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‘More?’ I ask, snagging the empty bottle from the table and standing.
‘Why the hell not?’ Molly drains the last inch of her glass. ‘And get some peanuts, too.’
I laugh and make my way to the bar, where the owner, Bob, is leaning against the counter chatting to Father Fitzroy, another pint in his hand. ‘Same again, please.’ I set the empty on the bar.
‘And a Budweiser,’ says a voice from beside me. I recognize it immediately, and my carefree smile drops like a rock. Ryan Willis. My hand freezes in midair as I release the empty bottle, my chest immediately throbbing. ‘Hi,’ he says, but I keep my eyes on Bob, searching my brain for a simple reply and finding nothing. No words, no instructions, no bloody anything.
Bob slides a bottle of Bud across the bar as he reaches for my bottle of wine. ‘You okay there, Miss Bright?’ he asks, a little concerned. I’m concerned, too. I lose the ability to function like a normal, rational-thinking human being each time I’m in Ryan’s presence. What the hell is wrong with me?
‘I’m fine,’ I murmur as I grab our new bottle of wine and throw the money down. ‘Thanks.’ I beat a hasty retreat back to the table, cringing to myself the whole way.
‘You okay?’ Molly asks, holding up her glass for me to fill.
I force a smile and nod as I take my seat, desperately trying not to look toward the bar as Molly starts chatting again. I see her mouth moving, her hands gesturing, though I have no clue what she’s saying. I’m too busy fighting to keep my eyeballs forward. But when she suddenly declares she needs the ladies’, I’m left with no one to focus on. I look down at my grazed knee. And, damn me, peek over my shoulder.
He’s sitting at the bar watching a football match on TV. His beer sporadically rises to his lips, and his throat stretches each time as he drinks. He’s alone, quiet, seemingly happy in his own company. Then he looks back, and I fly around on my chair and focus on my wine.
Good God, I’m a loser. Say hi. Smile at him. He’s just being friendly, for Christ’s sake. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t bring myself to face him.
I gulp and look up when Molly comes back from the toilet. ‘Hey, did you get peanuts?’ she asks as she scans the table.
I’m up from my stool quickly, being presented with the perfect opportunity to fix my recent blunders and hopefully show Mr Cool that I’m not a total weirdo. ‘I’ll get them.’ I go to the bar quickly before Molly can offer. ‘I forgot peanuts,’ I say to Bob as I turn toward Ryan, pulling a smile from nowhere.
His bottle pauses at his lips, his eyes turning to me but not his head. I have every intention of introducing myself officially, of holding my hand out and putting my silly awkwardness behind me, but then he lowers his bottle and turns a fraction toward me on his stool. He cocks his head. His eyes twinkle, just a little, and he gives me a crooked half smile.
And my plan turns to shit, my smile drops, and I’m mute once again. And my stupid body responds in a way it has never responded, catching me off guard. God, I’m really attracted to him. Fancy the absolute pants off him, in fact. He’s rough, rugged, and handsome, even with his bent nose and crooked smile. I reach up to my own nose, feeling the tiny bump on the bridge. Did he break his nose, too? Or is his naturally bent?
He watches me as I stroke over the lump, his smile becoming faint. I quickly pull my hand from my face. Suddenly wary of my body’s reactions, and honestly not knowing what to do with them, I back away, blindly snatching the peanuts off the bar.
‘That’s a pound, please, Hannah,’ Bob says, and I look at him like he’s just asked me for a million.
‘I’ll get them.’ Ryan slips a coin onto the bar, and I’m positively dying on the inside as he watches me retreat, his smile now soft.
‘Thanks,’ I more or less whisper, turning and heading back to Molly. I should avoid him forever, since I’m not myself when I’m around him. But there’s just something about him. He’s knocked me for six. He’s kind of warm, without really being warm. He’s kind of cute, without really being cute. And he’s kind of familiar, without being familiar at all.
What is happening?
God, I don’t know, but I do know that he must think I’m a total nutcase. Maybe I am. Or maybe I’m broken beyond repair. Maybe I just don’t know how to act in front of a man anymore.
