Free Christmas Crush by S.C. Wynne

CHRISTMAS
CRUSH
     
    Romance on the Go TM
     
    S.C.
Wynne
     
    Copyright
© 2013
     
     
     
    This place was so not me. The bass from the music boomed
loud enough I feared my ear drums were bleeding. How the hell I let myself get
talked into a blind date was beyond me. Yet here I sat, stuck at The Fuzzy
Palace on Christmas Eve for at least another half hour. Maybe I’d get lucky and
he wouldn’t show up.
    I caught my reflection in the beveled mirrors
surrounding the dance floor. Jesus, I looked like a scared rabbit. I’d let
Grace talk me into using product in my hair, and I almost didn’t recognize my
spiky blond reflection. And I appeared over dressed for this place. My white
button down and khaki pants made me look like I sold office supplies.
    The mass of sweaty guys grinding against each other
on the dance floor didn’t seem to notice me. I sipped my gin and tonic, huddled
on my bar stool, and hoped no one spoke to me. That way I’d be able to leave
and go back to my safe apartment. I wish I’d never abandoned my books, and
movies for this mind-numbing nonsense.
    I made the mistake of looking up. A slender guy, mid-twenties,
watched me with eyes glittering black in the pulsing light. He looked like a
model in a form-fitting double breasted red hoodie, and dark slim jeans. He had
razor cut, straight, jet black hair. It struck me he looked like an anime
character. My sister Grace loved that crap. If he wasn’t in a gay bar scoping
me out, maybe I’d have introduced them.
    He was popular. Every few minutes, guys stopped and chatted him up. He smiled and talked with them, but stayed
put. Drinks piled up in front of him, courtesy of all the horny guys looking
for a Christmas lay.
    I squinted toward the entrance, the glare of the
neon lights hurting my eyes. Please don’t
let him show, please. I just want to get the hell out of here.
    Somebody bumped into me, spilling half my drink down
my pant leg. I grabbed a handful of napkins and jabbed at the spreading stain.
I scowled at the big lumbering moron who’d run into me.
      “Sorry, dude.”
He patted me on the back.
      “It’s fine.”
What could I say? He was huge.
    “Let me buy you another.”
    “No, thank you.”
      He leaned in
only inches from my face. His breath smelled one hundred proof and I leaned away, trying to breathe out of the side of my mouth.
    “Hey, you’re kind of cute.”
    A flush heated my cheeks. “Thank you, I guess?”
    “Pretty eyes.”
    Fuck.
What was I, an exhibit?
    “Just the eyes I was born with.” I tried my best to
look anywhere but directly at him.
    He let out a loud guffaw, and I winced.
    “Funny and cute.”
    I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to risk being
funny again. I studied the dance floor, trying to appear disinterested in my
new friend so he’d go away. He didn’t.
    “You want to go out back and have a little fun?” He
made crude thrusting motions with his hips.
    Oh
God, no. That
was in my head. Out loud I tried to be more tactful.“No, thank you.”
    “Hey, buddy, look at me.”
      I did as he
requested. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to see. He had brown, bloodshot
eyes, a large fleshy nose, and thin lips. His shaved head, and little black goatee gave him the appearance of what I assumed the devil
looked like. He wore a yellow tank top, and both meaty arms were covered with
tattoos. To say he wasn’t my type would be an understatement.
    “You seem a little snooty,” he said, sounding
irritated.
      I had a hard
time getting my head around the fact that this giant man, surrounded by a room
full of panting, eager bodies, decided to zero in on me. I was the one guy in
the room who didn’t want to be here, and this lumberjack stumbled onto me . Grace was dead meat next time I saw
her.
    I pointed toward my neck, and whispered, “Sore
throat.”
    “Blowing too many guys?” He guffawed again, slapping
me on the back.
    I did my best to look like I found him hysterical. I
felt a little hysterical