20 / beholden
Decidedly, they need fresh air, possible code for I need to get away from you. Yet when they walk into the neon lit dive bar, the nearest business that isn't closed by eight PM, she keeps close to him like he's all she's ever known.
On their way to the dark end of the bar, they pass by an older couple making out.
"Ew," Kai mutters under his breath.
"Because so many girls are lining up to make out with you."
"Maybe they are and you just haven't noticed."
"Ew."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," he says as they scoot into a pair of stools.
This is the loudest place she's been in since that rave. A townie sings "Little Lies" on karaoke and various tables are erupting into laughter every few seconds, making her jump, which moves Kai to put a hand on her back, as if the most unstable person she's ever met could stabilize her. General chatter fills the voids in between throngs of noise. It's a Friday night. She wishes she remembered this before agreeing to go out.
Kai asks the bartender for a basket of fries, two rum shots and two Mai Tais, which elicits an eye-roll. Bonnie notes that Kai lets this go. No bartenders are harmed in the making of their cocktails. Kai bursts into sing-along once the bartender's back is turned. He looks dramatically into Bonnie's eyes as he sings the chorus line, and she shifts in her stool so as not to be seen humoring this.
"Come on, Bon," he says, "Fleetwood Mac!"
"I think that girl over there's checking you out," she muses.
Kai's head snaps in the direction she indicates. She watches him register that a cute redhead is indeed eyeing him from across the bar. Her eyes flit away once he looks, but Bonnie knows that game.
"Poor girl, she doesn't even know."
The bartender sets their drinks down and Kai smirks, looking terribly pleased with himself.
"Know what?" he asks before a drawn-out sip on his straw.
"About aaaaalllll that baggage—and that you're technically in your forties."
"How do you figure?"
"You were born in what year? And what year is it now?"
"I can do math."
"So do it. You're old."
"My prison world kept me from aging physically. Seems unfair to assume I went ahead and aged mentally. Have you met me? As far as I'm concerned, I'm still twenty-two."
She considers this. Holds out her shot glass. He picks his up and clinks their glasses together before they throw them back in unison.
"So, uh," he hisses through the taste of the rum, "You think I should go talk to her? Wanna be my wingman?"
Bonnie looks again at the pretty redhead avoiding looking directly at Kai, sipping at some kind of red drink, her energy reaching for him.
"Nope."
"Fine. I'll fly solo."
"Oh, please don't go over there. Please don't."
"Why not?"
"So many reasons. One being that you're still learning how to emote. And you're busy."
"I'm still a man."
The way he says this sends a ripple of lust through her belly that surprises her, and she hopes it doesn't translate to a facial expression.
"You're the leader of a coven of witches with a fucked up back story. You shouldn't be dragging girls like that into your life."
"Girls like...what? Like not a witch?"
"Girls who obviously can't handle hard truths."
"You don't even know her."
"I don't need to."
"So what kind of girl, in your humbly righteous opinion, should I quote unquote drag into my life? Being the emotionally unstable coven leader that I am."
"No girl, until we're sure you won't murder them at the first sign of trouble."
"That hurts."
"And even then, someone who could take you."
"Meaning this person should be a witch."
"Ideally."
"Probably a pretty powerful one."
"For best results."
She drains half of her Mai Tai in one long sip.
"So your criteria for the only type of girl I should date is a powerful witch who can handle my antics. Hmm. Where will I ever meet someone like that?"
"Don't."
"What?" His eyes are devilish, his grin shit-eating.
"I have to find the ladies room," Bonnie says, unable to weather the direction this conversation seems to be headed. She takes one more long sip, effectively emptying her glass, and pushes it away from her as she slides off her stool.
"Off you run," Kai says, still grinning as he motions for the bartender to bring them a second round. They should slow down, she thinks, as she walks away feeling the strength of her drink almost numbing her legs already. Or they should speed up. If his intention was to come to this dive bar to pick up chicks, it wasn't clearly stated, and she doesn't think she can stomach the sight. Not without a serious buzz, the kind that reduces the seriousness of everything else, for instance the idea that he still seems game to deceive a woman so willfully.
Bonnie takes a bit longer than she means to, just trying to smooth out her nerves and the seething of seeing him see another girl, not wanting her necessarily but just observing their existence. She doesn't like it. Can't understand why. It isn't really any of her business who he dicks around with. He isn't wrong—he is a man, and an adult, one who's been shut up in isolation for nearly two decades. All things considered, it wouldn't be healthy if he didn't play.
When she finally stomps out of the bathroom, his stool is empty. Glancing around, just slightly panicked, she sees him across the bar talking to that redhead, whose smile beams delirious at his attention. Fuming, Bonnie swipes a half-drunk shot left at a vacated table and slams it as she walks, banging it down at the next empty table in her path, making her way towards him.
She grabs him by the ear.
"Hey, what the f—" he starts, but she's dragging him outside and she isn't letting go because it's the only thing keeping her magic from spiking out of her like stalagmites and spearing everyone in her vicinity through with her calcific rage.
"Bon, really," he laughs. "This is ridiculous, k? Let me go."
The cheers and jeers of other people at the sight of how she marches him out barely register with her. She barrels through the door with him and lets him go only to corner him against the side of the building while the cold wind whips at her hair. He's still just laughing at her, smug as ever.
"What are you thinking?" she demands to know.
"What? I was just talking to her."
"You know what you were doing. There is no room in our life for that."
He bites his lip and cocks his head to glare suspiciously at her.
"Our life?" he asks. "Last I checked, we're two separate people."
"Please," she says. "Please don't screw that poor senseless girl."
He kicks off the wall to lean close as he looks from the fake ring on her finger to the real fire she imagines is in her eyes, and adds, his voice almost a whisper, "Unless you're ready to take some interesting steps, Bon, I am not beholden to you."
But I want you to be, she thinks, and she knows it is selfish to want this without giving him anything in return. Because of how they met and how they live now, she feels like she has some claim to him, but maybe that isn't right.
"I'd consider your input as a caring friend—but wait, we're not even friends," he says. "Right, Bon?"
She wants to dash his head against the wall. She has to get this under control, whatever it is. Jealousy, perhaps. She can admit that. What she cannot admit to him is their friendship. Though something has unquestionably developed, she's afraid to name it. To give him the satisfaction of a name for whatever it is they share. Friends as a word feels inaccurate for them. Insufficient, even.
He smirks at her as though he knows what she is thinking.
"Relax," he says, as he shifts away and coolly heads for the door, until he's caught again in her grip. She yanks him by the collar of his coat and shoves him back against the wall, hard, a mild punishment for the audacity to walk away before she's finished with him.
When he focuses on her through harsh eyes, she can feel his magic welling up sharp between them, and she doesn't understand why the impulse is there. It just is.
She kicks herself up on tip-toes, tugging him down to meet her, the better to take his mouth up in her snarling, fraught kiss. She can hardly breathe but doesn't lend it so much attention as his lips respond much more readily than she expects. Suddenly the control passes like a breath from her mouth to his and she's the one being gripped and pulled and squeezed. His tongue makes a break for hers, and she knows it shouldn't surprise her that Kai Parker's kiss is as violent as his wrath.
It's over nearly before it begins. She flattens her hands on his chest and pushes. It's like she has to break suction. He bounces against the wall and looks at her hungrily from eyes to mouth, mouth to eyes. She realizes she's shaking.
He straightens his jacket around him and, giving her one last gratified and mischievous glance, he makes for the door. She burns holes in his back with her glower that feels somehow less powerful than before.
"Please," she repeats, as nicely as she can with her teeth bared and ready to rip skin if she has to.
"Shyeah, I wasn't going to anyway," he says, grabbing the door handle. Did she hear the slightest break in his voice? "Now can we please get back to our drinks? "
Bonnie clenches her jaw and begrudgingly follows him back into the bar where everyone seems to have forgotten about them.