Kiss Me When I Lie [ONC 2024]

6- Flighty Homeless Killer

~Kya~

The musician on the stage has a deep twang to his voice. Country almost, but not. He's singing a familiar song but I can't quite place it. It sounds good. Calle and the BeautyLipz gals are having fun dancing to it even though it's not a great song to dance to. It could have been in a movie I saw recently. Maybe that action film or was it on Netflix?

A hand touches my arm, and I turn my attention away from the stage and back to the Calvin Klein model. Ro or something. His eyes have an angry glint to them when he asks, "So? A drink?"

"I don't drink alcohol." The words just slipped out like vomit. My cheeks heat at his confused expression. He saw me drinking alcohol when I came in. "I mean...I don't let men buy me drinks. It's, you know, cliche. There's strings attached and all that."

"Strings attached?"

"Well, yeah. I'm not going to go to your place. You certainly aren't going to come to mine. Strings. Expectations. So, no, I don't want you to buy me a drink." There. That was mostly true.

The moment I saw him, I decided he wasn't for me. He is devilishly good-looking, sure. But a little too good-looking, you know? His long dark hair is perfectly styled and he's dressed in a suit that probably cost two months of my rent.

I prefer more laid-back men, the kind that can laugh at themselves and wear an ironic T-shirt every once in a while. Men like Officer Dimples or Tom Holland. Ro, however, looks like a bad-boy billionaire straight from a Wattpad novel.

Been there. Read that. No, thank you.

Well, I've never actually been there. But seriously, he'd probably want to set his clothes on fire and scrub himself down in the shower if he ever actually did step into my hell-hole apartment.

Dammit. Now I'm thinking about him naked.

"You're honest. I like that," he says silkily.

I laugh. He'll take that back real quick if he ever got a chance to know me. Which he won't, because I'm a relationship type of girl and this man is a player.

"How about an expectation-free drink? The only string is the momentary pleasure of your company," he offers.

I study him. He no longer looks angry, he looks amused. Great, I just gave the player a challenge.

But I like challenges too, and I'm pretty good at playing chicken. Small talk, not so much.

"Alright, fine. One drink, but I'll pay for it. I can pay for yours too, if you want. I have no qualms about placing other people in my debt."

He chuckles softly. His eyes light up when he says, "Sure, I'll owe you one. I'll take a bourbon. Neat."

"Does that mean no ice?"

He gives me a look, the same "are you an idiot?" look that my dad perfected when I was in high school. I shrug my shoulders. "What? I don't drink alcohol, remember?" His face twists in confusion.

I laugh. He's such a snob, and he'll figure out soon that we aren't compatible.

Instead of waving down the bartender, I go to her and order.

Calle approaches me while I wait for the drinks. She nudges me with her shoulder. "So, Ro is hot."

"Yeah, and he knows it too."

"You aren't interested?"

I shrug. "I'm buying him a drink."

"He looks like he can afford his own."

"He forgot his wallet."

She raises her eyes at me. "He had a drink earlier." She's gotten pretty good at knowing when I lie. Maybe she would actually make a good lawyer. She smirks. "I told you, plum lavender is your color. I expect to be given full credit at your million-dollar wedding."