Loving Mr. Daniels(14)

The doorman looked at me, checked my ID, and put a big, ugly black stamp on my hand—an instant sign that I was underage and shouldn’t be allowed to have a drink or five. I’d expected that, since Mr. Beautiful Eyes had told me from the beginning.
What I hadn’t expected were the emotions when I stepped inside. So many memories came rushing back to me from just standing inside the bar. The band was setting up onstage, and I choked on tears that were fighting to pour out. Where did that come from? Why did I feel like crying?
“I’m going to do that,” Gabby smirked, eyeing the stage as we walked past a bar. “When I get better, the first thing I’m going to do is perform in this bar.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing at my sister. “After you get better, the first item on your agenda is to sing in a dirty bar?”
“What can I say? I like to live on the edge.”
Within a second, I was standing outside the bar again. Moving to the side of the building, I felt my hands sweating up and my eyes watering over. It was too much—all of the new changes to my life. All of the old things that had been taken away from me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even move anymore. I stayed bent over, crying.
Air filled my lungs, but I couldn’t exhale fast enough, causing me to hiccup over the tears. I was certain that it would only be a matter of time before my body crashed down to the hot cement. My knees began to prove my thoughts of fainting right, yet before I could fall, I heard a voice coming from around the corner.
“Hey, are you okay?” a deep, masculine voice whispered as he stepped closer to me.
My insides tightened as I heard his footsteps growing closer. I saw his hands reach out toward me and I jumped out of my skin, wanting him not to touch me. He must have noticed my reaction, and he stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, and I bent my knees, getting closer to the ground.
When I found his face, everything froze. The world went quiet, and I was staring into blue eyes that made the earth’s brightest oceans look dull.
Beautiful.
Breathtaking.
Brilliant.
Blue eyes.
He was Mr. Beautiful Eyes, and a small sigh fell from my lips.
“I’m not going to touch you,” he promised. “I’m not going to hurt you.” There was something so sincere about how he said the words to me that I almost believed him. He made sure to stay a good distance apart from me, but he felt pretty close, too. I liked how close he felt. “Shhh…” His gentle whispers brought me the comfort I needed.
I could smell his cologne and shaving cream from the distance, which tickled my senses, making me want to breathe him in deeper. My hand wiped across my mouth. When I collected my bearings, I returned to a standing position.
My eyes fell to the ground and I watched as he stood up, too. I felt so stupid.
“You’re okay?” he questioned, but the way it had fallen from his mouth made it sound like more of a statement.
I nodded yet still felt the tears falling down my cheeks. “I’m okay.”
He frowned and patted at his pockets. “Sorry. I don’t have any tissue or anything.”
The tears fell harder, probably from embarrassment.
His fingers traveled down to his back pocket, where he pulled out his wallet. He reached in and grabbed a pocketknife and I gasped, taking a step backwards. He saw my reaction and a strong level of guilt took over those blue eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you, remember?”
There was vulnerability in his voice, a softness that almost made me want to look so deep into his eyes so I could see eternity. This stranger made me feel forever, which was something I’d never known could be felt. Who are you?
He took the pocketknife and ripped the sleeve off his white t-shirt. He then put the knife back into his wallet, which went back into his jeans pocket. The sleeve rested in his hands until he reached it out toward me. I stared at him, confused, wondering what he was doing.
“For the tears,” he instructed. I stared at it for the longest time, and he sighed. He placed the edge of the sleeve between his thumb and pointer finger and stretched his arm closer to me. “I won’t touch you.”
Warily taking the sleeve from him, I wiped away my tears and listened to him sigh with relief.
We took in each other’s breaths, and he didn’t move until my breaths slowed down to the speed of his own. “You’re okay…” he repeated as he slid his hands into his jeans pockets. I could almost see his muscular build underneath his shirt. I could almost embrace his soul, which he was so willingly wearing on his sleeves that night.
Well…on one of his sleeves at least.
“I’m okay…” I replied, still feeling my knees wanting to buckle. I missed Gabby so much it hurt to stand. It hurt to cry. It hurt to be alive. I tried my best to avoid crying anymore, but when he looked at me and tilted his head to the left, narrowing his eyes, I felt a wave of emotion flying back to me.
“But it’s all right if you’re not okay,” he whispered.
I sobbed onto his t-shirt sleeve for quite a few minutes after that, losing myself in the sadness. He didn’t move. He didn’t get tired of my emotional breakdown. He just stood there, and for some reason, I felt a hug he never even delivered to me.
I pulled myself together.
I was okay. For now, at least. I shrugged my shoulders and blew my nose into the sleeve, making a very unattractive sound. He laughed lightly. I just felt silly.
“I have to get back…” he stated, sounding apologetic for having to depart, but I knew it was truly the perfect moment for him to disappear. “I’ll see you inside?” he asked.