“You’re anxious.”
I shoulder past. “When am I not?”
Her unlaced Dr. Martins stomp behind me up the wooden steps. The worn, shaded deck creaks as we make our way down the bar past regulars and a few scattered tourists dressed in expensive resort-wear. Andrea gains a few curious stares, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She hops onto a stool and rubs her palms together as the familiar bartender approaches.
“Been a while,” our old high school classmate, Freddy, smirks. “We doing the usual?”
“You know it,” Andrea winks, twisting toward me as I slide onto the teal-painted stool next to her. He winks back, leaving to make our drinks.
I check my phone again.
Nothing.
Andrea’s arm presses against mine as she leans over. I instantly turn off the screen and shoot her a glare.
“What’s Pooh Bear doing?”
I slump on the bar.
“Fuck if I know.”
“Whoa, grouchola,” she chuckles. “Weren’t you just texting him?”
With a growl from the back of my throat, I drop my phone on the waxed wood. “Yeah and the bastard is being cagey as hell. It’s driving me insane.”
I realize my mistake the second I catch her stunned expression. “Since when do you admit to caring about him?”
Shit, fuck, balls. I knew I’d have to tell her eventually but I wasn’t ready for her lecture yet. Before she can really sink her claws in, Freddy returns with our drinks. I greedily suck down frozen mango margarita like it’ll rescue me from this inevitable conversation.
“Spill,” she snaps.
“You might want to drink that first.”
Running her tongue ring over her teeth, she squeezes her eyes closed. “Remy, I swear you’re the reason I have chronic heartburn,” she mutters and chugs half her drink. Once she sets it down, I take a deep breath and accept the absurdity that is my life now.
“Win and I… are… together. Publicly this time.”
She immediately grabs her drink and pours the rest down her throat. Choking, she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.
“Wasn’t expecting that,” she coughs. I crunch tiny grains of ice between my molars. She nods a few times, brain whirling as she stares into the scuffed bar top. “Since when?”
“Two days ago.”
The wrath I’ve been bracing for clicks into place. Her sharp nails dig into the meat of her palm.
“You didn’t tell me for two wholedays?”
“I was going to—”
She steals my drink, finishing it off too while flagging down Freddy for a refill. Lips glistening with sugary mixer, she clears her throat. “Fucking hell.”
“You’re acting like I murdered someone,” I mutter.
She cuts me a loaded look. “Are you sure you two are ready for this?”
“Not at all.”
She slaps her forehead. “Now would be a good time to believe in god again just to pray for you idiots.”
