Having lost the man she loved to the cold clutches of suicide, Amara's impulsive decision to join him leads her to accept the marriage proposal of a mysterious stranger she shares a drink with at a bar.
Xelan's weddings were an awful affair, with ea...
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Present day
Amara sipped her drink, oblivious to the melodic jazz music and the cheers of the pleased crowd of Jazz Plug. The burn her throat felt was ephemeral—disappointing to say the least. She wished it would make a hole. maybe then the heavy feeling in her chest would take a bow to the pain.
A hiccup came uninvited as she emptied her glass before trying to observe her surroundings. Turning her head to face the dance floor, she scoffed at the swoon-worthy scene of couples slow dancing, some making use of the slow rhythm and dim red and blue lights to get more intimate. A bunch of sappy fools.
Her eyes trailed back to the counter, settling on the guy who sat beside her. He had barely touched his liquor, that she knew because he hadn't called the bartender since she served the first one. Instead, he leaned against the onyx marble counter, staring at his cufflinks.
"Are you going to finish that?" she asked with a small hiccup. Alcohol always made her chatty, or so Jack had claimed.
His guarded amber eyes threw her a sideways glance and she frowned a bit at the emptiness she found in them, a shiver creeping up her spine. They looked like—
"What crawled up your ass?"
And it seemed, the alcohol made her cheeky as well. Or rather, it was the nightmarish memory that had sprung up on her that made her blurt it out without thinking. The question stunned him as much as it did her. He swivelled his chair to face her, checking his fancy pocket watch. Her prejudice against rich folks asides from Jack would never have allowed her to spare him a second glance. But as of the moment, drunk Amara could care less.
"Are you always this rude?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he slipped it back into his pocket.
"No, I guess it's just you who brings it out of me. Well you, and this baby right here." She raised her glass filled with ice and beckoned to the bartender.
"Bourbon, please," she said with a smile at the young woman.
"I bring out the worst in you?" he repeated, his voice rising at the end of the statement, making it sound like a question. Amara nodded, receiving her order.
"Yeah, and the alcohol too. That wasn't the question I wanted to ask. Or rather, it wasn't phrased right."
"What was the question you wanted to ask?"
He seemed curious. She smiled at the thought. It had never occurred to her that she could make him interested in what she had to say. So she sought to draw it out a bit, savouring the moment and the bourbon before answering,
"Why do your eyes look so lifeless?"
He scoffed a bit, finally drinking from his glass. He then put it down, staring at the dark liquid that sloshed around the edges of the tumbler. "How perceptive of you."
