The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 17 ~ War wager

Bard above ^^ Thanks to everyone who always votes, comments, and supports this story!

Chapter 17

"It's funny." He twirled his bottle in front of him, expression thoughtful.

I watched him through narrowed eyes. It wasn't the reaction I'd hoped for. "I wasn't joking."

He looked at me. "I know you weren't. It's just the things you say to try and put me off, only make me want to know more about you." His eyes held mine for a long, drawn out moment. "I want to know your story."

My god. He won't quit. "Are you sure?" I turned to face him.

His eyes trailed a path along my frame then landed back on my face. "Yes."

I swallowed hard. I shouldn't have drank so much. If I'd known I would have to be alone with him, I wouldn't... Wait. I'm lying. I'd still be drunk, I just would have planned better. "I don't think you can handle my story... Bard. It's a sad fucking tale, and honestly, you seem sad enough already."

His lip twitched, and his eyes once again scanned over my face. I'd gotten closer, purposely leaned forward in an attempt to prove how unaffected I was by him. Trouble was, he did affect me. Even now, I could feel the heat radiating from him. It wrapped around and enveloped me in promises I didn't want him to keep.

"You make me want to rewrite it," he said, voice low, smooth as silk.

My breath caught, and heat seared it's way through my chest, pooling into my stomach where it lingered. An itch. He was an itch begging to be scratched. "You can't rewrite it. People don't get to do that. Scars don't heal."

His eyes sharpened to daggers, and I realized my mistake too late. I'd said too much. It was something about him. Him and the alcohol and... need.

"Scars?" He watched me close, too intent.

I sat back and unconsciously touched a hand to my back, to the evidence of what my heart had lead me to the last time I'd followed it.

Bard noticed. "Someone hurt you." He spoke the words as if he'd read them off a treasure map and was already looking for the next clue. "An ex. That's why you're scared. You're running from him."

"You're hogging the best one here," Boe, my guardian angel, swooped in to save the day.

I turned with much more enthusiasm than Boe normally warranted. Thank god.

Bard's jaw ticked.

Boe grinned. "It's real funny watching everyone cower by the grill like you'll eat them. Good thing I don't scare easy, huh Jessie'?" He took my hand and lifted me from the bench. "You ditched me awful damn quick, but I'll forgive you. I set up a game for us to play tonight. Been saving all these drunks' bottle caps for ages. Wanna learn how to flick em'?"

I grinned at him. "Learn? How about, I'll teach you how to do it better?" One didn't spend their youth around bikers and not learn every drinking game there was. Flicking bottle caps was a right of passage. Fred taught me when I was fifteen, and I'd been damn good at it. Always won. At least, until Drake stopped letting me play.

Boe laughed as he pulled me away, and I had to force myself not to look back over my shoulder. I felt them. Those sharp eyes. They dug into my back, searching, seeing.