Chapter 6

SIX

I t's Saturday, which means no classes, so I find myself walking in the park. I hold my camera, ready to capture any good shots. I need to build my portfolio, and I prefer to take pictures of people, but good models are hard to find. Either they are awkward in front of the camera or full of themselves. I prefer taking natural shots, capturing the essence of people. I smile as I take a photo of a man kneeling before his wife, tying her shoe as she blushes, and then there's the one of a kid feeding a duck. I can't stop snapping as the sun shines down, trying to capture the beauty in this world when there is so much darkness.

I lift my viewfinder, turning around to find a new subject, when a tattooed hand covers it. Dropping my camera, I stumble back when I see Alek Anders towering before me. "What the fuck?" I sigh. "Are you stalking me now?"

"Taking pictures of people without consent is illegal, you know."

"As is stalking," I retort.

"I wasn't stalking you, rich boy. I was walking to work and saw you being a weirdo." He crosses his arms, and I almost drool at the muscles bunching in his biceps. His eyes narrow when he sees me staring .

"You're working on a Saturday?" I ask.

"Not everyone gets to play all weekend," he snaps. "Some of us have bills to pay that our parents don't cover."

"Who said my parents cover my bills?" I ask, feeling annoyed. "You know nothing about me, Anders, so just head to work where I'm sure you terrify every single customer."

"I'm nice to everyone else." He smirks his lips tilting tauntingly, and I hate myself for wanting to taste them.

It really isn't fair how attractive this man is without even trying. "Lucky me," I mutter, and I walk away, lifting my camera to take pictures.

"I mean it, get consent," he calls, always having to have the last word.

Lifting the viewfinder with a mischievous smirk, I take his picture as he walks away. He stills as a dog runs up to him, and despite his intimidating exterior and constant frown, he bends down to the fluffy ball of happiness, a rare smile on his lips as he pets it. I snap a picture. Like he feels it, he swings his gaze to me, and I quickly turn away.

I try to forget all about Alek Anders as I take pictures, but hours later, I give up and head to work. Despite what he thinks, I also have a job. My scholarship covers a lot, but I still need money to live on.

I haven't been there long, and I don't want to make a bad impression, so I arrive at the café early and change. I immediately loved this place. Deadly Sweet is totally my vibe, with art covering every wall. There is an internet side to the left where people game and compete, and to the right is a more traditional café, but it's very modern, and pretty much every waiter here is an artist of some kind—oh, and male since it's a hot waiter café. I straighten the frills on my shirt and tuck the back into my pants. Checking my hair, I smudge my eyeliner and head out to get started.

The customers are mostly college girls, which suits me just fine. I get paid to flirt for hours, and the tips are great.

Hours later, I'm bent over a table, clearing, when I feel someone behind me .

"Be right there," I call since I'm also working the counter, but when I straighten and turn, I almost groan.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You are everywhere I turn," snaps an angry voice.

Alek Anders.

"I work here, asshole. What about you? Didn't know you were into hot waiters," I snark.

"Wait, what?" He swings his gaze to his sister, who giggles at his side. "You said you knew a nice place."

"I do, this one." She grins at me. "Looking good, Evan. The frills really suit you."

"So I'm told." I smirk as I clear the table and step past him, looking him over. He looks so out of place and uncomfortable. "Find an empty table or leave like we both know you want to. Your fragile masculinity can't handle it."

I head to the back, cleaning the plates, and when I come out, I'm surprised to see him sitting stiffly at a table, his sister talking away. Leaning into the bar, I cover my smile with my hand as I watch him look around uncomfortably.

I don't imagine this is his sort of place, not enough grease or cars or masked chicks and men talking shit, but he sure as fuck looks good in the lighting here. It caresses his curls, highlighting his tattoos and muscles, and I'm not the only one who notices.

"Damn, who's that hottie?" Sang leans into my side, ogling Alek. His black hair is pushed back, and his pale skin glistens with the glitter he put on to get more tips. He's bigger than me and muscular. He's also hot as fuck, and if we weren't such good friends, I would have hit that for sure.

"Alek Anders, not your type." I laugh as I nudge him, turning to face him. "We both know you like them dainty and small so you can throw them around."

"Very true." He leans in. "Want to find out?" I laugh as I push him. Our flirting is just that—flirting. It's something fun to pass the time, but when I turn and head over to the Anders's table, I see Alek glaring at Sang, so I step in his path.

"Don't like men flirting?" I taunt. "Then you should leave."

"Is that your boyfriend?" he comments, sneering the word.

"Why, going to be a homophobe?" I retort, crossing my arms. "You can leave. We don't have your type here, asshole."

"Problem, Evvie?" Sang calls, heading my way since he runs this place. He frowns at Alek. "Are you harassing my staff?"

"Me?" Alek looks him over. "Seems like you were doing that all on your own. Aren't there rules against the boss flirting with their employees?"

Sang's eyebrows rise as he looks at me, and I sigh. "He's an asshole all the time."

"Jesus, Alek, stop it," Alice hisses. "You're so embarrassing. Evan, I'm so sorry. He's just moody because he's hungry."

Sang's eyes narrow as he leans into the table and Alek, not the least bit intimidated despite the glare Alek gives him. "That better be it. If I hear you are being rude to my staff, we will have a problem. Enjoy your meal." He straightens and nods at me. "Let me know if he harasses you."

"I can handle it." I smile in thanks, and he squeezes my shoulder as he heads back to work. Alek glares at his back, and I wait. "Well?" I prompt.

"What?" he snaps.

"Your order," I reply. "Or would you rather I just stand here so you can keep checking me out."

He snorts, looking me over. "You look like a tablecloth my nana owned."

"Really? Well, she must have good taste," I retort.

"Honestly, would you two just fuck or fight already?" Alice comments dryly, and we both turn to her, but she's too busy scanning the menu to notice our incredulous looks.

"You know what? Call me when you're ready," I snap, putting my pad away and moving past their table to the one farther down. I force a smile at the college girls who giggle as I come their way.

"All done?" I comment, nodding at the check.

"Yes, thank you," one gushes, handing it back, and I pocket the cash as she leans in. "My number is on the back, too, just in case." They hightail it out of there.

Chuckling, I shake my head. The number of times we get hit on is insane, but it's just a job, nothing more. I never call or text.

They don't interest me.

My eyes go back to Alek, who's watching me, and I find myself wishing he would leave his number.

He'd probably call just to threaten me.

ALEK

Honestly, what man wears frills?

Okay, so he doesn't look terrible, but seriously? The black, long-sleeved shirt has frills at the collar and sleeves, and yes, they might compliment his hair and work for him, but it's ridiculous, and those pants? They are so tight I can see everything. No wonder every single customer is looking, never mind flirting. He eats it up, winking and teasing. I notice the other waiters do as well, but it doesn't piss me off as much as it does with Evan. He's doing it just to upset me. I know it.

"You're staring again." I turn around to see my sister playing with her plate as she grins. "Want me to leave him your number like that table did?"

"Shut up and eat your food," I mutter. She surprised me at work, wanting to go to dinner, and I can't say I'm unhappy. Now that she is at school and I'm working so much, I barely get to see her, and we have always been close.

"Seriously, Alek, what's your issue with him? I know it's not because he's bi. I know you too well for that. What is it?" she demands. "He's nice."

"He's another rich idiot who thinks the world owes him something," I snap. Does everyone else think I'm an asshole to him because he likes both men and women? I don't like that. I don't give a fuck who anyone likes as long as it doesn't affect me.

"He's right. You don't know him," Alice drawls. "He's a scholarship kid." I blink at her, and she nods. "I heard rumors that his parents kicked him out when they found out he liked men, so he made his own way here, earning a scholarship for his talent. He's working just like you. Maybe you misjudged him." I look back at him and wonder if she's right.

I didn't expect that.

"They kicked him out?" I mutter. She knows where to hit. We have our own family trauma and shit, and ours is no less fucked up. I don't want to like Evan Shaw, but finding out his life isn't perfect softens me a little.

"Yup. Apparently, he doesn't even speak to them. He puts up a good front, but I saw him staring at a picture he took of a happy family the other day, and he looked so sad. Remind you of anyone?" She nudges me. "I'm just saying, you don't know him, not really. Maybe you should stop lashing out because of your insecurities and prejudice."

"Need a refill?" His voice startles me, and I wonder if he overheard us as he pours Alice another iced coffee. He must feel my gaze because his eyes cut to me. "What?" he barks.

"Nothing," I admit.

His eyebrows rise, and I look away, hating that Alice got into my head.

"I heard you are looking for models," Alice comments. She has always been good at connecting with people. Conversations are easy for her, and everyone likes her. I'm the total opposite, and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm more like our father.

I certainly have his temper. Do I have his prejudice as well?

"Yeah, it's for my end of semester project, so I still have time," he replies. "Is your food okay?"

"It's amazing. Maybe Alek could help," Alice says.

"What?" we both snap at the same time, glaring at her as she grins.

"What?" She blinks. "It's a paid position for models. You said the other day you might take another side gig, and I hate to see you working so much just to pay for my school."

I feel Evan's eyes burning into the side of my head, but I ignore it, fisting my hands under the table. "It's fine. Eat," I tell her, my voice rough. I hate that he knows that about me. I don't want to appear weak in front of this man at all.

"There are a lot of students searching for models," he finally comments. "It's good pay. I can give you their information."

"No thanks," I mutter, glaring at them. "We're fine."

"Alek," Alice begins. "When are you going to start working on your own dreams and stop helping me chase mine?"

"Enough," I warn. "Eat, I need to get back to work."

Her expression becomes sad, and she hangs her head, playing with her food. I want to take it back. I know she's worried, and I love her for it, so I take her hand. "It's not your job to worry about me, Alley," I mumble. "It's my job to look after you, okay? Don't worry so much."

"You're tired all the time, and you used to talk about the garage you wanted. You don't anymore, and I feel like it's my fault," she whispers.

"No, baby sis. I'm just so happy you are doing what you love. That's enough for me, I promise."

It is only then I realize Evan is still here, and I shoot him a narrow-eyed look. He simply observes me with something in his eyes I don't want to analyze. He hurries away, and I watch him go.

When it's time to pay, Evan is nowhere in sight, so I grab another waiter. "Oh, it's okay. Your check was taken care of." He grins.

"What? By whom?" I ask. I have a bad feeling.

"Uh, he told me not to tell you." He winces when I glare. "Evan."

That fucking asshole. "Where is he?"

"On break." The guy points to the back corridor as I stand, pissed as hell. "Go home, Alice," I snap, heading straight for the corridor that leads to the back despite the guy shouting that I can't go back there.

There are only a few doors, so I find the workers' area quickly. I slam the door closed behind me, and Evan jumps, turning with a wide-eyed look.

"Anders?" He frowns as I stomp over.

"I don't need your fucking pity," I growl, throwing cash at him.

"It wasn't pity," he starts, but I back him up against the wall.

"I don't need your fucking charity either. I can pay for my own fucking meals, rich boy," I snarl, slamming my fist into the wall next to his head. He doesn't even flinch, just stares me down.

"It wasn't charity," he retorts. "Jesus, I was just trying to be nice and mend bridges. Why are you such an asshole?"

"I don't need anyone to understand me. Least of all you." I push him into the wall, my chest heaving in anger as his scent wraps around me. His eyes drop to my lips, and I hate the way my body reacts.

I hate that I want him to look.

"Fuck you," he snaps, equally as angry. "I won't be nice next time."

"Nice, rich boy?" I hiss. "You're nothing?—"

My head snaps to the side from his slap. Licking my stinging lip, I slowly turn my head back to look at him. His eyes are wide. No doubt he's shocked at his own actions, but I'm not. If he wants to fight, then fine. I slam my fist into his face in retaliation, making him recoil with a cry. "What the fuck, Anders?"

Grabbing his head before he can say more, I crush my lips to his. He freezes before fisting my shirt, pulling me closer, his teeth digging into my lower lip so hard I taste my own blood. It only urges me on, and I swallow his groan as I press every hard inch of him against the wall, pinning him as I lick his teeth and dominate his mouth. He gasps as I kiss him, deepening it until it hurts.

Desire and anger fuel me, wrapping around me until I'm lost in him.

I'm not in my right mind, and when I hear a voice outside, I realize what I'm doing.

I pull back, my eyes wide in horror, my lip bleeding from his teeth.

I kissed him.

He watches me, his eyes wide and confused, and before he can say a word, I turn and race out of there.

I can still taste him in my mouth, no matter how much I wipe it away.