By the time the sun kissed the horizon on its way back up, I had walked to my car, grabbed my things from Harper’s, and was at the airport.
I never saw him again, and I’ve always been okay with that. It’s been this special moment that was just for me. No one knew about it. No one could taint it for me. There wasn’t a soul in the world who could guilt me for my actions or tell me he was desperate—or worse, that I was.
I’ve never wished that night to be any different.
Until now.
“I could tell him he knew me before,” I think aloud. Even as the words leave my mouth, I know there’s no way I can. The lump grows in my stomach and turns into a rock. It grows heavier as I imagine mentioning our history—and that he forgot and I clearly didn’t—and trying to wash over it all with some kind of silly laugh.
Embarrassment creeps up my cheeks.
“Yeah, no thanks.”
Walking across the room, I look at myself in the mirror. My face is a bit flushed, my pupils large, black dots.
I take my hair down from a ponytail and smooth it out. I wonder how many calls I’ve missed from my friends in Los Angeles. Probably none. They’ve moved on by now.
My fingers go through my tresses as I think about my old crowd. They love the ladder-climbing lifestyle. Running into and with celebrities, hitting the hot locales, taking the perfect snaps for social media at the right spots—that is their life. It was never truly mine. The older I got, the more I felt like I was let into their circle because of my mother. There’s little doubt they’ve filled my spot in their circle with someone else who can bring something to the table.
I pause and look at my reflection. My eyes are so clear, like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I realize that I feel that way. Lighter. Intuitively happier.
My hair goes back up again as I smile to myself. I check myself out from all sides, making sure I don’t have little fins of hair sticking every which way. Even though I roll my eyes at my antics, I don’t stop.
“You just go back out there and pretend like he’s another guy,” I say to my reflection. “You can flirt. Flirting with cute boys isn’t against the law and is great for the ego. Just remember he’s not for you.” I twist my lips. “Or he would’ve remembered the first time.”
After giving my hands a quick wash and dry, I take a piece of paper towel to the door. I use it to unlatch the lock and twist the knob before throwing it away.
The music is mellow, a pop song from the nineties, as I hesitate behind the little bar. It’s his laugh that makes a beeline to my ears. Despite the oregano in the air and odor of spilled beer, it’s Penn’s cologne I gravitate toward.
I need a drink.
“Hey, Avery.”
I jump at the sound of Harper’s voice. My hand clutches my chest. “You scared the crap out of me,” I tell her.
She laughs. “I see that. You okay?”
“Yeah. Just zoned out a little, I guess.”
Harper bites her bottom lip and eyes me suspiciously. “Are you joining us, or are you hanging out with Penn and Matt?”
“I’ll be joining you. Thanks.”
“Well, if something happens and you end up with the boys, don’t worry about me. And if you get back to the house and I’m not there—again, don’t worry about me.” She shimmies her hips. “I’m working on a little dessert, if you know what I mean.”
I laugh. “Well, good luck to you. With the cleavage you’re toting tonight, I have a hard time believing you’ll get turned down.”
She cups her breasts and squeezes them together. “I’m quite proud of these babies.”
“I can tell.”
“Now, you go out there and make friends. Just try not to burn the place down with all the heat between you and Penn.”
“Harper, please,” I hiss. “Stop it.”
“I know sparks when I see them.”
I blow out a breath and ensure she catches my annoyance. “There’s no smoke. No fire. There’s not anything to make a big deal about. He’s not even my type,” I add. “I told you that.”
There’s not a piece of her that believes me. She just stands there in her billowy blue dress and waits for me to laugh or say I’m kidding.
“I’m not joking, Harper.”
She rests a hand on my shoulder. Her whiskey-colored eyes offer a soft spot for mine to land. “Listen, I don’t care who you date or don’t date. It’s no skin off my back. I just . . . Penn’s a nice guy. You’re a great girl. When I see you two together, I get this feeling right here.” She pats her chest.
“I think that’s heartburn.”
She snorts. “No, I think it’s called a gut feeling, thank you very much.”
I back away slowly with a grin. “Keep your feelings to yourself.”
She laughs. “Will do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta pee.” She flashes me a wave before disappearing into the restroom.
The air grows thicker as I stand alone. I brush back a few blades of fake tiki grass and, like a complete creeper, find Matt and Penn. They’re sitting at a table with a giant pizza placed between them.
“They’re just two guys,” I say, rearranging the grass. “Maybe you can be friends with them.”
I walk around the end of the bar as I finish my pep talk. Penn’s eyes hit me before the thought fully launches into the universe. My flush must be obvious, because he winks.
Damn it.
I force a swallow as I approach them. There are four chairs around the small rectangular table, two on one side and two on the other.
Matt points to a plate in the middle of the table. “Your burger was delivered here.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” I ask.
Matt grins as he motions toward a pink-and-orange drink next to Penn. “We also ordered you a Rocket Razzle.”
“A Rocket what?” I laugh. “What’s in that thing?”
“It’s a rum-and-something,” Penn says. “If you don’t drink or don’t like rum, I’ll drink it. No worries.”
“No, I love rum. I just have an aversion to tequila.” I shrug. “Long night. Cheap tequila. Longer next day as I puked up everything I’ve ever consumed. I can’t stand the smell of it now.”
“Sounds like a good story,” Matt says. He pulls out the chair beside him. “Grab a seat.”
I look between the two empty chairs—one by Matt and another by Penn. My body wants me to take the seat next to Penn. My brain is screaming at me to be intentional about this decision and make the smart choice, meaning the one by Matt.
Before I can sort out the internal dilemma, the redhead who opened the door for me comes bouncing our way.
“Hey, guys!” The bracelets adorning her wrist jingle as she comes to a stop. “I can’t believe I left the stupid grill on at the café. Who am I these days?”
“Claire Collins, the same girl that called me last week because she left her car running all night and ran it out of gas,” Penn says.
She slides into the chair by Matt. “You’re an asshole, Penn.”
“Why?” he says. “Because I speak the truth?”
“Because you’re you.” She looks up and notices me for the first time. She points a finger my direction as she thinks. “Didn’t I just meet you?”