chapter 2

Anora’s POV

“What the hell is—” The words died halfway in my throat the moment I turned and met his eyes.

God.

He looked like someone carved him out of marble and then decided to give him a heartbeat just to torture the rest of us. Honey brown eyes which were bright, sharp, and way too piercing, held mine like they had every right to. His lips curved in the faintest smile, perfectly shaped, dangerous in the way they almost begged for attention. Even his hair, dark brown and swept neatly back, looked like it belonged in an expensive magazine spread.

And he wasn’t even dressed up. Just a pale blue shirt, sleeves casually rolled, and dark jeans. Simple, yet on him, it looked like royalty had decided to slum it for the night.

“You’ve had enough, miss.” His voice was low and smooth, confident without even trying. He reached over and slid the beer from my hand, setting it back on the table like it was the easiest thing in the world.

I should’ve snapped at him. I should’ve said something smart. Instead, my tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth. All I could think was breathtaking.

“Uh… hi,” I stammered, heat rushing to my cheeks. Perfect. I never stutter, but apparently this stranger came with built-in chaos.

His smile deepened, like he found my embarrassment amusing. And then—without hesitation—he took my drink and tipped it back, swallowing a huge gulp like it was his.

I blinked at him, but no words came out. For some reason, I just let him.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, settling into the stool beside me as if the seat had always been waiting for him. His gaze didn’t leave mine, curious, amused, like he was trying to figure me out.

“Oh, well,” I managed, leaning back and crossing my arms. “I can do whatever I want, right?”

That earned me another smile, lazy and knowing. He raised a hand and signaled the bartender for his own glass of beer, like he was planning on staying a while.

The bartender slid the glass across the counter, and he caught it with the kind of ease that said this wasn’t his first time. My eyes followed the way his wrist flexed as he lifted the glass, veins faintly shifting under his skin. I hated to admit it, but it looked… ridiculously attractive.

“So,” he leaned in slightly after a gulp, his voice low and steady. “Do you always drink alone, or is tonight… special?”

I chuckled and immediately let out the loudest hiccup-gulp. My eyes widened, and I slapped a hand over my face in shame.

He laughed, a smooth, deep sound, then quickly shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

I waved it off, cheeks still burning. “Don’t worry, I’m used to embarrassing myself.”

He grinned, and for some reason that made me relax enough to keep talking.

“Well,” I sighed, twirling the rim of my glass. “Tonight’s basically the worst.”

“Really?” His brows lifted slightly, like he didn’t quite believe me.

“Why?” he pressed.

I arched my brow, trying to gather myself. “Do you always ask strangers questions they don’t actually want to answer?”

That made him chuckle, quiet but rich. He swirled his drink lazily before taking another sip, eyes fixed on me the entire time.

“Oh, I want the answer,” he said, his voice dipping just enough to make my stomach flutter. “Trust me.”

Something about his tone disarmed me. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just him. Either way, I found myself spilling words I hadn’t meant to.

“I caught my boyfriend cheating on me,” I muttered, my throat tightening, “with my best friend.”

His glass paused halfway to his lips. “Oh my,” he said softly, like the words genuinely landed. Then he leaned back, eyes thoughtful. “Heartbreaks are an everyday thing.”

There was a weight to the way he said it, like he knew exactly what it felt like. For him to sound so sure, he must have lived through more than a few himself. My chest ached a little at the thought.

I forced a crooked smile. “You must be the head secretary of the heartbreak committee.”

He smirked, lifted his glass, and tapped it against mine before taking another sip.

I tried to look away to the bottles lined up on the shelves, to the neon lights flickering above the bar but it was useless. His presence tugged at me like gravity, pulling my gaze back every time. His eyes had a kind of pull that was magnetic and impossible to ignore.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he said finally.

“Anora,” I replied before I could stop myself.

He repeated it under his breath, slow, like he was tasting it. Then he leaned back, relaxed but sharp-eyed. “Sebastian.”

Sebastian. The name fit him perfectly. Strong, smooth, dangerous in a way that made my pulse race.

I smirked, pretending I wasn’t impressed. “Well, Seb, if you don’t mind me calling you that, what brings you here?’

He chuckled, taking a slow sip before answering. “Sometimes I get bored after work. And this place… keeps me entertained.”

Something in the way he said it made my skin prickle. His words slid under my skin, and suddenly the air between us shifted. It suddenly felt heavier and charged.

I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol, his husky voice, or the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room. But for the first time in forever, I forgot how to keep my walls up.

“Do you mind if I drop you home?” he asked, draining the last of his glass.

“Nah.” I shook my head, my words slurred just a little. “I wanna stay here till morning. There’s… someone I don’t wanna see at home.”

“Who?” His tone was curious, but there was something softer behind it.

“Loneliness,” I muttered, letting out a dry laugh.

He didn’t laugh. He just looked at me, eyes holding that same flicker of concern I wasn’t ready to admit I liked.

Then, without warning, he reached for my hand. His touch was warm, soft, and it sent a shiver racing down my spine.

“Come with me,” he said.

My breath caught. “Where?” I asked, but I was already sliding off the stool, following him.

“Just come,” he said, his voice steady, certain, pulling me along like I didn’t even need an answer.