Chapter 8: CLUMSY GIRL

The moment Damon Bass locked eyes with me from across the bar, I felt the air shift. Not the fun, flirty kind of shift you get when someone cute notices you. No, this was the kind that makes your stomach flip like you’ve swallowed a live fish. Naturally, I did the only logical thing: I spun around so fast I might have given myself whiplash and stared at Aiden, desperate for a distraction.

Aiden, of course, noticed. He noticed everything. His eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a knowing smirk as he leaned back against his chair. "You like him, huh?"

I scoffed so hard I nearly inhaled my drink. "No, I don’t. I think he’s a client from work. Not just a regular, though. A VIP. And he’s… odd."

"Odd?" Aiden tilted his head, feigning interest.

"Yes. Odd. Like… mysterious. You know, the kind of odd that’s unsettling and fascinating at the same time." I was rambling. Of course I was rambling. "And I might have shaken his hand when he was just asking for his ID back, which was awkward. So maybe I’m the odd one. It’s fine."

Aiden’s smirk grew. "Well, I think he likes you."

"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes. "He doesn’t even know me."

"Doesn’t he?" Aiden gestured casually with his drink, and I followed the direction of his finger like a moth to a flame. Sure enough, Damon’s gaze was still pinned to me.

I whipped back around, my face practically on fire. "You couldn’t warn me he was still looking?"

Aiden chuckled, thoroughly entertained. "Go talk to him."

"What? No!"

"Why not?" He leaned in, his smirk devilishly contagious.

"Because he’s… way out of my league," I said, trying not to sound as defeated as I felt. "He looks like the kind of guy who steps out of a billionaire romance movie."

Aiden nodded sagely. "True. But that shouldn’t stop you."

"Thanks for the confidence boost," I deadpanned.

"What do you have to lose, Tiny?" he asked, using the nickname he’d given me in high school.

"Pride. Dignity. My sense of self," I listed off.

Aiden shrugged. "Minor sacrifices. You wanted to stop being a good girl, didn’t you? Find love and all that? This could be your chance."

His words hung in the air, circling me like hawks. I opened my mouth to argue, but then Anika, with her perfectly arched eyebrows and designer disdain, chimed in.

"Once a prude, always a prude," she sneered, swirling her cocktail like a villain in a soap opera.

And that was it. My pride might have been fragile, but it was still there. Without thinking, I grabbed my drink and downed it in one go. The burn of the alcohol was immediate, followed by a rush of something that felt suspiciously like courage.

I stood, meeting Aiden’s gaze. His expression softened for a split second before returning to its usual teasing demeanor. But then… a flash. A memory of his lips on mine. Soft, firm, unexpected. I shoved it away, locking it deep in the "never think about this again" vault in my brain.

I wasn’t doing this for him. I was doing this to prove Anika wrong—and maybe a little for me, too.

With my head held high and my steps a little too light—thank you, alcohol—I made my way toward the bar. Except… I didn’t exactly make it. Because as I approached, I completely missed the step up to the bar and… tripped. Forward. Into Damon Bass.

His drink went flying, and I landed squarely against his very solid chest. For a moment, all I could process was his scent—woody and rich, like a forest after rain. Then came the shame. It hit hard, like a slap to the face.

"You’re really one clumsy girl, aren’t you?" His voice was deep, low, and grumbly—the kind of voice you’d expect from someone narrating a gritty crime drama.

I scrambled to straighten myself, smoothing my dress as if that would erase the humiliation. "I didn’t see the step. And I’m not clumsy," I said in a rush, the words tumbling out in a chaotic mess.

Damon’s lips quirked into a smirk, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Clumsy."

My mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. "You know what? Fine. Think I’m clumsy. Whatever. I’m not going to argue with you."

"And you’re a rambler, too. Interesting."

I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Instead, I turned to leave, determined to salvage what little dignity I had left. But Damon’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around my wrist.

"You were coming up here for a reason," he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. "You’re not going to abandon that just because you’re a little embarrassed, are you?"

I glanced down at his hand, then back up at him. His gaze was steady, challenging. I yanked my wrist free, my pulse thrumming. "Maybe I am," I said, my voice defiant and turning around to leave

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Cheryl Taylor."

His words chased me as I walked—no, power-walked—back to my seat. My cheeks were burning, my mind racing.

That was when I realized that he knew my name. How did he know my name? I had never told him my name

I risked a glance back toward the bar, but Damon was gone. Vanished, like a ghost in the night. I sank into my seat, my heart still hammering. Aiden was watching me, his expression somewhere between amused and concerned.

"Well?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Well, what?" I snapped.

"Did you prove Anika wrong?"

I glanced over at Anika, who was pretending not to watch but definitely was. Then I looked back at Aiden, my mind still spinning. "I… think I just made things worse."

He grinned. "Sounds like progress to me."