Pen Pal(13)

“Whiskey will help. For a while, anyway.”

I peek through my fingers. The glass of Jonnie Walker Blue sits on the table in front of me. To my left, Aidan gazes down at me with hooded eyes.

I whisper, “Thank you,” and lift the glass, draining it in one go.

Aidan grunts. I don’t know if it’s in approval or disapproval, and I don’t fucking care either way.

He catches the bartender’s eye, lifts two fingers, and motions for another round. Hipster boy nods, acknowledging him.

We don’t speak again until our drinks have been delivered and the bartender has gone on his way.

Aidan says in a low voice, “He hurting you? Smacking you around?”

I know who he means by “he,” and I almost laugh at that. Michael was the least aggressive person on the planet. He couldn’t even watch a boxing match because the violence would upset him so much.

“No.”

Aidan’s silence seems doubtful.

I know I don’t owe this guy any explanation, but he’s being kind to me, and he’s obviously concerned, so I reluctantly tell him a half truth.

“He…left me.”

“You’re separated?”

That’s one way of putting it. “Yes.”

He takes a long draw of his beer, then swallows and sets the glass down. “Never married, myself. Can’t see the point to it.”

“You’d see the point if you’d ever been in love.”

“You say that like you think I haven’t.”

“Have you?”

He takes another swig of beer. Licking his lips, he gazes at me.

“No.”

“Then you don’t know what you’re missing.”

His gaze grows penetrating. “Yeah, it looks like all kinds of fun.”

That stings. I break eye contact and sip from the new glass of whiskey. “It’s worth it. No matter how bad it can get, no matter if it all falls apart in the end, it’s worth every minute.”

“Even when you wind up crying in a bar next to a stranger?”

“Yes. And I’m not crying. And technically, you’re not a stranger.”

He huffs out a breath through his nose that might be a laugh. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

He throws his head back and drains the rest of his beer. I drink more of my whiskey and fiddle with my wedding band, twisting it around my ring finger with my thumb. Aidan notices.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“It would be great if you didn’t.”

Ignoring that, he says, “Do you find me attractive?”

My breath catches. My heartbeat takes off at a gallop. I set the glass down on the table and say carefully, “I’m married.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“Aidan—”

“Because I think you’re beautiful. Sad, a little bitchy, but fucking beautiful. I want you to come home with me tonight.”

Floored, I gape at him. “What?”

He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t respond. He simply stares right into my eyes and waits.

I rip my gaze away from his and fix it on the framed copy of Dogs Playing Poker while I struggle to get my breathing under control. “I don’t sleep with strangers.”

“You just said I wasn’t a stranger.”

“Fine. I don’t sleep with recent acquaintances, either.”

“Look at me.”

“I’d rather not.”

He takes my chin in his hand and turns my head so I’m staring into his eyes.

“Do you find me attractive?”

My body erupts into flames. I swallow nervously, then say, “No.”

“Right. Let’s try that again. And this time, be honest with me. Do you find me attractive?”

I pull my lower lip between my teeth and chew on it. His gaze drops to my mouth, then moves back up to my eyes.

Keeping his hand on my chin, he says gruffly, “That’s what I thought. So come home with me. Let me make love to you. You need it.”

I pull away and cover my eyes with a hand. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Nobody’s ever told you they wanted to fuck you before?”

My face is so hot, it feels sunburned. My ears, too. “I should get going.”

“Don’t run away.”

“That’s usually what people do when they’re scared.”

“You’re not scared of me. You’re just surprised. They’re two different things.”

“How would you know if I’m scared or not? You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough.”

I choke out an astonished laugh. “Goddamn, you’re really sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Look at me, Kayla.”

“I can’t. I might melt into a flaming puddle of embarrassment.”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed that you want to fuck me.”

“Oh, my God! Will you listen to yourself?”

He pulls my hand from my face and doesn’t let go of it. He cups his other hand around my cheek and gently turns my head toward him.

When I’m looking at him, he says, “You said you were a good BS spotter. So tell me if you think this is BS. I want you. You want me, too. You’re sad. I want to make you feel better, even if that only means for tonight. You’re not afraid of me. You know I won’t hurt you. You’re just a little fucked up right now, you’re not used to people saying exactly what they mean, and you’re not sure how to handle it.”