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8
BRYSON
Ireally, truly didn’t plan it, but when Quinn asks me to meet for a drink and requests somewhere in lower Manhattan, I suggest Logan’s even before I remember Carleigh works tonight.
I text Quinn on the way to the subway.
Bryson:They’ve got fifty cent wings on Wednesdays.My roommate works there.
My phone buzzes just as I’m at the bottom of the stairs underground.
Quinn:Ah the mysterious new roommate!Does this mean I get to meet her?
Bryson:I’m not sure if she’s working tonight.
I shove my phone in my pocket and spend the next ten minutes on the train wondering why I bother lying.Carleigh’s my friend.It’s not weird to grab a drink at the place your friend works.It’s not like I picked it because she works there – they have cheap wings!– but it’s certainly not a drawback.
She’s not at home when I get there.She’s probably still at school or the library or a coffee shop or wherever she goes during the day, since she doesn’t usually leave for work until a bit later.I grab a shower, change, and then head back out to meet my friend.
He sends me a text when I’m only a block away.
Quinn:I grabbed a table by the bar.To the left when you walk in.
I don’t respond; by the time I’m finished reading Quinn’s message, I’m basically outside the door.Logan’s is clearly a dive, not in the sort of intentional way all those bullshit hipster places have adopted, but it looks decent enough.
The crowd inside is a mix of guys in crisp pressed shirts, Patagonia vests, and girls in ironed pencil skirts.I spot Quinn right away; he’s always wearing an expensive version of old, shitty clothes, and he fits in pretty well with the try-hard groups in the bar.I’ve told him a bunch of times he looks like a jackass wearing a one-hundred dollar pre-torn shirt, but we’re old friends and I love the guy, even if he is a jackass.
“Hey bud,” I greet, folding my oversized frame onto a bar-height stool and leaning over the small, rounded wooden table.“What’s up?”
“Just got here,” Quinn says.He nods behind him, toward the bar.“We got a hot waitress.Dark hair, tight shirt.With the ponytail.”
Oh no.My eyes fall behind him, to where Quinn referenced, and – yep.It’s Carleigh, dressed in jeans, a faded green t-shirt, and a half-apron emblazoned with the bar’s name tied at her hips.She’s at the bar gathering a tray full of golden-colored beers and is thankfully far enough away to not have heard my buddy talking.
“Er.”I wince slightly.“So, that’s Carleigh, actually.”
Quinn’s eyebrows shoot up.“Oh, oops.Sorry.She is hot, though.”
“Yeah, yeah.”I’m not denying this.She looks especially cute today, with the slim cut of her jeans and that shirt doing absolutely nothing to hide the curves I recently got a little closer with.She’d been sick – thus a bit more willing to accept help than usual – and in attempting to make her feel better I somehow ended up cuddling with her on the couch.I’m definitely not still thinking about how the turn of her waist felt under my hands.
Carleigh walks back toward us, stopping to drop off a couple of beers at a neighboring table before she turns to set what I assume is Quinn’s beer in front of him.As she does, her eyes fall on me, and she makes a surprised face.“Oh!Bryson!”
I grin at her.“Hi.Figured we’d come get some of them cheap wings you were talking about.This is my buddy, Quinn.”
He reaches his hand out to shake hers.“Jackson Quinn,” he introduces.“Nice to meet you.”
Carleigh takes it.“Nice to meet you, too,” she replies, with a quick smile before looking back at me.Her eyes meet mine and then quickly drop to her now-empty tray before flicking back up at me.She seems shy suddenly, uneasy, and I hope I didn’t make her uncomfortable by coming here.Her weight shifts to one foot, then she says, “So, what can I get for you?”
“Dealer’s choice.Nothing too dark, though, it isn’t winter anymore.”
She smiles and nods.“I’ll make an executive decision.”
“I trust ya, you’ve got good taste.After all, you picked me as your roommate!”
“I think that actually shows she’s got bad taste,” Quinn cuts in, teasing.
I put a faux-offended look on my face.“Oh, come on.”
Carleigh laughs at Quinn.“He came recommended from a trustworthy friend, so it was more about my faith in Evan’s judgment than anything,” she responds.Then she pats my knee, which is sticking out half-into the aisle – the world is truly just not made for tall people – and adds, “But he’s more than proved himself.There are so many jars I don’t have to struggle to open anymore.”
