8 Not A Stranger

[Eight Weeks Ago]

Kimberly was seated across the bar in her favorite club. Scratch that, their favorite club, drowning herself and cursing her stupid heart for falling once again for the wrong man.

There she was nursing her broken heart when he walked in, sea blue eyes, dark hair, fine-set lips and a smile she found both charming and annoying.

"That seat is taken." She sternly drawled, when he slipped onto the seat by her side without asking if it was free. Another damned flaw about the male specie. Dominance.

"Is it?" He raised an eyebrow that seemed well carved and nourished to have its hair flow in a pattern despite being thick and dark.

"Yes." She firmly replied, and he revealed a smile that made his eyes tingle as he settled perfectly into the seat like she hadn't just said something about it being taken. His eyes awkwardly stared at her, and that riled up her already peeved mood.

"Why aren't you leaving? And why are you smiling at me?" Kimberly demanded, albeit drunkenly.

Her hands suddenly itched to scratch off the dirty smirk that curved up his lips, and which she found irritating. However, she didn't know if it was irritating because she found it annoyingly beautiful, or because she was too drunk to tell anything apart.

She was nursing her fourth glass of martini, one she could swear has been watered down by the bartender, who was stealthily playing chaperone.

He leaned forward, but not too close, his eyes keenly locked on hers like he was searching for the deep secrets and sadness that lurked in her heart.

Her brows narrowed when she saw his fingers inching towards her, and she swiftly slapped it away.

Fiesty and Interesting, he mused. Just like her forest green eyes. Chuckling, he leaned back against the low-back of the stool.

He turned to the bartender. "Bourbon on the rocks," he ordered and the bartender quickly served him.

Kimberly watched him with eyes narrowed with suspicion as he picked up his glass and turned back towards her. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm in need of company." He casually said.

"I'm not a whore." She finely stared with a drawl, her eyes instantly drawing into slits.

"Never said you are." He slowly sipped from his glass, his sea-blue eyes fixedly locked on hers.

"I just wanted to talk, and who better to talk to than someone who's also in need of company." He gently spoke as he set down the glass.

His voice sounded so soft and seductively soothing. Or maybe it was the alcohol. It had to be. She told herself as her eyes follow his tongue as they licked the remnant of the drink that stained his lips.

"I'm not in need of company." She firmly declared as her droopy eyes formed whatever glare they could manage, while he sighed resignedly. And she had no interest whatsoever for what he had to say.

"Too bad. But if you don't want mine, I sincerely want yours. You must agree drinking alone in a club doesn't make the pain go away. Rather it makes us want to wail out the grief away even if it will only make us target for predators."

'Predators?' Her brows arched as she fully turned towards him. "Who are you? Tell me why you're here?" She demanded.

His lips tipped up, revealing how dangerously handsome he could look when he smiled. "Nicholas," he said. "And I'm here because I think we could both live through this night with glasses of whiskey in our hands and imagine being better people by morning."

Kimberly silently watched him talk. The way his thin heart-shaped lips moved in accordance with his aquamarine eyes as they livened every word that he spoke was something she hadn't quite seen before.

His perfectly chiseled chin and jaw defined his beauty. His dark brown hair tipped over the side of his face, giving him a dangerous boyish look. A look that told her he was another heartbreaker.

"I'm not lonely, and I don't talk to strangers. So please find yourself another prey." She said dismissively.

"You can barely call me a stranger as you already know my name."

"Do I now?" She wryly scoffed.

Nicholas amusedly chuckled, but Kimberly found the soft rumble of his deep-throat voice soothing and somewhat arousing. Again it was the alcohol, she reminded herself. She wasn't supposed to find a guy appealing, not while she was there nursing a broken heart.

Nick lolled back on the backrest and picked up his glass, his eyes not leaving her for a split second. "What's the name?" He asked, and Kimberly cautiously stared at him.

"You must see yourself as a charmer?"

"Absolutely not." Nick answered with a shake of his head. "I just think if we're going to spend this night talking about how fucked up this world is, I don't want to address you as miss stranger. So tell me, what should I call my partner for the night." He smoothly asked.

Kimberly hesitated for a good few seconds. "Kimberly." She told him.

She watched as he yet threw another smile at her, one different from the others she had seen on his face since he sat next to her.

"You didn't disappoint me, Kim. It sure suits you well." He said with a smile. "Now, tell me, Kim, why is a beauty like you sitting alone with the world resting on your shoulders? Just another bad day with your horrible boss or a heartbreak that hurts like hell?"

"Which do you think?" She indulgingly inquired, taking a sip from her glass.

Nicholas silently pondered for a while before giving his answer. "Definitely a scumbag who didn't deserve a woman like you."

He was flirting with her. "And if you're right, what will you do?" Kimberly heard herself asking, even though she had no idea where she was headed with that question.

Shrugging, he replied. "I'll let you cuss, and I'll throw in some thesaurus of the word jerk when you run out of what to say. So you can start with crazy," he said. "Scumbag is also a good start." He added, his lips desperately trying to hold back a smile.

Kimberly gazed at him, and she couldn't help the chuckle that broke through her lips. It wasn't the words that amused her, but how he said them. There was a way he said every word that seemed entrapping. That made her want to listen.

"You sure must know how to cuss, don't you?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I get paid for it?"

"Absolutely not." She picked her glass to hide the smile forming on her lips, and the blush warming her cheeks.

"You'd be amused by the crazy things I get paid for." He smiled. "Now, tell me why a beautiful lady is sulking with alcohol on such a beautiful night."

Kimberly had no idea how he'd done it, but she found herself chuckling and laughing at every joke he made after that. But not only did his jokes warm her up, his smiles also did. Or maybe it was just the alcohol warming her up and spilling the idea of making a move on those lips of his.

"For a heartbroken girl, you smile too pretty." He suddenly said, his voice turning low and sounding mellifluous.

Kimberly felt her cheeks flush, but she was sure he couldn't tell, because they were already red from the alcohol she had been drinking. "It must be the alcohol." She said, and he nodded to that.

"Indeed, it must be." He agreed with her, but not with himself. He was very much sober — sober enough to know he shouldn't take advantage of her vulnerability. She was drunk from the empty glasses of martini in front of her. But somehow he was intoxicated enough to want her.