I watch from my post at the bar as Jason and Kenzi get lost in each other’s arms. I don’t think they even notice when the song switches and the room changes tempo.
The sight of them does something to me. It feels like a fist around my heart, squeezing too hard, too fast. My pulse quickens, but it’s something else, too.
Comfort, maybe. It’s hard to tell—the sensation is so fucking foreign.
Maria takes a break and folds her elbows onto the bar beside me. Her eyes land on the pair on the dance floor. “Aw. That’s sweet.”
“What? The two of them?”
“No. The way you look at them.”
I scrunch my eyebrows and put my wineglass to my lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You should go. Dance with them.”
“Someone has to watch the drinks.”
“Mmhm,” she hums, clearly dubious. I feel her eyes scan me. “You are always taking care of other people.”
“It is my job. Literally.”
“If I may ask…when you are done taking care of everyone else, who takes care of you?”
“I’m self-sufficient,” I retort. “Like a cat.”
She shrugs. “Even cats need a scratch behind the ears every now and then.”
“Don’t make me cough up a hairball.”
She laughs. Then a customer calls her name on the far end of the bar, so she rises from her elbows. “Try to have some fun, Dr. Donovan,” she chides before she goes. “It won’t kill you.”
Won’t it?
Kenzi and Jason come back to the bar. Kenzi is breathless, her cheeks flushed. “How long do we have?”
“Under a minute.”
“Can we go outside?” she asks, her gaze bouncing between the two of us. “I’d love some fresh air.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” I swipe my leather jacket off the back of the barstool and slip into the sleeves.
