Chapter 6
***
"Misogynistic assholes." I grumble, downing a shot of my dear friend, tequila, "just because I don't walk around with a cock between my legs, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about!"
The bartender gives me an obligatory, half-assed smile while shaking a stainless steel cocktail mixer with a cheerful pace. People a couple of seats away ignore my melancholy, busy with their pretentious conversation about the weather and whatnot.
I pout, looking at the neglectful crowd. "Anyone want to join my pity party? No?"
My phone alerts a text message, and it's from my worst enemy.
"Where did you go?"
I glare at the screen. A minute later, another text comes through.
"You're having a pity party at a bar, aren't you?"
"You think you know me, asshole?" I yell at my phone.
"Let me guess. Tequila."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't." The bartender replies, "but you should keep your voice down, you're scaring my customers."
I squint at him. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I also not good enough for you? I bet if I were a man, you'd be like," I deepen my voice before I proceed. "Hey man, this one's on the house. Tell me what's on your mind, pal. How may I mend your wounded heart, my brother?'"
"Is that what you want? You want someone to mend your wounded heart...my brother?" Lucas appears beside me, amusement tugging on his lips. He rests his forearms on the bar, facing my profile.
I focus on the lined bottles by the wall ahead. "Were you watching this entire time..."
"No...you're at our hotel bar, it wasn't hard to find you." His tone is careful, almost gentle, "Also, I've been in enough happy hours with you to know that if you're in a good mood, you go for a glass of white wine, and if you're upset, it's usually tequila."
I toy with the shot glass in my hand. "Good job, you got me all figured out."
His eyes study me for a moment before he speaks again. "What happened in there?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're usually in so much control, and confident. You lost yourself back there."
I give him a flat look. "Gee, is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"I'm not trying to make you feel better, I just want to understand."
I get up from my seat with a sigh. "Lucas, I'm not in the mood. Just leave me alone, yeah?"
He pinches the bridge of his nose, raising his other hand. "Hold on."
"What?" I snap.
"I'm trying to talk to you."
"You're failing."
"Can you just sit?" He grits the words with a clenched jaw.
"No."
He lowers a finger on the tabletop. "Sit."
I scoff a smirk. "Do I look like a dog to you?"
The side of his mouth twitches with a shrug. "Well, you are a bitch to me sometimes."
My jaw slacks, and without a thought, I snatch the bowl of maraschino cherries from behind the bar and dump them on his head. The red, sticky syrup soaks his brown hair and drips on his white shirt, as he freezes in utter, livid shock. "You're an ass." I clip.
"That's it, get the fuck out of here!" The bartender yells at me, gesturing towards the exit. People on nearby stools turn and stare my way, as I boil crimson, on the verge of tears.
Suddenly Lucas gets on his feet, causing the metal legs of his chair to scrape against the tile. He raises an eyebrow at the bartender, eyes cold and ruthless. "You want to say that again?" He asks, voice so calm, it sends a shiver down my spine.
The bartender darts his gaze downwards, rushed and flustered. "Get a hold of your girl, she's causing a scene."
"She can do whatever the fuck she wants," Lucas narrows a relentless glare, each word spoken deep and slow, "what are you going to do about it?"
The crowd murmurs their worries, and I put my hand on Lucas's arm. "Let's just go."
But he remains in a solid, immovable stance. "You have anything to say?"
The man looks at me, red with contempt and fear. "I apologize, I didn't mean to yell."
"It's alright..." I mumble, nudging Lucas away.
~
We walk to the elevators in silence, tension rolling off of us both. When the doors open and we get in, he punches the button to the top floor, with still no word.
On each level, the elevator stops, bringing strangers in, each with the same reaction when they see him - eyes wide then immediately away the second they catch his anger.
I sneak a peak through my lashes at his symmetrical, still posture, his broad shoulders, straight back, and hard features. But then, the red, gooey mess in his hair, the strings of syrup on his temples, and the drops trickling down his neck, around the collar of his shirt grab my attention and I stifle a giggle.
He looks down, as if to say 'are you seriously laughing at me', but the sternness while wearing a cherry crown only makes me fold over. And the crowd shifts uncomfortably, while I cover my mouth, and through the reflection of the doors, I see the corners of his lips curve up.
"I owe you a new shirt," I say when we step down the hallway.
"You're fine." He mutters.
"No, I feel bad."
"Good, you should feel bad."
"Hey! You called me a bitch, you asshole."
He sighs, looking down at the tan carpet beneath. "Sorry...that was uncalled for."
"It's fine...I am a bitch sometimes, especially to you."
"You're not a bitch, Layla. You're a lot of things, but not a bitch."
I narrow my eyes as we stop in front of my door. "Why are you being nice to me?"
Lucas glances away, "You already had a tough day with the meeting, I didn't mean to make it worse."
"Noted..." I drawl, waiting for the catch. "So, are we good?"
"I'll let you know once this shit is out of my hair."
I giggle. "Good luck."
~
It's only 8 p.m, why the hell am I in my hotel room?
When I knock on Lucas's door, he's changed into a black v-neck shirt with matching jeans. The darkness strikes a contrast against the rich warmth of his umber hair and chestnut eyes.
"I want to go to the bar, but I'm scared to go alone." I blurt.
"I'm not your bodyguard." He says flatly.
"Come on, please? Casey said that you'll look out for me. I'm trying to get some."
His eyebrows reach his forehead. "What?"
"I'm trying to get some, and I need a wingman, plus it'll help us hang out and stop being enemies. I mean, obviously, I'm still going to get the VP role and you're going to cry, but I figured, if you're going to hang out with Casey, I can't go on wishing for you to get hit by a bus."
"Wow."
I grin cheekily. "So, you in?"
He runs a hand through his hair, with strained contemplation, then looks at my outfit. "You're wearing that?"
I frown at my white button down and flare pants. "I guess...not..."
"Definitely not, unless you're going to a lesbian bar."
My eyes snap up like he just said the most brilliant thing, and his go wide in response.
~
~~A/N~~
Oh shooooot!!!! Are we...seeing...some development here?!
Lucas and Layla at a lesbian bar, let's go! Anyone scared?