After You

chapter seven

I can't believe this. I literally can't believe this. I'm not drunk, so he's definitely not a figment of my imagination. But it can't be purely coincidental for him to be here, right now, when I am.

"You can't be serious," I murmur to myself, but I still say it loud enough for Kyle to hear. "I'm pretty sure you have it wrong," I then say to him. The music, which was relatively quiet at the booth, is much louder over here. "I come here all the time, which means you followed me."

Kyle scoffs. "For all the times I've visited this place, I have never seen you," he counters.

"Exactly," I say, latching onto his admission. "Because I am here, and you are not."

"Will it ruin your night knowing I'm friends with the guy who owns this bar?" Kyle says, a smirk finding its way onto his lips. He watches my face, but I try to remain impassive as he continues, "Which means I'm entitled to free drinks."

I don't miss a beat, because in this game, any hesitations, any pauses in conversation, is a point lost to him. I can't let him beat me. "Then get me drinks," I say. "Put your 'entitlement' to good use."

He pretends to think about it. "No," he says simply.

Sitting at the barstool has him at my height, so it's easy to maintain eye contact as I say, "Has anyone ever told you you're an asshole?"

His smirk seems to come easy to him, like it's something he does regularly. It's starting to get on my nerves, just like him being here – and not just in my presence. I don't like him being at Josie's at all. I don't believe him when he says that he comes here. I might be ignorant to who he is, but he's impossible to miss. His presence alone is enough for people to turn and look in his direction, but he's also too good looking for me to ignore. Even if I was drunk, he would've been on my radar.

Kyle chuckles. "It's been a while, actually."

I turn away from him and back to the bar – but the bartender has moved on, moving to the other end to serve another woman. I curse under my breath.

"Great," I say sarcastically.

Kyle shrugs his shoulders, something I notice in my peripheral vision. "That's why you shouldn't try to cut in front," he says.

"Speak up next time," I retort. "Then it won't happen again." Though I'm going to do so as soon as the bartender comes back. I'm going to cut in front, take my drinks, then never see him again. I'll stay at the booth for the rest of the night.

"So you're still pissed off about this morning, I take it," Kyle says suddenly.

I look at him now. "And what gives you that impression?" I ask. This close, he is even more handsome than I previously thought.

He rocks slightly on the barstool, leaning his arm against the bar as he flips his credit card on its sticky surface over and over. "Your whole demeanour," he replies, and he gestures to my body – from my head to my toes – with a flick of his wrist. "Calling me an asshole also gives it away."

"I'm just stating facts," I say simply.

Truth be told, I'm past the events of this morning. I just don't want to dwell on it, like everyone around me seems to want to. I don't care for Kyle, I don't care for his reputation, I don't care for who he is.

"I said I'd pay for it," Kyle continues, and suddenly I feel his hand tugging on the sleeve of my blouse, like we have breached some kind of personal space agreement where he's allowed to touch me in any capacity.

I pull my arm away from him. "And I said I'd send you the bill."

The corner of his mouth curls. "Please do."

For what seems like hours, we don't talk; I stand awkwardly beside him, while he just sits there, flipping his credit card on its edge.

"How often do you bump into women and ruin their clothes?" I ask Kyle, as I try to flag down the bartender but to no avail.

"If it happened all the time I wouldn't have any money left," he says, tone light. "So count yourself lucky."

"Count myself lucky that I got to meet you?" I say, and I scoff. "Please. If I wanted to bump into an asshole on purpose I would've just gone across the street."

A man suddenly appears at Kyle's elbow, a wicked grin lighting his features. "Did I just hear you call Kyle Ward an asshole?"