But should I really let her overtake my life? Should I stay shelled off from every social interaction because of her own mistakes and actions?
No, I fucking shouldn’t.
“I’ll have one, but that’s it. Something light, though. And no fucking shots.”
“Haley!” Ivy screams, slapping her hand on the bar top.
The small child from the other day with curly hair bounces out from the back room behind the bar, with Haley following close behind.
“Mommy!”
Ivy’s face breaks into a bright smile, and she hops off the bar stool as the girl barrels into her arms.
“I’m ready to go home!” the kid shouts.
“Already?” Ivy rears back, a shocked look on her face. “How come?”
“Because Haley said in two sleeps Santa will come, and I’ll get even more presents! I want tomorrow to come so I can go to sleep again and open all the presents!” she screams over the music, her hands going as wide as they can on each side of her body.
Ivy laughs, standing up and grabbing onto her hand. “Looks like that’s it for me tonight, guys. This one needs to get to sleep.”
Katie slides off her stool. “I’m come with you. Nothing else to do with Jex out of town.”
Ivy nods, and both of them look over at us. “Have a good night, girls. Don’t be stupid.” They aim the stupid toward Violet before speaking to me. “Nice to meet you, Iris,” Ivy says, and they head out, leaving Violet and I alone, save for Haley, who stands behind the bar with an irritated look on her face.
“You aren’t drinking, Violet,” Haley says before Violet can even ask.
Violet sneers. “I’ll come back there and make my own drink, then.”
Haley stares at her a second then sighs, pulling out two glasses. “I’m feeling fucking nice, or I’d slap you across the face for your attitude. One drink each, max. If I catch you getting another, I’ll steal your keys for a week.”
“I’ll take your car.” Violet smiles.
“I’ll tell Lynx about that tattoo you got.”
Violet’s face pales, and she shrinks back. “You win,” she grumbles.
I turn toward her as Haley mixes us some mysterious drink. I don’t even want to see what she puts in it. “You have a tattoo?” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “I’ll tell you later.” Her eyes shift to the left, and I watch the one man I wanted to see and didn’t want to see at the same time make his way right toward us.
Lynx.
He walks across the room like a god. A masculine, rugged as hell man who doesn’t back down to anyone.
And his eyes are directed on mine.
It feels like a wave of heat and ice washes over my body. Without even thinking about it, my hand reaches out, grabbing onto the glass in front of me. Lifting it to my lips, I take a sip, wanting to wince at the sweetness and strong flavor of alcohol. But I don’t, because I would feel even more like a child, and I so badly want to act like an adult.
More than ever.
“Why’re you drinking, Violet?” Lynx barks at her.
She rolls her eyes, lifting her own drink to her lips. “Because I want to.”
His nostrils flare, and his eyes swing over to mine. “What’s your name again?”
“Iris,” I whisper, my voice suddenly not working.
“Iris,” he rasps.
Fuck, his voice is so deep. So fucking manly.
My voice fails me completely at this point. I nod. No one has ever said my name like that. So smooth, it almost sounds decadent.
“How old are you, Iris?”
“Seventeen.” My voice cracks, and I take another sip, this one not as terrible.
He glances at my drink, his nostrils flaring as he watches my tongue dart out along my lips, tasting the sweetness. His jaw clenches, the muscles along his cheeks twitching beneath his dark scruff. I feel a thump low in my belly, and a rush of heat bottoms out between my thighs.
Holy shit, what is going on?
I know Lynx is attractive, but whatever is happening is on an entirely different level.
The heat between us is undeniable. But it’s so wrong.
“Haley, no more drinks for these two,” he growls, spinning around and walking off without another word or look in my direction.
“Wasn’t planning on it. Fuck, he’s been off the last few days,” Haley says, tossing the rag over her shoulder and walking to the back room.
“She’s right, these last few days he’s been weird as fuck.” Violet downs the rest of her drink, sliding off her stool and walking back behind the bar.
“You’re having another?”
She shrugs, a sly smile on her face. “They pretend like they can tell me what to do, but they know I’m doing whatever I want.”
I laugh at that, tilting my drink to take another sip. It’s starting to taste good. Fruity, and actually kind of delicious. “What did you mean about Lynx? That he’s acting weird lately?”
She nods, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Yeah. He’s been acting super off. Moody and shit.”
“Hmmm.” I swirl my drink, the ice cubes clinking around the glass as Guns n Roses plays in the background.
“Violet, if you don’t pick your shit up from my room right now, I swear to God I’m throwing all this shit in the garbage!” A voice comes from upstairs.
“Fucking West,” Violet growls, slamming her new, full drink down on the bar top. Some of the pink liquid sloshes onto the wooden bar, and she leans forward, taking a sip from the rim. “I’ll be right back, unless you want to come with and see me beat the shit out of a grown ass man.”
As appealing as that sounds, I’m honestly feeling a little tipsy already and don’t want to make a fool out of myself walking up the stairs. “I’m good. I’ll wait down here.”
“Violet!” The shout rips through the music and down the stairs.
“Fucking hell, I’ll be right back.” She races around the bar, her feet heavy as she makes her way upstairs.
I giggle, feeling lightheaded and heavy at the same time. I glance down at my drink, seeing it more than halfway gone.
Shit, maybe I should slow down.
I set my glass on the bar, sliding off my stool and making my way to the extravagant Christmas tree. The lights flicker and sparkle on the branches, the overwhelming smell of pine making its way into my senses. I inhale as I walk around it, enthralled and so overwhelmed by the lights and colors and emotion it invokes in me.
I wish I could live like this. This massive production of holidays and celebrations that is treated just like any other day in my life back at home.
But it’s not. It’s not at all. Christmas is special. It should be exciting and wonderful and make your heart race for all the days before. That’s what I want.
I want special.
“You look like you’ve never seen a Christmas tree in your entire life.” The voice rasps behind my ear, and a shiver breaks out along my body.
Lynx.
“I haven’t. Not really.”
“Why is that?” he asks. He stays an appropriate distance away. Close enough that I can smell his smoky scent, but far enough away that he isn’t invading my bubble.
But, what if I want him to invade my bubble?