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Barnaby’s is Wakefield’s popular bar. I know because Willow told me about how Tess and Sheetal took her there for an Avengers trivia night.
They came in second.
According to Willow, there were some trick questions relating to Captain America that shouldn’t have been included. Even coming in second, she had fun and she’s making friends. It’s a good thing.
She’s happy.
I want that for her. That’s all that should matter. We say our goodbyes, and just as I pocket my phone, Lily returns from her meeting. She rushes into Superheroes & Scones like she’s been away from her child for a decade. Her 24/7 bodyguard stays near the door with the other two, and I can already hear fans coalescing outside.
My stomach knots. I’m going to have to push my way through those crowds. Great. I don’t love people grabbing at me. I exhale a tense breath.
Lily skids to a stop when she sees her three-year-old curled up on the beanbag, cuddling the Ant-Man blanket.
Gathering my backpack, I avoid her gaze and rise to my feet.
“Garrison, thank you,” she whispers so she doesn’t wake him.
“It was nothing,” I say. “See you.” I head towards the door.
“Wait, Garrison.” Lily catches up with me. “Do you want to come over for dinner? We’re having spaghetti. I didn’t make it, so it’s edible.” She smiles softly, and I see those pleading puppy dog eyes that Willow was talking about.
To me, it just looks like pity.
Lily knows I’m alone here in the city. My family might live in Philly, but I don’t go see them unless it’s a holiday and I’m coerced into it. I have no friends. All that’s keeping me going is work. I should take her offer, but I don’t want to get close to Lily and Loren or any of Willow’s family.
I don’t know how long our relationship is going to last. And if she breaks up with me, if this all ends, they’ll choose her. Like they should. And I don’t want to spend time with Lily and Loren just to lose them in the end.
I won’t.
I can’t.
“I have plans,” I lie to Lily. “But thanks.”
Without another glance back, I zip up my jacket and leave.
october
45
willow hale
“Why are you taking photos of the chips, Willow?” Sheetal sips a beer and eyes my cell curiously. It hovers over a bowl of chips—or fries as I call them. Barnaby’s has great pub food, and it’s imperative that I send in my rating to Daisy.
“I promised my friend I’d document the food in London,” I explain. “And rate it.”
Tess smiles and plucks a fry from the basket. “I’d give these fries a solid two out of five. Needs more salt.” She bites into it.
Sheetal reaches for the salt shaker. “You mean, chips.”
Tess sticks out her tongue playfully. Sheetal tosses a fry at her, and Tess laughs. Not long after, Sheetal asks, “You need another bevvie?” She eyes her girlfriend’s depleting beer.
“Not yet, babe,” Tess says, smiling into a bite of fry.
They’re an adorable couple, and I’m grateful that they keep asking me to hang out. Even tonight, they could have left after we finished the assignment for our ad, but instead they both ordered a pint.
In my experience, most people don’t love the company of quiet people like me. We don’t bring enough to the conversation. We take up space at your table when you could have someone louder and more outwardly fun. And maybe that’s just my insecurity because Sheetal and Tess don’t make me feel like an intruder. They actively want me here, even if I’m quiet.
Someone bumps into our high-top table, and with my free hand, I reach for the pitcher of beer before it spills.
“Sorry,” the guy mumbles before stumbling over to the bar. Barnaby’s is crowded, college students filled to the brim. We’re lucky we arrived early and snagged one of the high-top tables.
I return to my phone. “So the chips are definitely five out of five.” I text Daisy my review: Delicious. Pub food at its finest. My picture kind of sucks though. It’s all grainy and the dim lighting doesn’t do the chips any favors.
She quickly texts me back.
Daisy: They look superb! Wish you could mail them to me!!
Me too.
“Five out of five?” Tess snorts. “I’m going to need to taste test a few more to see what’s up.” She digs her hand back into the basket.
I pick up my beer stein and take a small sip, the top mostly foam. It’s so strange being in a pub with students as young as eighteen, all legally drinking. “I can’t believe I’m twenty and drinking in a bar,” I say my thoughts out loud.
“I know, right?” Tess nods. “America needs to get with the program and lower the drinking age.” She frowns. “Also, I’m just now realizing that by living here, my twenty-first birthday isn’t going to be as epic.”
