Sick of staring deep into the amber liquid that sloshed around my glass, I chanced a look at the man next to me. The garish lights of the club gleamed off his brow and temples, a flickering red beam catching on that strong jaw I found myself eyeing more often than not. I felt disappointment sticking in my mouth and throat, distinctly flavoured like alcohol, that his eyes were still concealed like I knew they would be. He turned to me, and I knew he hadn't overlooked the attention I was giving him- had been giving him the entire night, as a matter of fact. The reflexes of an assassin weren't above party tricks like knowing when your partner was giving you the hungry eye.
"Did you want something?" He asked, a chill running up my spine at the unnervingly cool edge of his voice. What I liked best was how there was a note there of hidden amusement, saved just for me and shown in a way that only I could detect.
"Just wondering how the hell you expect to get sloshed if you're still on your first drink." I said, the words having long sat in my head as an excuse to stare. It's amazing how much a guy can get away with when he's got plenty of good lines and the confidence to use them. "Of course, I can't say I was expecting you to be able to keep up with me." Did I say confidence? Perhaps arrogance is a little more accurate.
"Is that so?" He responded, chuckling deeply in that damned way of his that I loved so- that I was so attracted to. It had been far too long ago that I'd first noticed the way shadow played on the curve of his thick, tanned neck and how light caught on the line of piercings along his left ear. I felt a wave of electricity run from my shoulders to my toes, returning upwards to rest indisputably in both the pit of my belly and in my groin. I would kill to trace that neck and ear of his with my mouth, to touch and explore and stop acting like there wasn't that magnetic force between us! The planet knows, I've killed for lesser causes.
"Damn right that's so," I snorted, a deft smirk on my face portraying my favourite 'I'm such a handsome bastard, aren't I?' expression. I would play it safe, maybe even flirt a little once he got drunk enough to be able to forget about it the next morning. My chest clenched suddenly when he shifted in his seat and his knee brushed against the outside of my thigh. My thoughts suddenly exploded in a long, raving curse at whoever decided pants were a necessary protocol for being in public!
"You're not going to be satisfied until you've killed us both," he sighed, as though in resignation, and quickly tipped back his previously full glass and drained it in a single swig. "Another one," he said to the bartender. Pleased, I grinned widely and gave him a nudge in the ribs with my elbow.
"Finally making attempt to stop being a stick in the mud, eh?" The moment the words were out of my mouth, my thoughts jumped to what manner of 'stick' he had, and- no! I couldn't let myself fantasize when he was right there. I knew from a prior experience, it was no fun trying to leave a bar without half of the occupants seeing the unsatisfied bulge of one's crotch, let alone the guy who caused the damn thing to jump up like a dog sitting on a hot coal. I forced my thoughts to cleaner routes, promising myself I would convince him later tonight to crash at my apartment so that I could sleep knowing he was on the couch just one room over and I could see him any time I wanted.
"Reno, are you okay?" His voice snapped me quickly out of my daydreams- or nightdreams, whatever- and I turned to look at him with the stupid grin still on my face.
"Yup, fine, why?"
"The bartender just asked if you wanted a refill and you didn't answer."
"Holy shit, maybe I'm dying!" I exclaimed facetiously, putting a palm to my forehead. I turned over on my stool to make a face at my partner and just about flattened his nose with my elbow. Reflexes, however, sent him jerking backwards just in time to avoid me. I noticed too easily that he was only on about an inch of the stool and the momentum didn't appear to be in his favour; before I could think, he was falling and my hand shot out to grab his arm, yanking him back towards me. "Whoa there, buddy! Have you been sneaking drinks while my back was turned?" A silence fell over us. I knew, I knew somehow that he was aware that there had been no such time that night. The entire evening, even from the smallest corners of my eyes, I hadn't taken my sight off of him once. And he knew. I knew that he knew. But until then, we had pretended that we didn't. I became all too aware of the sleeve of his blazer still caught up in my fist.
"You want to come back to my place?" I whispered huskily. I didn't think. I was an idiot. It was a stupid thing to say. I should have kept a closer watch on my hormones. I should have just run away. But he said yes.