Page 17 of Peripheral Vision (Tethered in Darkness Duet #1)

Chapter

Eleven

DYLAN

Loud music greets me, The Walls by Chase Atlantic vibrating off of the walls as people everywhere mingle, their drinks spilling over the tops of their cups, and their voices trying to overpower the melody.

I catch sight of Callum’s curls at the end of the bar where he is tirelessly pouring drinks and ringing up tabs.

Another bartender, a tall woman with an intricate pattern of tattoos splaying the visible skin across her arms and neck, helps him.

He locks eyes with me as he turns back in my direction, a quick smile lighting up his face before he says something to the other bartender who glances at me before nodding.

He waves his hand at me to come over before grabbing a table that’s clearly been reserved for us.

As I draw near Callum, those seductive gray-blue orbs, like morning fog on a still lake, roam slowly up my figure before pausing on the exposed skin of my collarbone beneath the mesh.

He lets out a slow whistle, shaking his head back and forth. “You’re hired.”

“You sure? You don’t even want to vet me first? Not even a little bit? What if I was fired from a previous job because I spit in customers’ drinks?” I toy with him, sitting down.

“They probably deserved it.”

“What if I pocketed change from the drawer and got caught?” I test him.

He leans onto his fist, not backing down. “They should’ve paid you more.”

“And if I hooked up with a colleague?” I lift my eyebrow toward him in challenge as I take a drink from the water that had been graciously set on the table by the woman with the tattoos.

Something in his gaze darkens then, rising to it. “Oh, I look forward to it.”

Suddenly, I inhale the water I was drinking and start coughing on it, my eyes watering as I try to catch my breath and fail.

I pat my chest, trying to dislodge the invisible foreign body from my throat as he continues to regard me with general playfulness.

“I’m sorry?” I squeak out when I finally catch my breath.

“I think I’m going to enjoy making you flustered.

Let me see what else you brought.” His eyes flick to the table where I set my application and resume.

I hand it to him hesitatingly, knowing my resume is far from impressive, even for a bartending position.

We sit in silence for a few minutes while he looks over the information I provided. “Not much work experience?” he asks.

That is what I was worried about… “Military brat,” I admit. “A lot of the stipulations in our household were based on whether or not I kept my grades up and did sports. I chose not to do sports, so I was required to work in the summers only. But that never led to anything overly advantageous.”

“But you have taken a bartending course?” he probes.

“I never said I didn’t get bored.” I offer a sheepish smile.

He looks up, a thoughtful look upon his face. “I get it, I’ve met a few military brats who have similar experiences. I can appreciate the discipline. That counts for something. Not to mention you were bored and found a bartending course intriguing.”

My heart skips a beat at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks,” I murmur.

“Now, let’s ask the real questions,” he continues, his voice lowering slightly. There’s a glint to his eyes as he leans in a bit, the sudden change in his demeanor making the air between us crackle. “What’s your drink of choice?”

The corner of my mouth lifts in amusement. “I wondered when you were going to ask me that. How about we play a game?”

Intrigue lights his features as he asks, “What kind of game?”

“Two truths and a lie. If you guess the lie correctly, then not only will I have a drink with you, but you will also get to choose something else that you want from me.” I’m unsure if he will find this too childish.

I’m not even sure how old he is, but I think it would be a good chance to get to know a few things about each other.

“I’m fascinated. And will we be guessing for me as well?” he asks.

Thinking for a moment, I reply, “Sure. If you don’t get my lie correct then I will guess for you, and if I don’t get yours correct then we can go back and forth until one of us does.

Whoever wins gets the stipulation of their choice with an additional incentive.

For example, if I win, then…” Shit. What do I want?

I don’t know him well enough to choose something that feels remotely safe, the stakes suddenly feeling too high.

His hand brushes over my own. “If you win, then what?” he prompts. His tone is teasing but not overbearing, the lilt of his accent giving me the space to figure it out .

Exhaling, trying to play it cool, a mischievous smile tugs at my lips as an idea surfaces. “If I win, then you owe me a story. A good one. Something you’ve never told anyone else before. Deal?”

“I’ll bite. Game on.”

I pause, pondering what I’d like to ask him, the music changing as Closer by Nine Inch Nails starts. “Let’s see… I was born in Illinois, I’m an only child, and I have a collection of over one hundred postcards from different countries.”

Callum eyes me as he tries to decipher which statement is the lie before settling on, “Illinois.”

“No cigar,” I say while shaking my head no before giggling. “I don’t have that many postcards.”

“And here I was thinking that it was way too specific for it to be anything but the truth. Tricky, tricky, Dylan.” He runs his tongue over the top of his teeth.

“My turn I suppose. I have been to three different continents, I can play the guitar and have performed in front of the public before, and I play in a rec soccer league on the weekends.”

I lean back, crossing my legs as I consider his statement.

He has an aura that suggests he could play the guitar, a man with hidden talents.

He also has the body for someone who exercises regularly.

Given the slight British accent he is parading around as well, I’d guess that he has likely been to three continents.

Damn it. Giving it my best guess I say, “Soccer?”

“Men’s top rec league, actually, love. And while I can play the guitar, I’ve never performed in front of the public before. You’re on.” He winks at me.

I squint my eyes at him. “I feel like I’m being played right now. Hmm. I’ve been skydiving twice, I’ve never broken a bone in my life, and I’ve gotten a selfie with a world-famous rockstar.”

He drums his fingers along the table, the party around us really starting to pick up as the bar starts to get slammed.

The music seems like it gets louder too, a track that I don’t recognize playing.

“I think you’re lying about never breaking a bone.

A military brat like yourself? There is no way that you made it through childhood without at least one mishap.

Maybe a tumble out of a tree or off of a bike? A trampoline?”

His confidence is sexy… I’ll give him that. “Are you sure about that? Think carefully. What kind of kid do you think I was?”

He tilts his head, studying me with mock seriousness, like he’s trying to crack a riddle.

“You? Definitely a daredevil. Probably had a permanent layer of dirt on your knees and a collection of scars to match. Your parents wouldn’t have had it any other way.

” I wince at the mention of my parents, but he either doesn’t notice or is pretending to ignore my reaction to it.

Brushing it off, I shake my head slowly. “Final answer?”

“Final answer,” he says firmly.

I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand. “I have never broken a bone. Not once.”

His jaw drops, and for a moment I let myself bask in his surprise. “Now who is playing who?”

“Scouts honor. I might have had more near misses than I can count, but never a single fracture.” I hold up three fingers like a scout in a mock salute.

He narrows his eyes at me, but there is amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth as the competition gets ramped up a notch.

“Okay, but that means one of the other two is the lie. And now I’m doubting my amazing people reading abilities.

I could see you skydiving. But the selfie with a rockstar? ”

I shrug. “Your call, take your time. No pressure or anything. Not like the bar isn’t getting busy.”

The music shifts again into something more upbeat, the chatter of the party rising around us and he taps his fingers on the table again, indecision written on his face.

“Alright,” he says, pointing at me with a grin. “I’m calling it. It has to be the selfie.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “That one’s true.”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Wait, what? Who was it?”

“That is top secret information that is only to be revealed later in our friendship. But it’s one of my most fond memories.”

“If I win this, I’m asking for that as my story. You’re just full of little surprises, love.” I blush at the term of endearment again, unable to help the way I enjoy how it rolls off of his tongue.

“When you’re ready to throw in the towel, just tell me. I’ve got all night,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Not a chance. I’m turning this up a level. I have my pilot's license, I can fluently speak four languages, and I’ve been scuba diving with sharks.”

I rub my hand down the front of my jaw. “Now you’re just trying to show off.

If this is your way of getting me to like you, it just might be working,” I mumble under my breath.

But something in the way he is looking at me tells me I might have said that louder than I intended to.

I can feel my body heat with embarrassment.

“Four languages,” I say with resignation and doubt.

“Actually, it’s five: English, Spanish, French, Mandarin, and German. I definitely haven’t been scuba diving with sharks. I hate the ocean.” He shrugs with indifference.

I roll my eyes at him. “Humble brag. Fine. I’ve never been outside of the country I was born in, I’ve trained and ran a marathon, and I’ve seen the Northern Lights in person.”

“You’ve definitely been outside of the U.S.

You’re a military brat, and I imagine one of your parents was re-stationed a time or two.

And most people have a chance to see the Northern Lights in person depending on the time of year and the phenomenon going on, so you’ve never ran a marathon.

” He answers so quickly that I’m slightly taken aback.

There must be something written on my face because he adds, “Not that I don’t think you couldn’t.

You’ve definitely got the physique for it. ”

I realize that he thinks I must have been offended by his comment that I don’t run. “No, it’s not that—I just, you got it right.”

He slams his palms down on the table in celebration, causing me to jump.

“Better luck next time, love. It’s time to pay up though and it couldn’t have happened at a better time.

” He gestures to the packed bar. “First, you’re going to tell me what your drink of choice is so we can celebrate.

Then you’re going to hop that cute little ass behind the bar with me and give me a demonstration of your skill set. After that, I want your number.”

“That’s three things. I’m pretty sure we only agreed on two,” I point out.

“Oh, did I forget to mention? Your demoing is a part of your interview. But if you’d prefer to give me your number now, I’m open to it.” He stands up and digs in his pocket for his phone, handing it out to me with a smile.

I look at him with a question on my face. “You do realize you could just get my number from my application, right?”

His smile widens. “Getting it directly from the source is just so much more rewarding though. It means I get to watch you get flustered like you’ve never given it out before.”

“I’m not flustered,” I mutter, though the way his gaze lingers on me while I type my number into his phone makes it hard to believe myself. Even more so as I feel warmth crawling up my neck.

He leans a little closer, hand closing around my own where it’s on his phone. His voice lowers as if he’s sharing a secret. “Oh, I know you’re not flustered. You’re just… carefully calculating the best way to get rid of me without being rude, right? Easiest way to let down your future cohort?”

I laugh, despite myself, shaking my head. Because for the first time in a long time I actually find myself craving the company of someone else in a more… intimate manner. So I just say, “You're ridiculous.”

He shrugs, the playful glint in his eyes never fading. “Maybe. But I think you’ll find that I’m very persistent. Let’s go.” He extends his hand to me.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I want to give in just yet, before grabbing it. A deal is a deal, and I owe him answers.