What is he talking about?Was he listening at all earlier?
Lola drops off our drinks and says our appetizer will be out shortly.I grip the glass like a lifeline and take a fortifying drink.Shouldn’t Willow be back by now?
Leaning back in his chair, Steve stabs the ice cubes in his glass with the paper straw.“So tell me about that Ethan guy.”
I choke on my drink, spitting gin all over myself.How am I supposed to move past Ethan if we sit around talking about him all night?Still, I have to tell Stevesomething, so I go with: “He’s staying at the house next door.”
“That sucks.He seems like a dick.”
Funny.Ethan said the same thing about Steve back at Mugs.At least the feeling is mutual.“You think so?”
“Oh, yeah.Bigdick vibes there.”
I deserve an award for not spitting my drink all over the table a second time.
Big dick vibes.
He has no idea…
“Ethan isn’t really a people person,” I say, which is putting it mildly.He doesn’t seem to like anyone.
He liked you, Chloe.
I liked him too.So much.
Too much, really, given the circumstances.I should’ve held back more.Protected my heart.
Lola serves us our dip, and although the conversation picks up, we don’t discuss anything particularly interesting or memorable.
Three gins later, I can’t recall a word of our conversation—which has nothing to do with the alcohol I’ve consumed, by the way.I could name at least fifteen of the songs we’ve heard and tell you exactly how many drinks Steve has had (four) and the number of times he’s gotten up to pee (three).
I can also say with enormous certainty that whatever spark there used to be between Steve and me has gone cold.
Come to think of it, was there ever a spark?
Steve’s weeks in Inner Shores were always mindless fun, but forgettable.
I don’t want forgettable.
I want mind-blowing passion, adorably grumpy scowls that hide a heart of gold, and rare smiles that have to be earned.I want deep conversations and strong arms holding me tight when the wind and rain batter a swaying house.
I want to ride this sinking ship all the way to the bottom of the Mariana Trench.
Steve’s hand falls over mine, his thumb stroking my wrist.“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.
Fine isn’t good.Fine doesn’t make my heart race.Fine is settling, and settling isn’t fair to either of us.
“Actually, I think I’m ready to head home,” I add.I slide my hand from beneath his and slip off my stool.My legs wobble, unsteady beneath me.
He glances from my half-empty gin to his nearly full glass.“Already?Damn.Okay.Let me settle the tab, and I’ll meet you outside.”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
Steve and I are done.Once and for all.
My smile feels slow and heavy.Three gins is way too many gins.“Why don’t you stay?Willow can give me a ride home.”
