NERO: Chapter 33

Pressing the lid onto Nero’s drink I try to decide what would be worse, having to call his name across the dining room or trying to catch his attention silently, but having to look at him.

Truly, it’s a lose-lose situation.

The decision is made for me when I glance up and find Nero staring right at me.

Freaking hell.

I can feel his gaze like a weight draped around my shoulders. It’s heavy and uncomfortable. And it makes me hate how good looking he is. It makes it all so much worse.

Here I am, barely-there makeup, plain gray shirt, hair in a not-so-cute messy bun, and an apron. Not exactly looking my best.

Nero says something to the other man at his table. The mayor. Because whatever it is that Nero does for a living, he knows the mayor. And the mayor knows him well enough to call him by name and make a comment about Nero being out late.

Considering how we met, I don’t really doubt him.

My internal thoughts distracted me, so I’m still holding the cup when Nero stops opposite me at the counter. It’d probably be weird now to set it down rather than hand it to him. So, reluctantly, I hold out the latte. One hand flat under the bottom of the cup, the other holding near the top, giving him plenty of space to take it from me without our hands touching.

He uses both of his hands to take the drink from me. His fingertips brushing against the backs of my hands as he does.

My teeth clamp down on my lower lip, biting back the pathetic sound that wants to crawl out of my throat. Refusing to let it free.

I want to feel his touch again, so badly. And I feel so weak for desiring something he clearly doesn’t want to give.

“Payton.” His voice is quiet, lowered so no one can hear him call me by name. “I––”

Whatever he’s about to say gets cut off when the front door is pushed open. Nero closes his mouth and takes a step back, distancing himself from me. Again.

I swallow. “Your food will be ready in a minute.”

He nods and goes back to his table.

When Jean shouts his name for his sandwich, I block out his movements as he rises to get it.

I pretend he’s not a dozen steps away while I help the next customer.

I tell myself that I’ll get over it, him, soon.

I’m busying myself by wiping down the coffee station when my phone vibrates from inside my apron pocket.

Mostly, I use my phone for entertainment. I don’t really have anyone, that isn’t working in this very café, who would call or text me.

With my brow scrunched together, I pull out my phone, seeing a text from an unknown number.

My eyes snap up. Nero is sitting at the table, with his phone in his hand. The Mayor busy on a phone call.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

The hurt coiled through my body starts to vibrate with anger, and I have to focus on the letters as I type out my reply.

I shove my phone back into my pocket.

You know what, this is good. I’d much rather be mad than sad.

My phone vibrates once more. And I manage to ignore it for a whole ten seconds before I take it out again.

Heat flares across my cheeks and I shove the phone back into my pocket.

I cannot believe he just said that.

And I refuse to admit that my thighs clenched when I read it.

Good news––I didn’t make it all up in my head, Nero is a real man, and we really did have sex.

Bad news––he’s a dick.

The front door opens again, giving me a distraction.

“Hey, Pay!” Carlton lifts one wiry arm as he walks the short distance to the register.

My heart does a quick succession of double beats. This feels bad.

“Hi, Carlton.” I try to greet him as normally as possible, even though my smile feels fake.

I don’t know why having him in the same room as Nero fills me with this sense of anxiety, but it does. It’s like watching one of those nature videos where the unsuspecting gazelle stands grazing in the field, unaware of the lion prowling in the grass behind him.

Carlton isn’t even a gazelle with super speed on his side though, he’s just a nice guy. The type of nice guy that would get chewed up and spit out by a man like Nero.

Unbidden, my mind conjures up an image of what it would’ve been like to give my virginity to Carlton.

It would’ve been sweet. And slow. A night probably filled with flowers and maybe a nice dinner. Probably wouldn’t have been messy and hard.

He wouldn’t have sat in the dark corner of my room while I slept.

He wouldn’t have tasted me like Nero did.

It would’ve been so different. And not at all what I wanted.

“Everything okay?” Carlton asks, breaking my daydream.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s just, uh, been a day.”

“I hear that. But…” He pauses, raising his brows conspiratorially. “I have something that might make your day better.”

“Oh yeah?” I try to stay focused on Carlton. Trying so hard not to look past his shoulder, but my eyes are drawn over, to see if Nero notices that someone is talking to me.

Nero definitely notices, because he’s glaring at the back of Carlton’s head.

“Yeah!” Carlton replies. “Because…” He uses his two pointer fingers to do a little drumroll on the countertop. “We got a gig opening for a band tonight! Like a real band! In a real venue!”

My mouth pulls into the first genuine smile of the day. “Really? That’s so cool!”

“Right!?” Carlton pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “So I need your number, then I can send you a ticket.”

“A ticket?”

“Don’t tell me you already forgot.” He shakes his head playfully. “You said you’d come watch us play. Remember?”

“Oh. Right.” I think about the hundred-dollar bill that Nero just gave me. I never thought I’d shy away from the sight of money, but now that he’s pretending like I don’t exist, it feels dirty to keep it. “I have some cash,” I offer, deciding that spending it on a concert ticket right now would be an easy way to get rid of it.

“Pssh.” Carlton waves his hand like he’s shooing a fly away. “You don’t have to pay. I was given a couple of freebies. But I gotta text you the ticket so you have it.”

I worry my lip.

A part of me feels like I shouldn’t take him up on it. But I did tell him I’d go. And I’ve never been to a concert before. And it’s not like Nero and I are dating, we’re too busy pretending like we don’t know each other.

Screw it.

I force my eyes to stay on the man in front of me and recite my number to Carlton as he types it into his phone.

I’ve barely finished saying the last digit when I feel my own phone vibrate.

He’s still tapping at something, but I pull my phone out, expecting to find the ticket.

I swallow, my mouth feeling suddenly dry.

Not a ticket.

I set my phone face down on the counter, feeling it vibrate as I do.

I don’t owe Nero an explanation. This is none of his business.

“Okay.” Carlton tips his phone toward mine on the counter. “Click on the link I sent you and it will open to your ticket. Then just show it at the main doors, and voila!”

My phone vibrates again, the sound amplified since it’s sitting on the hard surface, but I don’t look down. This time I’m sure it’s the ticket.

“Who––” I start, but the screech of a chair scraping across the floor makes me fumble the question. “Um, who’re you opening for?”

Carlton launches into a detailed background on the other band, but I’m not really listening. All my energy is focused on not watching Nero’s approach.

Nero is holding his phone in his hand when he stops uncomfortably close to Carlton. But Carlton is so deep in his story, he doesn’t even notice the unhappy man inches behind him. “––which is how we even heard about it,” he continues.

Nero’s fingers work swiftly across his phone screen.

My phone vibrates.

“––so Dan sent them a message on Insta—”

And vibrates again.

“––should be pretty killer. But we need to get there––”

And again.

“Do you need to get that?” Carlton gestures toward my phone.

I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

Then, cutting a look to Nero, I pick up my phone and slide it into my apron without looking at the screen. The muscle in his neck twitches a second before I feel my pocket vibrate with yet another text.

Luckily, Carlton takes me at my word, going back to telling me about their soundcheck, oblivious to Nero’s looming presence.

How did Nero get my number?

When did he get it?

Why did he never reach out before?

Why is he texting me now?

My pocket starts a new vibration pattern and I glance over to see Nero, with his phone pressed to his ear, eyes narrowed on me.

Is this man seriously calling me right now, while standing four feet away?

My fingers grope around in my pocket before I’m able to click the side button, effectively sending the call to voice mail.

I feel a small surge of victory. Which is swiftly crushed.

“Hey.” Nero’s voice directly behind Carlton, causes the smaller man to startle and look behind him. But all he sees is some guy in a suit talking loudly into a phone.

Leaving me a voice mail.

Nero’s eyes are on me. “I’ll be done with work early tonight. I’ll see you at home.”

Without adding more, Nero hangs up, then he turns his full focus to Carlton. “You done here?”

I feel myself holding my breath.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, man.” Carlton steps back and holds an arm out. “We’re just chatting, you can go ahead and order.”

Nero holds his stare. “I’ll wait.”