Hardly the place I would have picked for a first date.
I pull my own chair out after a moment, realizing he isn’t going to touch mine. I take my phone and wallet out of my pocket and set them down on the table as I sit down and scoot closer. The table feels sticky and gummy, the kind you get when the varnish never fully dries.
I pick up the laminated menu and start to peruse it as Jake asks, “Do you want a drink?”
“Oh,” I say, looking up at him. “I’m not twenty-one yet.”
He leans forward, smirking. “I didn’t ask if you were twenty-one. I asked if you wanted a drink.”
“Sure,” I say, after a moment. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” Alarm bells are going off in my head but I ignore them, deciding to give him a chance to prove them wrong.
Jake gets up and heads to the bar. I take a deep breath and visualize the knots in my stomach unraveling in an attempt to calm my nerves.
He’s not gone very long before he returns with our drinks in hand. He sets a bottle of beer down in front of me and returns to his chair, tipping his own bottle back.
“So, you’ve just moved to Driftbay?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.
I nod, bringing the beer to my lips. I take a sip and cough, disgusted at the taste. I set it back down on the table and gently nudge it toward him. “I’m originally from Seattle. I wanted to come live with my Aunt Beth. You might know her, she owns Beth Ann’s Diner here in town.”
“Yeah, I know her.” He nods.
Of course. I should have known. Everyone in Driftbay knows Beth.
“Why would you want to leave Seattle and come to this craphole?” he asks.
“I don’t think it’s a craphole,” I argue. Driftbay has been a blessing to me, a bright spot in an otherwise dark time in my life.
“There’s not much to do here,” he says, taking another swig of his beer. “It’s a dead-end town full of meaningless jobs. There’s so much more room to grow in Seattle, opportunities to make something of yourself.”
He talks like he’s been there before. I don’t ask him if he has. I frown and think of Beth, and her success with the diner. I wouldn’t necessarily call that a “dead-end”.
“So,” I say in an attempt to change the subject, “have you always lived here?”
He nods. “My dad is James Osborne.” He says it like I’m supposed to know the importance behind the name.
There’s a beat of silence between us before I laugh softly, saying, “Sorry, I’m still learning everyone’s names. I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”
Jake laughs now. “You won’t, unless you’re in a courtroom.”
I stare at him, still not quite following what he’s saying.
“He’s the best attorney in town,” he says, “The ‘silver-tongued king of the courtroom’ as the newspaper says.”
I nod slowly.
“You want my family on your side.” Jake leans closer across the table. “My father can ruin anyone in this town.”
“Duly noted,” I say.
The bartender appears at the edge of our table and I’m grateful for the distraction. She smiles as she takes out her notepad and a pen.
“Hi,” she says, “I’m Emily and I’ll be taking care of you guys. Can I get you any appetizers?”
I glance back at the menu as I hear Jake say, “Hi, Emily,” rather sweetly.
“I’ll just have a burger and fries,” he adds, “Extra onion.”
I hastily order some nachos and hand the menu back to her as Jake takes another drink, draining his beer.
