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The overwhelming sense of community that’s practically stifling the air in here has never been part of my social life.
I hover in the background awkwardly, thoroughly regretting coming. A pity party is sounding better and better even if it makes Kyle’s earlier comment about me acting like a grounded teenager sound a little too apt.
One by one, the group notices me. I smile hesitantly with no model to follow. The closest to this situation I’ve been in are album release parties thrown by the label with an exclusive guest list and fellow coworkers.
“This is Piper,” Kyle says, taking one of the open seats. I sink down beside him.
He runs around the table, introducing everyone. The names become an immediate blur in my mind.
“Any refills around here?” A middle-aged woman appears, wearing a Longhorns shirt and an apron.
A couple of the guys around the table call out requests.
“Usual, please,” Kyle says.
Then, her attention lands on me. One brow rises expectantly.
“Um…” I hastily scan the table, trying to assess what everyone else is drinking. All beer, no cocktails or wine in sight. “I’ll have a beer, please.”
“What kind, honey?”
I want to grimace, both in response to the question and the sympathetic tone she uses for the nickname, but her kind smile stops me from reacting. “Whatever you recommend.”
She frowns. “Well, it depends if you want bottled or on tap. On tap, we have—”
“She’ll have a pint of Pipeline, Maggie.”
I glance at Kyle, then back at the waitress. Maggie. Nod an agreement because I have no better alternative and will just have to trust he’s not messing with me. “Pipeline sounds great.”
“All righty then.” Maggie scribbles something down on her notepad, then moves on.
The blonde sitting next to me leans forward. “I’m Ella,” she tells me, a wide smile forming.
I smile, too, although I’m sure mine is more uncertain. I appreciate her reminding me of her name since I would have had no clue what it was otherwise. “Piper.”
“Where are you from, Piper?”
“New York,” I reply.
“Really?” Her eyes practically sparkle with excitement. “I’ve never met anyone from New York.”
I’m not sure what exactly to say in response to that, so I just continue to smile. Friendliness practically exudes from her.
“Where are you from?”
She taps the table. “Here. Born and raised.”
“That’s nice.”
“I guess so. Days when I love it and days when I hate it, you know.”
I nod. “Yeah, I do know.”
“You still live in New York?”
“Yep. Stayed for college and then got my dream job in the city. Never had a reason to leave.”
I’m so used to calling it that—my dream job.
