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“You get those a lot?”
“No, I haven’t had one in a while.”
“Stressful day?”
“Of sorts.” Not really. Not more than usual, and yet it feels as if I’m getting slowly buried under a rockslide.
I don’t say that. But he nods as if I have.
“You should take it easy,” he says. “I’ll go get you a glass of water.”
“No need,” I start but he’s already striding away, leaving me in the dust to admire his pert backside and long legs as he heads to the water cooler by the information desk.
How fucking mortifying.
I’m feeling better. His presence distracted me, making me forget what I was so stressed about. Now, watching him walk back to me I still feel that strange sense of disconnect, and I don’t know if it’s a result of the dizziness from the anxiety, or his sex appeal.
He has a lot of that. He’s just so… male, somehow. Male and sensual, the way he walks, the way his chin dips, the way his shoulders slope, the way his T-shirt clings to his muscular torso. He’s the kind of man I’d like to wring sounds out of. Raw sounds. Moans and grunts. I’d like to see that elegance shattered, to see him arch, his beautiful body glinting with sweat?—
“Here you go.” He offers me the paper cup and I stare at it, uncomprehending. “Water.”
Head out of the gutter, Sawyer, now!
I grab the cup, water sloshing over the rim, and gulp it down. “Thanks,” I mutter, clenching my hand, crushing the cup. “You didn’t have to help me.”
“Are you serious? If I felt unwell, I’d hope someone would come to the rescue.”
I wince. Rescue. Last thing I want is to seem or let myself feel helpless. So I make myself stand up. “I’m good now. Sorry for the bother.”
“That was no bother at all.”
He is very well spoken for a… for a bartender. Good God, Sawyer, prejudiced much? What does his job have to do with anything?
And yet. Working in a bar has to affect you, right?
“Don’t let me keep you,” I mutter.
To my surprise, he starts laughing. It’s a deep laugh, deeper than his voice, and it’s a warm, delicious sound.
“What?” I ask testily.
“That’s what people say when they want to get rid of you, but in a polite way.”
My mouth twitches. Dammit. “It’s not like that. You rescued me. Now I’m fine.”
“And that snark.” He’s still chuckling.
“You don’t like omegas being snarky?” I snark some more. “Huh?”
He lifts his hands. “I love it, actually.”
Well, that’s… disarming. My mouth is open and I don’t know what to say. I must present quite the picture, because he laughs again, and I end up grinning at him.
“Well, I have to go,” he says eventually. “My study group is somewhere in here and we have a test coming up.”
“Study group?”
“I’m taking a course in anthropology,” he says as if that’s perfectly normal. “Unless you need anything else…?”
