“I, uh—” Kane stammers.
“Morgan, it’s fine. We can just call someone. I’m sure—” I start, but Kane cuts me off.
“No.”
I blink at him.
“I can come check it out tomorrow.” His voice carries a nervous lilt as he looks at me like we’re the only two people in the bar.
I know if I told him not to, he’d listen. He’s always been so good at reading me, better than anyone else. I always said he was psychic, but he insisted he just paid attention and that all he had to do was look at me to know what I wasfeeling—claiming that he categorized all my facial expressions with how often he stared at me. If he sensed that I didn’t want him there, he would make an excuse not to come.
But Idowant him there.
Pain shoots up my leg as Morgan kicks me under the table. Another snicker slips out of Grayson before a sharpowand a look to Morgan follows.
“Uh no, that would be great if you could, thanks,” I stammer out, ignoring their antics around me.
Kane, coming over.
To our place.
After I just told him we should avoid each other.
Yeah, I’m totally going to throw up in the bathroom thinking about this later.
“Okay,” he says, his face brightening for the first time since he walked over and warmth flickering back into his eyes twinkling under the warm bar lights. “Okay, cool. Well, I’ll, uh, text you and see what the best time is?” he asks, still looking at me.
“Perfect, thanks Kane! Ugh, you’re so sweet and such a lifesaver,” Morgan replies as my brain scrambles for something to say.
“Okay, well I need to get back, our new hire is still being trained so…” he slowly trails off while starting to walk backwards, eyes lingering on me.
I nod, then with one last glance and soft smile my way, he turns and starts heading back toward the bar. I don’t miss the way he looks back at me every so often though, almost as if what just happened was all just a dream.
When he’s out of sight and occupied again, I turn sharply to Morgan as she sips on her drink, innocently scrolling on her phone.
“There’s a fucking code, Morgan Belle McIntyre. What the fuck wrong with you?” I lean closer to her so we’re not overheard.
“What? Our dishwasher is broken. I don’t think I was supposed to put that much soap in this morning.” A glint in her eye as she speaks.
“You’re dead to me.”
“I hate when mom and dad fight,” Grayson chimes in, grabbing his beer and taking a big gulp as he looks at the dinner menu.
Later,when Kane is no longer standing behind the bar, I brace myself to go order another drink. Morgan and Grayson are playing pool with a group of guys from North Chester University. They tried to get me to join, but the guy flirting with me finally got the hint that I’m not interested, giving me space to breathe.
Striding up to the counter, I take the first seat I can find. My feet ache, making me regret the choice to wear my new boots that I bought after a late-night doom scroll trying to ignore my feelings. They made the girl who posted them look so powerful, and I wanted to manifest some of that power for myself. Theyou may see your ex but you have these killer boots and you’re unaffected by his stupidly handsome facepower, that I’m not sure I’m channeling. Instead, I’m just givingsad, grumpy girl in black checkered Doc Martens and skinny jeans. Which, unfortunately, would not be wrong.
I sit on the stool and pick at a napkin in front of me, trying to release some of this anxious energy that has had itshold on me since I walked into The Grunge tonight. Soft music plays overhead since it’s still early, and the dinner crowd hasn’t quite left yet. I get lost in the melody of a man unable to move on from a lost love, feeling my heart tug a bit. I glance around at all the couples mingling in the back booths, noticing how half of them appear oblivious to the crowded bar around them—the same way I used to feel with Kane.
Before I can sink too far into that feeling, I face the bar again. “Hey there, can I get a Coke and vodka with lemon?” I ask the blonde bartender whose back is turned to me.
When she turns around, I suck in a sharp breath. It’s the girl I saw Kane with.
Of course he’d be fucking someone from work. The bitterness that runs through me shakes me.
“Of course. Oh hey!” she exclaims. “You’re Kane’sex, right? I’m Lindsay.” She leans her elbow on the black bar top, making sure to put an extra emphasis on the word ex, which confuses me.
“Uh, yes. Why?” I reply hesitantly. The last thing I want is to be that ex who creates drama with the new girl, but I don’t know how long I can pretend to be nice if this is some sort oflook what I have now.
