Brutally Beautiful(44)

“A smile?” I whispered.

“That’s not on the menu, is it?” Calm. Cool. Emotionless.

“Fuck.” I took a pull from my brandy, letting the flavor smoothly fill my mouth and burn its fire down my throat. It didn’t quench my thirst though. I wanted a taste of the woman standing before me. I laughed and looked down, shaking my head. I cleared my throat, “So being friends is an impossibility? You’d be missing out.”

“Yep. I guess I will just have to live with never knowing how great a friend you could be. It’ll be difficult, I’m sure. But, with years of therapy and psychoanalysis, I bet I’ll be able to overcome the heartbreak of not getting to know you.” Her eyes never left mine. Curt, yet nice and emotionless. She just completely handed me my own order of sublime indifference and I could have buried myself in it. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you,” I said, and watched her walk away, smiling at the other customers and going on with her life, with not one ounce of effect from me.

All that night, I watched her work the floor, mesmerized. She never let anyone touch her; it was as if she would melt away right before their hands went to touch her. No one touched her but Bree. Always keeping a distance from everyone like she was more comfortable with being alone than with other people. She smiled politely and answered when asked questions, but there was something missing. It was as if she was missing. Every time my glass was empty, she would bring over another one, but I never caught her looking over at me. I stayed there until closing. I stayed there while she and Bree sat with that dolt Fran, and ate dinner after the bar closed. My brother gave me strange looks, but I just flipped him the finger and ignored him.

I didn’t care how sick I looked. I couldn’t stop myself; I didn’t want to look away from her.

Lainey leaned against the back of her chair swirling a French fry around her plate drowning it in ketchup, but not eating a bite. Very prim and proper, she sat back rigid and ladylike. It made me see images of her on her knees in front of me, seeing how dirty I could get her to be.

Bree was laughing at something Fran had said, but Lainey wasn’t. She didn’t seem to be listening, not even looking at anyone around her, she just stared out across the bar. Bree touched her hand to get her attention, but she just planted a robotic smile on her face that never reached her eyes. Then she turned her attention back out across the bar again and her gaze collided with mine. She didn’t look away.

Seconds.

Minutes.

She did not look away.

Staring at me and me staring at her, our eyes locked, fixed; lost in each other.

Bree interrupted our private moment by taking her plate into the back and walking through the view we had of each other. It was as if someone cut off my oxygen. As I sat there, practically gasping for breath, Lainey pushed herself away from the table, gathered her coat and belongings, and walked out the door not glancing back at me once. Fran was hot on her trail.

“What are you bloody doing, mate?” Dylan’s voice asked next to me.

“Drinking. Writing.”

“You just eye-f*cked that girl to death, Kade. You need to stop whatever is going on in that mind of yours.”

“You just made it so much more tempting, brother,” I said, laughing.

“Bloody hell, Kade. You’re laughing. You’re laughing? You’re barmy, brother. I haven’t seen you laugh in…” He looked at the table I had been staring at for the last hour and realization dawned across his expression.

Want to hear how deep my sickness runs? I did it again the next day and the next. Followed her and ended each night sitting at the same table watching her, delighted as hell a restraining order hadn’t arrived for me yet.