and everything started moving in slow motion, like some movie out of the 80’s or 90’s where the underrated good girl spotted the bad boy who was headed her way.
Fucking Heathcliff Kerrigan.
Though everyone called him Heath for short. And he alone was the bane of my existence. Over six feet tall, he was sex on legs. With a hand in his pocket, the other ran through his shaggy hair, hair that was cropped close on the sides, but was long on top—the best of both worlds. The slick strands matched the color of his eyes, when not covered in gel. He pushed those dark strands aside, revealing his eyes; chocolate saucers that pulled you into their depths without even trying. A short beard covered a face so perfectly sculpted that it should be a crime. He wore a button-up shirt, unbuttoned on top, exposing just enough chest to make any hot blooded woman’s fingers itch. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his muscled forearms, and then his jeans... Jeans that looked like they were tailored specifically for him. And yes, I wanted to see what he had packing underneath his well-fit clothes and I hated myself for it.
“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. I thought that was you sitting over here.” I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the throb between my legs that had started the minute I saw him. Such a waste of man, sexy voice with a body to match, but the brain of an egomaniac. He was hot and he knew it. “All alone on a Friday night or you still pining away for me?”
“Aren’t you sweet?” I couldn’t bear to make eye contact with him—with those eyes that screamed ‘Fuck me’—and assumed he caught my sarcastic tone. “Believe it or not, I’m not pining. Pining would mean that I cared in the first place, Heath.”
“Right, if I was William it’d be a different story.” That caught my attention. He knew I had a soft spot for his twin brother, always had. “You know, to this day you’re still the only one who can consistently tell us apart? We can still fool our parents if we really want to.”
I didn’t need the reminder of why it was I was the one able to tell them apart. “Maybe because your mother’s books are more appealing than you are?” He narrowed his eyes at me as I continued. “You can’t fool me. Your hair is always a mess, too cocky for your own good, you never shave, and you will sleep with just about anything that walks. Well, as long as she’s not too brainy. I know how smart chicks dampen…” I looked to his crotch, “…things. And not in a good way.”
Stacey snorted, her laughter filling the small space between us all as Heath continued to stare me down.
He clutched his heart, like he was wounded. “Ouch.”
I could feel his eyes drilling into the side of my face, willing me to dare make eye contact once more. Don’t look, don’t look. If I made eye contact, surely I’d be turned to stone, like Medusa did to her victims. Heath was my Medusa. I focused on every other part of him, doing everything I could to avoid his eyes.
The waitress placed down two more drinks as Stacey and I objected.
“Drinks are on me tonight.” I looked to Heath, back to Stacey and then to Heath again. The waitress handed Stacey her credit card and receipt before walking away. “No need to say thank you.” He winked and walked away before I could say anything in return.
I felt like a total jerk. “That was awkward.” I glanced at Stacey, not sure how to reply. She pushed my drink toward me and took a swig of her own. “Might as well stay if he’s buying our drinks.”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant, Stacey.”
Laughing she said, “Well, that’s the impression I got. Bottoms up!”
A few hours later we were continuing to run up Heath’s tab. If he knew what we were doing he wasn’t objecting. Deciding to leave, Stacey and I weaved our arms together, stumbling toward the exit when Heath
Fucking Heathcliff Kerrigan.
Though everyone called him Heath for short. And he alone was the bane of my existence. Over six feet tall, he was sex on legs. With a hand in his pocket, the other ran through his shaggy hair, hair that was cropped close on the sides, but was long on top—the best of both worlds. The slick strands matched the color of his eyes, when not covered in gel. He pushed those dark strands aside, revealing his eyes; chocolate saucers that pulled you into their depths without even trying. A short beard covered a face so perfectly sculpted that it should be a crime. He wore a button-up shirt, unbuttoned on top, exposing just enough chest to make any hot blooded woman’s fingers itch. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his muscled forearms, and then his jeans... Jeans that looked like they were tailored specifically for him. And yes, I wanted to see what he had packing underneath his well-fit clothes and I hated myself for it.
“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. I thought that was you sitting over here.” I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the throb between my legs that had started the minute I saw him. Such a waste of man, sexy voice with a body to match, but the brain of an egomaniac. He was hot and he knew it. “All alone on a Friday night or you still pining away for me?”
“Aren’t you sweet?” I couldn’t bear to make eye contact with him—with those eyes that screamed ‘Fuck me’—and assumed he caught my sarcastic tone. “Believe it or not, I’m not pining. Pining would mean that I cared in the first place, Heath.”
“Right, if I was William it’d be a different story.” That caught my attention. He knew I had a soft spot for his twin brother, always had. “You know, to this day you’re still the only one who can consistently tell us apart? We can still fool our parents if we really want to.”
I didn’t need the reminder of why it was I was the one able to tell them apart. “Maybe because your mother’s books are more appealing than you are?” He narrowed his eyes at me as I continued. “You can’t fool me. Your hair is always a mess, too cocky for your own good, you never shave, and you will sleep with just about anything that walks. Well, as long as she’s not too brainy. I know how smart chicks dampen…” I looked to his crotch, “…things. And not in a good way.”
Stacey snorted, her laughter filling the small space between us all as Heath continued to stare me down.
He clutched his heart, like he was wounded. “Ouch.”
I could feel his eyes drilling into the side of my face, willing me to dare make eye contact once more. Don’t look, don’t look. If I made eye contact, surely I’d be turned to stone, like Medusa did to her victims. Heath was my Medusa. I focused on every other part of him, doing everything I could to avoid his eyes.
The waitress placed down two more drinks as Stacey and I objected.
“Drinks are on me tonight.” I looked to Heath, back to Stacey and then to Heath again. The waitress handed Stacey her credit card and receipt before walking away. “No need to say thank you.” He winked and walked away before I could say anything in return.
I felt like a total jerk. “That was awkward.” I glanced at Stacey, not sure how to reply. She pushed my drink toward me and took a swig of her own. “Might as well stay if he’s buying our drinks.”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant, Stacey.”
Laughing she said, “Well, that’s the impression I got. Bottoms up!”
A few hours later we were continuing to run up Heath’s tab. If he knew what we were doing he wasn’t objecting. Deciding to leave, Stacey and I weaved our arms together, stumbling toward the exit when Heath
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