Page 2 of The Bleeding Hearts Club

He just stares.

My brows furrow as I watch him. Is he not going to say anything? This guy just knocks me into next Thursday, spills a hot ass coffee on my tits, and stares at me like someone told him the world is ending tomorrow, and he’s not going to say anything?

I should’ve never left my fucking bat cave.

“I–I love you. What–No, not I love you. Why would I love you? Not that I’m sure you aren’t a lovely person, but like I don’t know you. You could be a dick. Not that I’m saying you’re a dick, or have one, cause, like, I mean,” he stares pointedly at my tits, “but, like if you do, that’s cool too, but you have to have a fucking phenomenal plastic surgeon cause wow, but–Wait. No sorry, I didn’t mean that. Wait–No I didn’t mean that I didn’t mean that you are pretty and–”

Now I’m staring at him, eyes wide, mouth gaped.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I am so sorry. I–uhh, can I get you some towels? Yeah, yeah, napkins or something.” He grasps my hand tighter pulling me behind him as he walks through the food court toward the bathroom. We’re dodging and weaving traffic like cars in action movies. This guy is quick on his feet. It’s almost like he can predict the movement the people passing make before it happens.

We’re ten feet from the men’s restroom when I realize he’s not slowing down.

“Hey, wait. Wait!” He stops abruptly causing me to slam into him again, but his hold on my arm keeps me from hitting my ass.

“Dude, seriously, can you stop that?” I rub at the sore spot on my forehead where I crashed into his back.

“Are you okay? Was I pulling too hard? Going too fast?”

“You can’t just drag people around the damn place just cause you feel like it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He looks so innocent. There’s a glimmer of remorse in his eyes.

“It’s,” I sigh, “It’s okay. I was trying to rush to make my flight, but well, I’m clearly kind of fucked now, so, I wanted to get breakfast before trying to get my ticket exchanged for a later flight, but that guy back there wasn’t watching where the fuck he was walking.” I yelled the last part rolling my eyes, releasing another deep sigh. “I tried to move out of the way before he hit me, but I ended up hitting you.” I huff a strand of hair out of my face. Pinching the skin on the bridge of my nose, I exhale slowly.

Yes. I hit him. He was just as much a casualty as me. I stepped into his path. He’s not an asshole.

“I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I mean, if that’s what you thought. I don’t make it a point to trample people.” His lips tug into a small grin.

Of fucking course he has a dimple.

“I’ve got it from here. Thank you for trying to help. I’m sorry if I held you from what you needed to get done. I’m just going to get cleaned up, maybe cry, and get something deep fried and covered with chocolate.” I grimaced at myself but pushed past him to the women’s restroom.

“Wait–” but the door shuts, cutting him off.

What the fuck was that, Mina? Word vomit much?

It’s the stress. I’m just out of sorts. Losing my damn mind.

Are you sure that’s all?

I mean, yeah. What else would it be?

He had nice hands.

Yeah, okay. Objectively.

He was kind of cute too. In that puppy-dog, precious cinnamon roll way.

I–maybe. I suppose.

And you haven’t interacted with a guy, let alone a cute one, in a very long time.

Okay, me, you can shut the fuck up now.

Maybe, this trip is exactly what you need, Mina.