Of Kings and Aces

51| Back to Zero

I choked on my drink and accidentally dropped my glass. My mind was blank and yet muddled as I stared at his clean-shaven face. Everything around me stopped—even my heart.

Breathe, Ace, one to twelve...

Stop skipping beats, you heedless thing!

The smoothness of his voice may have stilled me, but it was the clear sapphire waters of his eyes that captivated me and took me back on a very quick time trip to the first time I've seen them up close.

"You couldn't have him even if you tried," someone guffawed. I blinked a few times to regain my senses, turned to a hysterically laughing Dave, then back at the man in front of me before breathing again.

"Hi," I said in a deep, shaky breath.

"Hey." The one corner of his mouth tugged, giving me a closed, lop-sided grin, still hiding his imperfect teeth. My friends breathed, but we remained standing two feet apart, staring, gazing at each other.

I knew I missed him a lot but not this much that I could barely talk or function. But then Jacob always had that effect on me, and it was absolutely annoying that it happened at the most inopportune times.

"Anyone care for drinks?" Jaxx burst our little bubble.

"First, Fuck Me!" Dave and Cass shouted in unison. Everyone burst out laughing. When Jaxx's eyes landed on me, I shook my head. Val gave us a surreptitious glance before introducing herself to Jaxx's friends.

We remained standing two feet apart, eyes darting around, not knowing what to say or how to start talking. He shoved his hands in his pockets while I rubbed the back of my nape. He rocked on his feet, and I started to sweat despite the November chill.

"Uh, I....uhm... I'm... I was... just going... for a walk." I wiped the invisible sweat from my forehead, flustered and embarrassed.

Anxiety was running high. So, with my eyes on the floor, I made a quick exit. Heat rushed to my cheeks spread to my ears and neck. If my cheeks were a tinge red, it certainly wasn't from the alcohol.

The icy wind slapped my hot face the moment I stepped out of the door. It was so sudden and painful I almost missed a step, just like what happened inside not five minutes ago: sudden and intensely painful.

I put the neck gaiter I bought earlier to good use as I walked further and further away from the bar to the direction of Central Park. It would probably be a fifteen-minute walkathon, but it was all to get away from that one person who, with his mere presence, commands me to roll over and present my soft underbelly.

He didn't have to talk. All he said was one word. One word and my logic flew out the window. I was frozen stiff despite being indoors and was rendered speechless yet again. If he only knew how much I wanted to embrace him, of how much I missed him, of how my repaired heart was suddenly aching again. It was running wild and was about to burst; I had to leave for my own safety. But my stupid mouth refused to cooperate and let me explain.

I was ecstatic and devastated at the same time. Surprised and thrilled, yet I was shaking like a leaf. The swing between the extremes of emotions in barely a minute was too much, my heart was literally skipping beats.

I wanted to thank him for taking that bullet. He did not owe me anything. If anything, we owed him everything. He did not need me to meddle with finding the breach in building up the security. I just hastened the course, and in the process, I accelerated that snowball rolling downhill, ending in a cataclysmic avalanche. 

I don't even know if he understood what was happening that time, if he thought we really sold him out. He was still hurt, but he still chose to jump between the bullet and me. If it weren't for his selflessness, I would have been wheelchair-bound today if I lived.