Happy finds himself fixated on the new girl Gemma hires to work in the office. The idea for the story is loosely based on the song "Stay" by Rihanna with Mikky Echo. PLEASE tell me what you think! This will be several chapters.
All along it was a fever A cold sweat hot-headed believer I threw my hands in the air and said, "Show me something," He said, "If you dare, come a little closer."
Adriana's POV:
I felt like shit. I dropped down into the rusty metal chair outside of the office and took one last drag off my cigarette. Gemma was inside wrapping up the last of the invoices before we closed up shop for the day. She took pity on me and told me to head home a little early knowing that the hangover was kicking my ass, but I felt guilty enough to at least wait and walk with her to her car. I finished my cig, ground the butt out on the blacktop and took a sip from my Coke can. Earlier that afternoon when Gemma had demanded that I go to the clubhouse to eat lunch, I managed to empty half of the soda out in the sink and replace it with some Jack Daniels that was behind the bar without anyone noticing. The thought of food just wasn't doing it for me and I had smugly decided that the whiskey would be more helpful given the state that I was in. I took a giant sip from the can, closed my eyes and savored the burn as the Jack hit the back of my throat. After last night, I needed something to take the edge off. For now, the booze would have to do.
It was the end of the day and the guys were beginning to filter out of the garage and into the clubhouse, one by one. Bobby was the first one out of his coveralls and off the clock. He stood outside T&M and lit up a cigarette. He smiled at me and nodded.
"You look like hell, darlin'" Bobby chuckled, walking my way.
"Feel like it, Bobby," I acknowledged, lifting my can of soda and shaking it. "Last night was rough. Needed a little hair of the dog to get me through the afternoon."
"I've been down that road a time or two. You know, I used to be a lot prettier than I am now. Lost my girlish figure after too many years of seeing the world through an empty bottle of whiskey." He patted his protruding belly in case I required proof.
I winced as I laughed at him, my head not appreciating the extra effort it took to be jovial. My stomach churned and I took a few deep breaths until I was certain I wouldn't puke right there in the parking lot.
As I listened to Bobby carry on about his younger days, my attention was drawn to the bike making its way down the street and into the lot. I knew who it was without even seeing the driver's face. There was no mistaking Happy Lowman, even from a distance. His broad shoulders and muscular, tan arms were something I had been noticing a lot lately. Truth be told, I watched him a lot these past few weeks. The way he moved. The way he carried himself. The way he always appeared to be so serious. His eyes were the darkest brown, but I had noticed when he was angry, they turned almost black. Like two pieces of coal.
Yeah. I was spending way too much time staring at Happy Lowman.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Instead of parking along with the rest of the motorcycles, Happy pulled his bike a few feet away from where Bobby and I were chatting. Happy hadn't been at the shop at all today. I knew this because I had been keeping an eye out for him since opening up the office at 8 am. I spent a good part of the day trying to come up with a casual way to ask Gemma where he was without sounding too interested, which would inevitably cause her "Mom Radar" to go off. When I overheard Clay mention to her that Happy would be back from Tacoma by the end of the day, I was relieved to not have to bring it up.
"How'd it go, brother?" Bobby called over to him.
I watched closely as Happy took off his helmet and removed his black KD's from his face. His eyes were fixed on me as he spoke to Bobby.
"It went."
"Did you find out anything?" Bobby questioned him.
Happy only grunted in reply.
"Yeah, well, thanks for the info," Bobby whined sarcastically. "Good talk."
I tried to avoid Happy's stare. I took another sip from my soda can and pretended to be interested in my shoes. I licked my thumb and busied myself by removing a non-existent scuff off the rubber tip of my Converse.
"Adriana, you coming inside? I still need to win back that money I let you take from me the last time we played pool." Bobby chuckled, walking backward to the clubhouse.
I took a quick look in Happy's direction and then back at Bobby. I had planned on going straight home tonight. I needed to catch up on some sleep. I knew if I hung out with the guys again tonight, I would be paying the price come morning.
Even when I was looking at Bobby, I could feel Hap's eyes on me. It made me warm. It made me sweat. I wanted to run away from him and sit and stare back at him all at the same time.
"Ummm...yeah. Maybe," I stuttered.
"Well, ok then. Geez! Trying to converse with the two of you is like pulling teeth. It's just painful." Bobby shook his head as he turned and entered the clubhouse.
I turned my eyes back down to the cement below me, and then slowly lifted them up once again, not surprised to see Happy still in the same spot, motionless, perched on his bike. He scowled as he viewed me from his biker's throne, like a King taking note of his subject. I felt my heart clench and I drained the remaining Jack and Coke from the can. My hands shook just slightly, but I wasn't sure if it was the hangover or just my anxiety beginning to rear its ugly head. I set my gaze on him and took note of how calm and self-assured he appeared. I would have given anything to be that secure.
The more Happy scrutinized me, the more nervous I became. My stomach began to churn and I could feel the perspiration rise on the back of my neck. The same soundtrack played through my brain, over and over and over again. I prayed Happy would say something – anything - to drown out my inner thoughts. But the silence between us continued on. Killing me. The voice in my head became louder and more agonizing.
"You're not worthy," it screamed inside my brain.
I jumped up, threw the can on the ground and stormed into the clubhouse, slamming the door shut behind me.
