Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 58(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 58(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
It had been ages since I had sex. Too long, if I was being honest. God, I couldn't even remember the last time.
“Saúde,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile while he raised his glass and clinked it against mine.
“Skál,” I murmured, using another word for cheers like he had.
He smiled and shook his head. “You're a trip, and I mean that in the best way possible.”
The first sip warmed me from the inside out, but it wasn’t just the vodka that made me feel this way. It was sitting beside Stefan and sharing a drink with him. We sat quietly for a little as we drank and just enjoyed the comfortable silence between us, the only noise I noticed coming from a jukebox off to the side, the machine glowing from the vibrant lights as the music filled the interior of the bar.
He leaned closer and started speaking to me, telling me a few things about himself. And then my ears zeroed in on the way his voice softened when he asked about my life, my likes, and my dreams. It kind of took me aback, because… no one had ever seemed so genuinely interested in knowing shit about me.
I kept things light during the first drink, but when I was nearly done with my second Tito’s and soda, I opened up more and told him things I hadn’t shared with anyone in years—like how I wanted to travel, because living in the city for so long made me feel stuck in a revolving door of life.
And the whole time, Stefan listened. Like really listened. He didn’t interrupt me as I rambled on, my lips loose from the alcoholic beverages. He just let me talk, and his intense gaze never left mine.
I felt like I’d been talking forever and clamped my lips shut around my straw to finish my drink. Now, it was my turn to ask about him. Where to even start?
He leaned back and took on a relaxed stance. “I had to grow up fast,” he began—to my relief, obviously seeing my struggle—his voice quieter now.
I didn't know what that meant exactly, but I assumed he meant he had to take care of himself well before his time. And that made me sad, because I picked up on a bitter note in his tone that he tried to hide right away. But I said nothing. I just listened, like he did with me.
“Unfortunately, I had a dad who was a bastard on the best of days. Most of the time, I was the parent and not the child. And because of that, I figured things—like everything—out on my own.”
He spoke softly, smoothly, and I hung on to everything he said. But I didn't miss that there was a weight to his words. It was a darkness that someone had because they experienced trauma, that their life wasn’t happy with love and kindness… like my childhood had been.
And that broke my heart.
Time held no meaning right now, as Stefan and I spoke. We had more drinks, laughed, and told silly stories mixed in with serious ones. And it all felt so comfortable and right. And that should have scared me, but no red flags rose, so I just rolled with it and enjoyed my time with him.
I laughed at a story Stefan told about how he lost his first job. It was filled with disaster and embarrassment, and I’m sure he brought it up to make me feel better about what happened to me outside earlier.
“Needless to say, I quit the next day,” he finished with a chuckle.
I laughed again, my cheeks flushed and hot from the vodka. I swirled the last of my drink in my glass just as we were told the bar was closing soon.
The bar hummed with quiet energy, the place where secrets could be shared without the fear of being overheard. I swirled the last of my whiskey sour in my glass, the ice clinking softly as I turned my attention to Stefan.
My gaze caught on the chain around his neck, the medallion resting against the dark fabric of his shirt he had on beneath the Santa coat. It was intricate and delicate, almost out of place on someone like him, who was gritty, rough-edged, and commanding.
“So, what’s up with that?” I asked, nodding toward the Santa suit.
“I dress up every year and volunteer at a youth facility.” He tossed back the rest of his drink. “It’s a charity for kids—especially the ones who’ve had it rough.”
I blinked, surprised. “You volunteer? With kids?”
He nodded, almost shrugging it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “That so hard to believe?”
I shook my head fast, hoping I hadn’t offended him. “No! I—”
His smile put me at ease. “Kidding. I didn’t exactly have a childhood that anyone would envy, so… I get them. I can connect with them.”