Chapter 2 02

Chapter 2:

"It's like he's staring into my soul..." I gushed, my voice barely above a whisper. My breath quickened, and I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. My mind, unfortunately, was filled with far too many naughty thoughts-my brain was swirling with images of his tongue and wondering where I could possibly put it, or how I could use it in ways I shouldn't be thinking about right now.

"Or mentally undressing you," Amanda muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for the next distraction. She was half-drunk, but her words still made me freeze. Damn her for always being so spot on when it came to anything remotely flirtatious.

"Go talk to him! Don't be a pussy, think with it," Yvette chimed in, elbowing me in the ribs with a mischievous grin that made me want to both punch her and kiss her. She always knew how to push my buttons-whether it was with her devilish sense of humor or her complete lack of fear.

I shook my head frantically. "You don't understand, he's scary." The words came out in a rush, and I instantly regretted them. Was I really going to let these two push me into making a complete fool of myself? He was terrifying in ways that were hard to describe. At the office, he was all sharp edges and cold eyes, gruff and unapproachable, as if he was untouchable. And now, here, in this chaotic bar, he seemed even more intimidating, like a predator watching his prey.

Would he be nice to me? Or would he crush me under his indifference? The uncertainty was enough to make my hands clammy and my heart race. This wasn't just an ordinary conversation I was about to have. This was a chance to either crawl into his world or be shut out entirely.

Yvette's sly grin only widened as she leaned in closer. "Go over there and show him a little Mercy," she teased, the play on my name rolling off her tongue like she thought she was some kind of genius.

I rolled my eyes, feeling the weight of her words. Curse my parents for naming me something so ridiculous. I was practically destined for moments like this, where people used it as an excuse to poke fun at me. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"Oh-sooooo clever," Amanda squealed with pleasure, sipping her Cosmo like she was auditioning for some movie role about an overly excited college girl. "Ya get it, Mer, mereccyy!!" She giggled and did a little shimmy in her seat, putting a finger over her lips in some attempt at being cute. But the combination of alcohol and excitement made her look less 'adorable' and more 'unhinged.'

The clink of ice in my glass echoed through my skull as I let out a frustrated sigh. "No, nu-huh, I can't. I don't even have a reason... plus, he looks like he wants to be alone." I gestured in his direction, hoping they'd see that I was making sense. The man hadn't moved in ages. His thick fingers were wrapped around a half-empty glass of whiskey, and his head was resting against the bar as if he had given up on the world.

And yet, there was still something magnetic about him. Something that pulled me toward him even as I tried to convince myself to turn away. Was he just being brooding and moody, or was he really as lonely as I felt right now? My thoughts were bouncing around, each one more irrational than the last.

"Yvette, seriously. No one has a shot with him. Look at him!" I pointed dramatically at him, hoping to make my case. He hadn't moved since I'd first laid eyes on him, and the only sign that he was still alive was the faint rise and fall of his back as he breathed.

Yvette was having none of it. She reached over and grabbed my half-finished drink, not even asking for permission, and poured the remaining liquid down her throat in one swift gulp like a greedy baby at the tit.

"You have a reason now," she said with a wicked grin, setting the empty glass back down in front of me. She didn't even pretend to look guilty. "You're all empty! Go get a refill."

I glared at her, as if shooting daggers into her flirtatious soul would somehow make her stop. "I hate when you vicariously live through me," I grumbled, pushing myself out of the booth. The thought of me walking up to C.J. Cole, this infuriatingly handsome and distant man, was almost laughable. The idea of him paying any attention to me was absurd.

"Fat chance in hell with C.J. fucking Cole," I muttered under my breath as I stood up, trying to shake the image of my ridiculous self out of my mind. If I couldn't even get a decent conversation going with him, what on earth made me think I could get anything else?

But there was no going back now. Yvette's words echoed in my head as I made my way toward the bar, each step heavier than the last. It was almost like I was walking to my doom, and part of me felt like maybe I deserved whatever humiliation was coming my way.

"Don't hold your breath," I mumbled under my breath, wishing I could retract my earlier statement about 'emptying' my drink. The last thing I needed was to get tangled in the mess that was C.J. Cole. But as I got closer, I could feel the pull, a weight pressing against me that I couldn't explain.

C.J. was sitting there, looking as imposing as ever. He was positioned on a bar stool with an air of detachment, like nothing in this world could even come close to reaching him. The lack of any other souls around him made the moment feel even more private, like I was intruding on a space I had no business being in.

God, no witnesses. Please, no witnesses.

I stopped just short of the bar, trying to steady my breathing. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my palms were clammy, but I had to do this. It was now or never. If I turned back, I'd never forgive myself.

I stood there for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. My legs felt like jelly, and my mouth had gone dry. This was it. This was the moment I would either make a fool of myself or break through the steel wall he'd built around himself. It didn't matter how I felt anymore. It didn't matter that I was scared out of my mind. This was my chance.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something-anything-to break the silence. But the words that came out were far more nervous than I intended.

"Uh... C.C... um... Cole?" I stammered, my voice faltering like I was an untrained dog begging for a treat. I winced as soon as the name left my lips, mentally cursing myself. That had been the worst introduction ever.

But when his eyes flicked up to meet mine, cold and calculating, something inside me froze. His gaze was sharp, assessing, as if he were deciding whether or not I was worth his time.

And for a brief moment, I wondered if maybe-just maybe-I had made a huge mistake