Fragmented ✔️

2. Whiskey eyes

This date would be my downfall. I had spent months building walls around myself, and they were quickly crumbling to the ground. Weak. I wouldn't drown in my guilt any longer. Saffron was dead and it was all my fault. Each step closer to the bar helped place another brick on my wall and as I imagined placing that last brick, my steps faltered.

Across the bar top, the bartender arranged a line of shots and set them alight. The counter radiated with the flames before a group of girls blew them out and downed the clear liquid. He flashed a dazzling smile as they disappeared towards the dance floor then looked my way. A warmth tingled through from my fingers to the hairs on my nape. For a split second, the amber hues in his irises bewitched me, not too dissimilar to the whiskey bottles on the shelf behind him.

If I had a type, he would be it with his strong jawline, messy yet styled black hair and neat stubble. His plump bottom lip jutted out as his upper lip curled and my stomach turned over as my mind raced to images of them brushing my skin.

This wasn't love at first sight but a bad case of lust and my body wanted, no needed, to act on its urges. I had planned on numbing myself with alcohol, but my mind was made up. Falling into his bed would calm the voices for the night.

Instinctively, I went to flick my blonde locks behind my shoulder and realised they were missing. After a short pause, I fluffed my darker hair up and sashayed to a barstool opposite him.

I had never seen the appeal in sculpted forearms until this moment. His muscles strained against his rolled-up sleeves, his deep olive complexion, popping against the crisp black of his shirt. He squeezed the juice of a lemon into a cocktail and ran the fruit along the edge of the glass before discarding it under the bar.

I scooted forward in my chair to get his attention, but he moved on to serve a group of rowdy men. When he was done with them, I shuffled along, hoping he would finally pay me some attention. He briefly looked my way and asked the blonde bombshell, next to me, what she wanted to drink. Rude! She had only just arrived, and I knew he had seen me.

As I huffed, his lips twitched in an almost smile. He glanced over once more as he set her drink down and served the person on the other side of me.

"Oh, for goodness' sake! Who do I have to blow to get a drink in this place?" I muttered.

His shoulders bounced up and down as he tapped on the touch screen of his cash register.

The bartender smiled, the corners of his mouth this time reaching his ears, as he turned back towards me and as I went to speak, someone brushed their hand along my arm.

"Is this seat taken?"

I shook my head and froze as I came face to face with a mistake I wasn't willing to repeat.

"Hey, do I know you from somewhere?" he asked as he pulled the barstool out and sat next to me. "Yeah, I do. Hair is different, and that but didn't we meet at The Black Horse pub last week? Yeah, we did. I wouldn't forget those eyes." He glanced down to the scar on my cheek as he brushed his blond hair off his forehead. It wasn't my eyes that gave me away.

I instinctively placed my hand over my cheek and gave him a weak smile. "Yep, that was me."

"Didn't think I'd bump into you again. You just vanished that night. I went for a piss, came out and you were gone. Didn't even leave me your number." He circled my wrist with his fingers and stroked the underside with his thumb. "We had fun, didn't we? Fancy a repeat?"

No, I didn't. My number one rule was never to sleep with the same person twice. That way I wouldn't get attached or get hurt. I couldn't afford to make any exceptions. I'd learnt a long time ago if I went straight for their ego, they wouldn't come near me again.