The man’s mouth thinned. Everyone knew Mac had a subzero tolerance for any type of provocation in his establishment. He’d once banned someone for intentionally stepping on another’s foot without apologizing.
“Or,” I said, “you can apologize and we’ll forget this happened. Your choice.”
A long, tense beat passed before he spoke again. “I’m sorry,” he gritted out.
“For what?”
If looks could kill, my lifeless body would be floating in the Thames. Luckily, they didn’t, and he had no choice but to amend his apology. “I’m sorry for bumping into you.”
“It happens,” Asher drawled. “Not everyone is born with grace, coordination, or manners.”
“You—” The man cut off with a small growl when I flicked my eyes toward the bar again.
He stormed off without another word, leaving the stench of cheap aftershave and indignation in his wake.
Asher turned his full attention toward me. His mask of amusement faded, softening the furrow between his brows and the hard set of his mouth. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Maybe not, but he deserved it.” My heart raced in the aftermath of the confrontation, but it wasn’t from nerves. It was from exhilaration. I felt like I could take on the world and win. “He was a wanker.”
“There’re plenty of wankers in the world, unfortunately. I’ve learned to pick my battles. Besides…” Asher flashed a crooked smile. “I have to watch myself here. Mac’s still upset with me for spilling beer on his beloved jukebox earlier this year.”
I wasn’t fooled by his devil-may-care attitude. “What did that guy say to you?”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“Asher.”
His smile devolved into a sigh. “The usual B.S. about me being a traitor and getting what I deserved in that final match against Holchester. It’s boring at this point, though I have to commend his commitment to his hatred while he’s on holiday.”
My brows pulled together. Asher got a lot of hate from Holchester fans when he transferred to Blackcastle, but it’d been months. I couldn’t believe people were still hung up on it when transfers happened all the time.
Then again, football fans were nothing if not passionate (to put it mildly), and the rivalry between Holchester and Blackcastle was particularly bitter.
“Well, I hope his beer is always warm, his food is always cold, and he stubs his toe every time he gets out of bed for the rest of his trip,” I said. “Imagine being so hateful on holiday. That’s bad karma.”
Asher’s laugh coated my arms and chest with warmth. “The ballerina has claws. I didn’t expect that from you,” he teased.
I shrugged. “I don’t like it when people act like wankers.”
“Either way, thank you again. I was going to ignore him. I can’t give every arsehole the attention they seek, but a little bump was worth seeing that side of you.”
“Don’t get used to it. I can’t always be around to protect you,” I said, but I couldn’t resist a small smile in return.
His eyes crinkled deeper at the corners. “Noted.”
A long, languorous beat passed between us.
Every time I thought I knew where I stood when it came to him, something happened that threw me off-kilter.
There was no steady ground with Asher Donovan. It was a constant sea of change—frustrating, terrifying, and, as much as I hated to admit it, exhilarating.
All the banked heat we shouldn’t acknowledge thrummed across the tiny high-top table. We—
“Sorry that took so long.” Carina’s breathless apology doused the moment in ice water. Sorry, my ass. She’d left us alone on purpose, and her grin indicated as much. “The queue took forever.” She slid onto her stool and regarded us with naked interest. “What did I miss?”
“Not much,” I said when Asher remained quiet. His run-in with the man wasn’t my story to tell. “We were just chatting about football.”
“Oh, okay.” Carina seemed oblivious to the tension smoldering around us. “Before I forget, I want to tell you I can’t make it Tuesday. I got a call from my parents while I was in the queue. They made us dinner reservations at Babko that night, so I won’t be able to watch your first rehearsal. I’m so sorry.” Genuine remorse crossed her face. “I really wanted to be there for the first one.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “You won’t be missing much.”
Asher’s brow wrinkled. “What rehearsal?”
Carina flicked a quick glance at me.
Shit. I hadn’t told him about the showcase yet. It wasn’t a secret, and he wasn’t entitled to know, but a stab of guilt pierced my chest anyway.
“I changed my mind about not participating in the RAB showcase,” I admitted. “I spoke with Lavinia, and I’m now the understudy for the lead role in Lorena.”
“The lead role?” His eyes sparked with admiration, and an answering warmth drifted through my veins. “That’s brilliant!”
“It’s not a big deal. Like I said, I’m the understudy.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling oddly self-conscious. “Chances are, I won’t get to perform. I’m just there in case the lead gets sick or injured.”
“It’s still exciting. When did you find out?”
The guilt deepened. “Monday.”
Asher’s expression didn’t change, but the barest hint of a pause indicated his confusion.
