Page 2 of Inevitable

“It would have burnt—” a young woman said quietly, but that only earned her an insult of her own as the chef whirled toward her.

“Shut up, Trish. Why don’t you go and overcook some steak? That’s all you’re—”

The rest of what the chef was going to say was drowned out by an earsplitting clatter as the dishwasher dropped the huge tray he’d been holding. Glasses and plates fell on the floor, smashing against the tiles, leaving the whole tray in shards.

“Oops,” the guy said tonelessly.

“Get out! You’re fucking fired,” the chef screamed. He was starting to turn purple from anger, but the dishwasher just shrugged as he pulled off his apron and gloves, dropped them on the mess on the floor, and walked straight out the door. The chef stormed after him, but then he noticed Drew and stopped short.

“Your last paycheck will pay for the damages,” he spat as he slammed the door shut.

Drew took a few steps back. The street was dim, so the other man didn’t notice him at first. He leaned against the wall and fished out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a long drag. His shoulders dropped as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

“Fuck.” The curse was barely more than a whisper, but the abject misery was as loud as a shot of a cannon.

Drew wasn’t sure what to do, but he was fairly certain sneaking out of there was a plan doomed to fail. He cleared his throat. The guy’s eyes snapped open, and his gaze landed straight on Drew.

He lifted one eyebrow in an impressive arch as he regarded Drew.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he finally asked. His voice was low and a bit scratchy. The kind of voice that was made to whisper the dirtiest thing in a lover’s ear.

It wasn’t only the man’s voice that caught Drew’s interest. Now that he had a better look, he realized that the whole goddamn package was downright sinful.

The man’s dark hair was a bit too long and messy. He was tall and wiry, and there was a grace in the way he moved. A lazy elegance, like he was a bored Victorian aristocrat. His long fingers were pale in the dim light of the night, and his face… Goddamn, it was a face to write poems about.

Sharp cheekbones contrasted with the soft, almost delicate curve of his mouth. Dark eyebrows made his eyes seem more intense. His nose was narrow, the tip slightly pointy.

He was beautiful, but there was something unconventional about his beauty. There was a wary harshness about it that, for a ridiculous moment, made Drew feel like hugging him.

The man arched his brow like he was throwing down an unspoken challenge. A spark of desire lit Drew’s insides, making it feel like he had firecrackers under his skin.

Drew nodded toward the lit cigarette. “Those things’ll kill you.”

“Oh? Well, disapproving stranger, that’ll certainly make me change my ways.” The man rolled his eyes and, keeping his gaze square on Drew, took a long drag from his cigarette. He blew the smoke out lazily as if daring Drew to do something about it.

The bratty attitude, the challenging arch of the man’s brow, and a slight mocking tilt of his head only made the want sharper, more defined, the edges of it clawing Drew’s insides like an animal trying to free itself.

“Bad night?” As far as conversation starters went, that was a particularly pathetic one. Bas would have laughed his ass off if he had witnessed Drew’s feeble attempt at flirting.

Flirting? Is that what I’m trying to do?

Drew took one more look at the man’s long-limbed form, slouched against the wall. Yes, he was definitely flirting. Or trying to, at least. He hadn’t felt that kind of pull in years.

Something about the other man made Drew feel decidedly out of his element. He usually had no trouble being charming and suave and getting what he wanted. Frankly, most times when he felt like spending the night with somebody, he didn’t have to really bother with flirting at all.

The guy just rolled his eyes as if the question had been too inane to warrant an answer. He finished his cigarette and stomped on it with the heel of his boot before straightening himself.

“Thanks for the conversation. It was really… something.”

The way the guy brushed against Drew as he passed could be nothing but intentional, and whatever the goal of that move was, it allowed Drew to get a whiff of the man. An intriguing mix of cigarette smoke and… summer. Drew swore he was losing it. That was the only reason for idiotic thoughts like those.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The words were out before he could think anything through.

The man turned around slowly and cocked his head to the side as he measured Drew slowly from top to bottom. Drew fought not to fidget. For the first time in forever, he desperately wanted to measure up to whatever qualifications and expectations this man in front of him had.

Drew knew he was good-looking. “Pretty as a Disney princess’s wet dream” was what Bas said when he wanted to tease.

Drew wasn’t cocky about his looks. It was more of an objective observation. But right then, standing there, waiting to find out if he was deemed adequate or not, he felt three feet tall.