when they call my name

ch. 6

alexandria black

-

There's some kind of fog of darkness that swallows me whole when I get to work on Thursday. The evaporating smoke takes its time, as if the devil is pointing and laughing as if I am a circus dog. If there is one thing I take seriously, it is the things that lie still in the night.

Around four in the afternoon, the aroma of pine and cigarettes reminds me that he does quite frankly exist and is nearby. I look up for a moment to see him walking through the bar doors, dressed in his usual work attire of dark jeans and a white t-shirt that is too small for him. The short sleeves fit around his tattooed biceps tightly. Beautiful ink covering the entire length of his arm, down to his hand.

Christian clocks in and smiles. I go back to wiping down the counter in hopes to forget about my little nightly escapade when he comes up to me, "Hey Alexandria."

I almost don't look up to meet his gaze. "Hey?" I hate the way my real name sounds coming from him. I almost got used to the nickname.

He shifts his feet in one place. "Has it been busy at all?" He's looking at me like the other night never happened. Treating this conversation like we're talking about the damn weather.

Look at me.

I grin, bearing the hurt. "We don't call it Thirsty Thursday for nothing." I hide the nervousness with a laugh. Did he find someone else more worthy of his attention? I mean, what did I expect? Fantasizing about him would change what relationship doesn't exist?

He studies me, taking in what feels like every inch of me. "I'm a little hungry myself, actually."

I gesture to the bar top I'm standing beside. "Well happy hour is in like half an hour if you want to wait or-"

"Not that kind of hungry." He interrupts, his dark gaze not once blinking away.

My chest flips and comes to a halt. Knock it off. "What are you in the mood for then?"

Christian steps behind me, my back pressed to his firm chest. I scan the dining room for any sign of a customer needing assistance, but the afternoon stranglers seem occupied enough with what's in front of them.

Unable to form a proper response, he closed the gap between us even more. His finger traces the skin from my jaw to my ear, making its way to my hair. I am ice cold and liquid fire at the same time when he practically growls in my ear, "You."

My abdomen is pressing deeply into the bar top as my heartbeat picks up pace. I just might start sweating if he pushes me any deeper.

I start to squirm. "Christian, we're at work!"

He holds onto my waist tightly. "If you keep talking, we'll get caught." He runs his hand down my waist to my hips. "Fuck, I've missed you."

Is he only interested in my body? I haven't got the body of a Victoria Secret model or anything, and even though going to the gym twice a week has improved my physique, I have about the same body as every other college girl. Nothing special or sexy.

But his hands touching my skin ignites a fire in my stomach, desperate for more. I squirm again, creating both friction and to look around to see if anyone is watching. A part of me doesn't want to be away from Christian, especially after the night I had. In this moment, risking my job seems worth it to be in Christian's embrace.

He blocks any escape, nails digging into my skin. I bite my tongue to hide the sudden flick of pain, desperate more than ever to either run or stay. Any form of control is long gone.