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I can’t come up with another explanation for why he’s loitering around—unless he thinks the guy working is looking for a second autograph.
The cashier cards me for the tequila. I’m tempted to roll my eyes. There’s no chance I could pass for twenty or younger, even if I am dressed like a sloppy teenager. But I hand my driver’s license over without comment and pay before grabbing the brown bag.
Drew follows me outside. Rain is still falling steadily from the dark sky, dripping off the store’s overhang and bouncing off the pavement.
We both linger outside the store, but it’s not awkward, like I expected. More unfamiliar. Uncertain. I have no idea what Drew is thinking.
“Did you walk here?” Drew asks.
His voice and question are both casual. Unaffected, like us running into each other at the Main Street Market is a normal occurrence. It soothes my anxiety. Removes the inclination toward making up some excuse to leave. Stopping here was the start of a lot of unknown, and any glimpse of normal—even feigned—is welcome.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.” Drew tilts his head toward the left, in the direction of Ashland Avenue—where we are both headed—green eyes drilling into mine in a silent question.
I nod and shoot him a small smile, tightening my grip on the bag I’m holding as I walk into the rain.
It’s not that I don’t want to spend more time around Drew—the opposite.
But I’m apprehensive about the prospect.
I’m in a melancholy mood, lost in the past and worried about the future. No part of me is prepared to flirt or to smile or to act like I have my life together in the present.
Normally, I have no problem appearing bubbly and poised and assured.
Not tonight. Not here.
Exhaustion weighs me down as we walk along the rain-drenched sidewalk. All I really want to do tonight is drink tequila in my pajamas without worrying about how my hair looks. I know that won’t be possible around Drew. His presence is impossible to ignore. It lingers like a silent shadow next to me as we start down the street, walking side by side over cracked pavement.
Drew says nothing as we stroll.
I’m the one who speaks first. The falling rain prevents total silence, but it still feels strange to walk with someone I hardly know without speaking a word.
“I don’t know a lot about hockey. But one of my friends from work is a big fan. She was super impressed to hear that I swam out to a floating dock with you when I was fourteen.”
He glances at me. Half-smiles. “What do you do?”
“Hmm?”
“For work. What do you do?”
“Oh.” I tighten my grip on the bag I’m carrying. God, do I hate this question. “Answer phones and pick up coffee, mostly. I’m trying to figure out what else to do with my life.” I force out a light laugh.
“You need to do something else?”
I don’t do a great job of keeping the surprise off my face. I’ve gotten that response before. But only from people I’ve given the bright and shiny version of my responsibilities to. The ones who have heard, “I’m an executive assistant at Empire Records, managing artists and tracking album sales,” and imagined me rubbing shoulders with celebrities and having a say in their careers. And none of them have achieved an iota of the success Drew has.
“Some people seem to think so.”Including my family.Bitterness seeps into my tone.
“Seems likeyouropinion is the one that should count.”
“Yeah, it should,” I respond.
Spoken like a multimillionaire, I think.
It’s awfully simple to follow your heart when you don’t have to worry about paying bills.
Not that I resent Drew’s success. It’s just easier to be brave with a safety net in place. One I don’t have and he does.
