Page 26 of Sunflower Persona (Classic City Romance #2)

Gage

“ C razy weather, am I right?” Nathan asks as he watches the rain pelt the front window.

The weather? Really?

I don’t even justify his comment with a response.

I’m sure he has better things to do at eight thirty on a Wednesday night—like work on his thesis or literally any of the half a dozen women in this bar—but he’s wasting it keeping me company.

The same way he has every night this week, and he ran out of actual things to talk about halfway through yesterday’s shift.

He hasn’t said it, but I know he’s waiting for me to melt down again over the whole Kori thing.

I’m fine.

Nothing in my life is different than it’s ever been.

I’m still just as alone as I was before she embedded herself in my life like a fucking thorn. It turns out roses aren’t the only flowers you need to watch out for. Who cares if the world feels even bleaker now without her petals in it? I’m sure I’ll adjust.

I drag a damp cloth over the bar top to give my hands something to do.

The damn thing is probably the cleanest it’s ever been with how many times I’ve wiped it down tonight, and it’s not like we’ve had enough customers to make a mess of it in between each pass.

But it’s something to do—and an excuse to ignore Nathan’s mother henning.

Soft, dreary rock drifts from the speakers, mixing with the steady battering of rain against the glass to echo my mood. The lack of patrons makes it even more depressing, but we have the weather to thank for that.

No customers. No tips. No joy.

It’s nothing less than I deserve.

Thunder crashes overhead as the door swings open and Karis steps inside, soaked to the bone and glowering like that fact personally offends her. She looks around the bar and shakes her head, spraying droplets of water into the air.

“Damn, this place is dead.”

I hand her a clean rag as she joins Nathan, but she ignores it, reaching over the counter and grabbing a glass to pour herself something from the tap like a goddamn heathen instead.

“Then why the fuck are you here?” I growl and drop the cloth beside her.

The last thing I need is both of them watching over me like I’m some sort of fragile child.

“Do I need an excuse to visit my best friend at work?”

The devilish grin on her face is evidence enough that she’s full of shit. Her eyes sparkle with mischief—a look I know and dread.

“Okay, what am I missing here?”

“Nothing,” she lies. “Like I said—”

Before she can finish her thought, I’m distracted by a flash of yellow by the door.

Hope dares to raise its useless head, but I sever it before it has a chance to grow.

There is no way Kori would be here; this place holds too many bad memories.

There’s no way she’d ever come back here—even before I ensured she was done with me.

Or so I thought. Because it is my sunflower who walks through the door, huddled underneath a splayed raincoat with Evelyn, dressed like sin, and giggling like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

I’ve never been simultaneously so relieved and so mad about being wrong.

What the hell is she doing here looking like all of my sweetest fantasies come to life?

A pathetic ache pulses through my center. Knowing she didn’t have nearly as much stake in whatever was brewing between us hurts. Not that I want to see her hurting—that’s the last thing I’d ever want—but her smiling face is a sharp reminder of my worth.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” I ask Karis.

“Maybe,” she says, and that shit-eating grin only grows.

God-fucking-damn her and her meddling.

“And you didn’t think to warn me?”

“Warn you about what? I don’t think what Kori does in her free time is any of your business.”

But her being in my bar is.

I grumble and swipe the rag along the slick wood with more force than needed.

“Karis,” Evelyn shouts and waves as she approaches us. “Can you put on something we can dance to? The vibe is wrong.”

“You heard the lady, put on some music they can dance to,” my friend tells me with a smirk.

I bite my tongue as I follow the command—I don’t have the energy to argue.

Evelyn always gets her way anyway, no matter how many times I tell her Cutter’s isn’t a dancing bar.

She gives me those big sad eyes, and I can’t help but bend to her wishes—especially if Karis gets involved.

If she wants to dance by herself in a shitty college bar, who am I to stop her?

Although I’m not sure how Yellow fits into all of this.

With Evelyn gone, she looks like she’s about to crawl out of her skin. What was Evelyn thinking bringing her here so soon? Add in the pressure of standing out against the crowd, and I know my girl is going to shut down. But I’m proud of her for trying. Even if she won’t look in my direction.

“Hold on,” I tell Evelyn before she can slip away. “Take a bit of liquid courage.”

I mix together a quick vodka and lemonade and pour it into two glasses for the girls. It’s not as complex or sweet as the other drinks I’ve made her, but hopefully, Kori will like it nonetheless.

She scowls at me but accepts the drinks before sauntering away with a rhythmic sway to her hips, moving back to where she left Kori on her makeshift dance floor. Once she is no longer alone, Yellow’s antsy energy fades.

Maybe I didn’t give her enough credit.

Based on the downright dirty looks I’m getting from the normally shy woman, Evelyn heard about what went down. We might as well call James and tell her, too, so the whole group knows how much of a fuckup I am.

The door swings open again, and I let out a string of curses.

Speak of the she-devil…

She walks through the door with Morgan in tow. She beelines for the girls, leaving her boyfriend on his own by the door.

He gives me a sheepish smile as he approaches and sits on one of the ratty stools.

“Let me guess, Evelyn was involved,” I say while I grab a bottle of his favorite beer and place it in front of him.

“Yup. James said something about showing a certain bartender what he’s missing out on.”

I groan and drop my head back to look at the ceiling.

Like I need any reminders. Bubbling laughter draws my focus back toward the women.

The sight is nothing new to me. After a few drinks, Evelyn begs anyone who will listen to dance with her.

But seeing Kori added to the mix, laughing with a smile on her face, builds uncomfortable pressure in my chest. Don’t get me wrong, she’s awful at it.

Her limbs move awkwardly off beat, which is even more pronounced when contrasted with Evelyn’s natural grace.

But that smile—carefree and unfiltered—I don’t think I’ve seen anything more beautiful.

I’m not the only awestruck idiot ensnared by the trio’s bold display.

Karis and Morgan watch the girls move with intense heat in their eyes, and that hungry expression is mirrored on the face of every hot-blooded man in this bar.

Which isn’t saying much given the current occupancy, but the point still stands.

Nathan is the only one not affected. It’s not that he doesn’t look at them.

But his gaze is more watchful than lustful; he’s a sentry, not a suitor.

Because of that, he notices the pair of men approach them before I do. They are young, almost certainly still in undergrad, and carry themselves with more confidence than is warranted. At that age, they all act like the world can’t touch them. I know I did.

Nathan’s spine stiffens as the cocky kids orbit the girls, keeping their distance but making their attention known. He leans forward with a scowl, his eyes narrowing on the pair.

It hits me hard that, once again, my best friend is paying closer attention to my girl than I am.

Dread pools in my gut as the two fuckers hype each other up, building up the courage to make an introduction. After several seconds, one takes the plunge, and my dread turns to ice when he approaches Kori.

The only thing that keeps me behind the bar is he doesn’t touch her.

Fuck me if he isn’t actually respectful in the way he catches her attention.

This is worse than if he had been a dick about it.

Then I’d have a reason to intervene. Instead, I’m forced to watch as this bashful idiot tries to flirt with my woman and, worse yet, as she doesn’t push him away.

Come on, Yellow. You know you’re too good for him.

Or she doesn’t, because she laughs at something he says, and twists a long braid between her fingers.

“Are you seriously going to sit here and watch this?” Nathan snaps at me.

“What would you have me do?”

“Step in there and make it known that she’s yours.”

“She isn’t mine.”

“Whatever, man.”

He goes back to scowling at the kid flirting with Kori, and I’m sure my facial expression isn’t much better. Every smile he pulls from her lips is another nail in my already ravaged heart, but I welcome the pain. It’s what I’m owed.

The kid says something that makes Kori’s face pinch for a brief second before her expression hardens into resolve and she nods.

And then the motherfucker touches her.

He places a hand on her waist and steps in closer. She fumbles with her hands for a second before placing them on his chest, and then they start to sway together without any regard for the beat.

I’m sure they would have figured it out eventually, but I don’t give them the chance.

The second he touches her, rational Gage gets shoved into the passenger seat while the need to stake my claim takes over. Nathan scoffs and mumbles a quiet “of course” under his breath when I dart out from behind the bar, but he falls in step beside me as I stalk across the room toward the girls.

I resist the urge to rip his slimy hands from her, tapping him on the shoulder instead, and when he turns, I growl out two simple words. “Hands off.”

His arms are in the air in an instant as he takes a large step away from my girl.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t realize she was taken. My bad.” He doesn’t wait for my response before scampering off with his friend.