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Why is Zander single? It’s a thought that I can’t shake. Since knowing him, he has been on, like, two first dates. That’s it. The girls were lame though and a little too dorky even for his technical brain. Kind of alternative punk too. Not really the type of girl I would set him up with. No, Zander needs an artsy type of girl with beautiful long skirts and a love for puppies. And bird houses. I perch on the edge of my stool and spin from side to side, never taking my eyes off him.
“You okay, Angie?”
I ignore him and just go with the track my mind is taking me down.
“Okay, so my friend from high school…”
“Wait.” Zander halts the flow of my fluttery speech. His hand is in the air, a few inches from my mouth.
I stare at his fingers, confusion making my brow wrinkle. I give the look that translates towhat don’t you understand. I wonder if he is trolling me. I chuckle at my own thoughts, proud of myself that I even can talk.
He taps his finger along his jaw. “Are you trying to set me up with your friend?”
No. Yes. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure she is single,” I blubber out in a rush of breath. “We aren’t”—I sip more water to keep my mind clear—“weren’t close.”
More people move to the stage for the sound check. The crowd continues to grow. Claire and Blake are deep in thought. Resa and Bryce are laughing. The bartender is tossing bottles into the air, enjoying the whoops from his growing audience.
Zander’s voice cuts through the drone of sounds. “Focus.”
“Trying to,” I groan.
“What are you trying to say then, Angie?” The V between his brows shows his confusion. He has to be messing with me. He’s never this serious. Running his hands through his golden wavy hair, he leans in closer to me. “Be direct. When have you ever filtered your words?”
Pushing some hair behind my ear, I smooth out the locks. I chew the stir straw from the drink until it is tattered and worn, no longer capable of sucking up liquid efficiently. “It’s just that you are a good catch and—”
Zander’s smile stops my words. It could light up the dark corners of the room.
I point at his chest and press my finger into his pectoral muscles. “I just want you to be happy.”
“And you think getting me a girlfriend will do that?”
“It’s a possibility.” I mumble over the rim of my glass, as I take sips of my drink. Ice rattles while I use the straw to unsuccessfully slurp the last drops. “B‘tender! Refill, stat!” I demand in the best authoritative voice that I can muster.
“Cancel that,” Zander intervenes. “This little lady has had enough for now. Coffee instead. Two creams, one sugar,” he counters.
I frown at my empty glass of spiked tea. It was only one drink. I sip again at the melting ice producing an obnoxious sound. The stuff is lethal, but I still feel like I deserve another something-something. I’ll have a designated driver. What is the problem?
“What color is your friend’s hair?”
“Um, blonde,” I reply, trying to picture her in my head. We were more of acquaintances than friends.
Zander’s eyes focus on mine. “I like brunettes. Tall ones.”
At least someone does.
The coffee arrives, and I take small sips to check the temperature. The smell is sobering and probably what I need at this moment. It tastes decent for coffee made from behind a bar.
The first act does the honor of introducing what open-mic night is all about. The all-male musical group consists of a drummer and two guitarists. The crowd goes wild and those standing jump up and down to the rhythm of the harder-rock anthem of some group unknown to me. My eclectic taste did not branch out far enough to recognize the song. However, everyone acts like they do—or are too drunk to care. I suppose that a song fromThe Sound of Musicwould produce the same reaction. Everyone is amped and ready for a good time—liquid persuasion flowing heavily through their veins. Feeling alive.
Zander pulls his cell out of his pocket and looks at the screen, his frown wiping away all of his happiness.
“Uh oh, flaking?” I guess. His nod and downward eyes cause my stomach to turn. “What are you going to do? You still going to play?”
I have heard Zander jam many times at his place with his roommates. However, none of them showed up tonight. I feel horrible just looking at his eyes. He is sad.
