than the occasional “excuse me” as we worked to avoid contact. Kami nearly sighed with relief when CJ came in after work, plopping down in his usual seat at the bar. She was so desperate to ignore me that she was actually happy for the distraction that my imbecile cousin brought. Un-fucking-believable.
“She still not speaking to you?” he asked, once Kami was out of earshot.
I shrugged. I wasn’t in the mood to humor him. If I answered, he would press for more, which would result in me itching to press my fist into his face. I didn’t understand it. How the hell could I? Kami had gone from scorching hot in my lap to as cold and awkward as a wet blanket. It was confusing and infuriating as fuck.
By the time Angel and her band made it in for Dive’s first Open Mic Night, I was long overdue for a break. I needed a cigarette. Badly. I hadn’t felt that craving since the first time Kami came barreling through the parking lot and into my life. She replaced the intense need from that day on. But with her purposely shutting me out, the taste for nicotine was clouding every sense and thought.
“Hi, Blaine!” a chorus of feminine voices greeted me when I returned to the bar. AngelDust had joined CJ at his usual spot at the bar and were chatting about the evening’s events. I noticed Kami shift uneasily on her feet when she realized I was back.
I nodded and gave them a half-smirk before turning to a customer for an order. I was done being the nice guy. Chicks swore up and down that they wanted a good man, but when there was one right in front of them, they went for the douchebags and players instead. Maybe Kami was better off hooking up with Lidia’s friend. Maybe she was into the suit-and-tie types. That wasn’t me and never would be, no matter how badly I wanted to be her choice.
The staff kept their distance from me for most of the night. Even CJ directed his crude jokes and stories to Dom when he arrived just as the first act took to the stage. My head ached at the sound of amateur singers and musicians butchering perfectly good songs. Normally, I would have been more forgiving, maybe even shot CJ an amused look as I stifled my laughter at some of the really bad performances. But, as it was, I just didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted them all to shut the hell up, drink their beer, and get the fuck out so I could take my pathetic ass home.
By the time a young guy took the stage, I was two seconds from saying, “Fuck it” and bumming a smoke from a customer. He began strumming his guitar, bypassing AngelDust’s accompaniment, and I instantly picked up the tune. It was an older John Mayer song, speaking about the love between a father and daughter. His voice curled around the words as he sang of the girl who had been damaged due a broken relationship with her dad, too hurt and impaired to let anyone love her. It was a bit melodramatic for my tastes, but I liked it, and found the tension in my shoulders loosening a fraction with every profound note.