"You forget how hard it is to ignore someone who looks the way you do," He replied smoothly, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of us.
Running his large hands slowly down my arms before looping them around my waist possessively...
Work had been fine for the past few days. Mostly casual orders—college students grabbing quick caffeine fixes, regulars chatting about their day, and the occasional Karen testing my patience. That part was par for the course.
The shop's proximity to the university kept the vibe lively, with young people stopping by to study, unwind, or catch up with friends. Leana, one of my coworkers, often came during her free time to work. She started her shift at 3 and usually stayed until closing. Occasionally, I'd stick around to help her close up, but not always.
Outside of work, life felt static. My routine was just scattered calls with friends and family. I still hadn't spoken to Mom, even though I knew I should. Dad reminded me every time we talked that I needed to reach out, but I couldn't muster the courage.
By Friday night, I was restless. With nothing to do, I found myself wandering aimlessly through the apartment. That's when my eyes landed on the liquor cabinet.
I hesitated for maybe half a second before deciding I needed something to shake off my boredom. Sliding open the cabinet, I scanned the bottles—tequila, vodka, rum—before settling on some whiskey. Casual, nothing too strong.
Grabbing a glass, I poured a generous amount and took my first sip. The sweet burn hit my tongue just right. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I scrolled through my phone, letting the slow thrum of the whiskey relax me.
Feeling the silence press in, I grabbed my speaker from my room and brought it back, queuing up a playlist. Music drifted softly through the apartment, filling the space as I scrolled aimlessly on my phone, the glass cradled in one hand.
I had just started to let my guard down when a deep, familiar voice cut through the music like a blade.
"Why are you drinking my shit?"
I nearly choked on my drink, my heart leaping into my throat. Turning toward the voice, I spotted Matío standing in the doorway, his white dress shirt clinging slightly to his chest, damp from the rain. His dark hair dripped water onto his collar, and the set of his jaw told me exactly what kind of mood he was in.
"Why not? I was thirsty and bored," I replied casually, taking another sip as if his presence didn't faze me.
He rubbed his face, letting out a frustrated sigh before dropping his things on the counter and walking over. Without a word, he grabbed the whiskey bottle and put it back in the cabinet.
