“I’m thinking about going to the university actually. To study business. I came to check it out.” I don’t tell him that I’m putting down some temporary roots regardless of whether or not I like the school here. Every year or so I move somewhere new … searching for what could feel like home.
His eyebrow raises and he looks me up and down, making me feel naked. “Your ID isn’t fake, right?” he asks and then tilts the tall glass in his hand to let the foam slide down the side.
“It isn’t fake, I swear,” I say with a smile and hold up my hands in defense. “I chose to travel instead of going to college. I’ve got a little business, but I thought finally learning more about the technicalities of it all would be a step in the right direction.” I pause, thinking about how a degree feels more like a distraction than anything else. It’s a reason to settle down and stop moving from place to place. It could be the change I need. Something needs to change.
His expression turns curious and I can practically hear all the questions on his lips. Where did you go? What did you do? Why did you leave your home so young and naïve? I’ve heard them all before and I have a prepared list of answers in my head for such questions.
But they’re all lies. Pretty little lies.
He cleans off the glass before walking back over and pulling out the seat across from me.
Just as the legs of the chair scrape across the floor, the door behind me opens again, interrupting our conversation and the soft strums of the acoustic guitar playing in the background.
The motion brings a cold breeze with it that sends goosebumps down my shoulder and spine. A chill I can’t ignore.
The bartender’s ass doesn’t even touch the chair. Whoever it is has his full attention.
As I lean down to reach for the cardigan laying on top of my purse, he puts up a finger and mouths, “One second.”
The smile on my face is for him, but it falters when I hear the voice behind me.
Everything goes quiet as the door shuts and I listen to them talking. My body tenses and my breath leaves me. Frozen in place, I can’t even slip on the cardigan as my blood runs cold.
My heart skips one beat and then another as a rough laugh rises above the background noise of the small bar.
“Yeah, I’ll take an ale, something local,” I hear Daniel say before he slips into view. I know it’s him. That voice haunted me for years. His strides are confident and strong, just like I remember them. And as he passes me to take a seat by the bar, I can’t take my eyes off of him.
He’s taller and he looks older, but the slight resemblance to Tyler is still there. As my heart learns its rhythm again, I notice his sharp cheekbones and my gaze drifts to his hard jaw, covered with a five o’clock shadow. I’d always thought of him as tall and handsome, albeit in a dark and brooding way. And that’s still true.
He could fool you with his charm, but there’s a darkness that never leaves his eyes.
His fingers spear through his hair as he checks out the beer options written in chalk on the board behind the bar. His hair’s longer on top than it is on the sides, and I can’t help but to imagine what it would feel like to grab on to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had.
The timbre in his voice makes my body shudder.
And then heat.
I watch his throat as he talks, I notice the little movements as he pulls out a chair in the corner of the bar across from me. If only he would look my way, he’d see me.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips and I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t.
I can’t do a damn thing but wait for him to notice me.
I almost whisper the command, look at me. I think it so loud I’m sure it can be heard by every soul in this bar.
And finally, as if hearing the silent plea, he looks my way. His knuckles rap the table as he waits for his beer, but they stop mid-motion when his gaze reaches mine.
There’s a heat, a spark of recognition. So intense and so raw that my body lights, every nerve ending alive with awareness.
And then it vanishes. Replaced with a bitter chill as he turns away. Casually. As if there was nothing there. As if he doesn’t even recognize me.
I used to think it was all in my mind back then. Five years ago when we’d share a glance and that same feeling would ignite within me.
But this just happened. I know it did.
And I know he knows who I am.
With anger beginning to rise, my lips part to say his name, but it’s caught in my throat. It smothers the sadness that’s rising just as quickly. Slowly my fingers curl, forming a fist until my nails dig into my skin.
I don’t stop staring at him, willing him to look at me and at least give me the courtesy of acknowledging me.
I know he can feel my eyes on him. He’s stopped rapping his knuckles on the table and the smile on his face has faded.
Maybe the crushing feeling in my chest is shared by both of us.
Maybe I’m only a reminder to him. A reminder he ran away from too.
I don’t know what I expected. I’ve dreamed of running into Daniel so many nights. Brushing shoulders on the way into a coffee shop. Meeting each other again through new friends. Every time I wound up back home, if you can even call it that, I always checked out every person passing me by, secretly wishing one would be him. Just so I’d have a reason to say his name.
Winding up at the same bar on a lonely Tuesday night hours away from the town we grew up in … that was one of those daydreams too. But it didn’t go like this in my head.
“Daniel.” I say his name before I can stop myself. It comes out like a croak and he reluctantly turns his head as the bartender sets down the beer on the wooden table.
I swear it’s so quiet, I can hear the foam fizzing as it settles in the glass.
His lips part just slightly, as if he’s about to speak. And then he visibly inhales. It’s a sharp breath and matches the gaze he gives me. First it’s one of confusion, then anger … and then nothing.
I have to remind my lungs to do their job as I clear my throat to correct myself, but both efforts are in vain.
He looks past me as if it wasn’t me who was trying to get his attention.
“Jake,” he speaks up, licking his lips and stretching his back. “I actually can’t stay,” he bellows from his spot to where the bartender, apparently named Jake, is chucking ice into a large glass. The music seems to get louder as the crushing weight of being so obviously dismissed and rejected settles in me.
I’m struck by how cold he is as he gets up. I can’t stand to look at him as he readies to leave, but his name leaves me again. This time with bite.
His back stiffens as he shrugs his thin jacket around his shoulders and slowly turns to look at me.
I can feel his eyes on me, commanding me to look back at him and I do. I dare to look him in the eyes and say, “It’s good to see you.” It’s surprising how even the words come out. How I can appear to be so calm when inside I’m burning with both anger and … something else I don’t care to admit. What a lie those words are.
I hate how he gets to me. How I never had a choice.
With a hint of a nod, Daniel barely acknowledges me. His smile is tight, practically nonexistent, and then he’s gone.
Chapter Two