She tips back her beer and takes a long sip. “Back when Mark and I were together, before we had little Jimmy, we came in here one Saturday night. I was still waiting tables and he was between jobs, so we were both stressed out and looking to blow off some steam. We got hammered and started acting crazy. You know how we were. One of us drunk by ourselves wasn’t bad, but the two of us drunk together was the equivalent of fire and gasoline. Anyway, we were out on the dance floor, and I thought it’d be a good idea to dance on top of a table. So I climbed up on that corner table in my six-inch heels and miniskirt. Mark was totally into it; he was never the jealous type. In fact, he liked watching men hit on me all night. It really got him going, knowing he was going to be the one to take me home.”
“All right, maybe I don’t need to know this story,” I joke.
She playfully smacks me. “No, nothing like that. Anyway, I was up there dancing, having the time of my life. When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t just Mark in front of me. It was the whole bar! Men, women, it didn’t matter. They were all drunk and enjoying the energy of the bar. Then some drunk guy reached out and grabbed my ankle. I was drunk, in heels, and on a wobbly table, so I fell. Mark was pissed, and not just because the man touched me, but because I could’ve been hurt. So they got into a fight. Then it was like the whole bar turned on itself. Everyone was fighting. People were throwing pool balls, breaking cue sticks over each other’s backs, throwing barstools, and pushing tables. It was a bad night.”
Her eyes are as big as silver dollars, but her smirk is still there, shining on like always. “Anyway, them’s in my wild days. I don’t act like that anymore. I’m a perfect little lady now,” she drawls out in her fake Southern accent.
I laugh until tears form in my eyes. “You? A lady?” I snort when I start laughing too hard.
“Hey!” she acts offended. “I am a lady, dammit. A lady who needs another shot!” she yells to the bartender.
The bartender walks over and begins to fill our glasses again. “Seriously, I will kick your ass. Just keep that in mind.”
Julie smiles sweetly but picks up her shot and throws it back.
An hour passes, and before I know it, I’m perfectly buzzed. Not too drunk, but also drunk enough to find everything funny. Julie and I talk like no time has passed at all. She’s still my opposite in every way. She’s wild and crazy, even when she isn’t drunk, but it makes for some good stories. I finish off what must be my fourth beer when I feel a change in the atmosphere. It’s like the air suddenly grows thick, like it’s charged with electricity. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, goosebumps prickling my skin. My lungs feel like they’re having to work harder to take in oxygen, and my heart is in a sudden race. I look up at Julie and concern etches her face.
“What?” she asks.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I mumble, beginning to look around the bar. “Something’s different.” Nothing seems to have changed. There are still two men playing pool, the same group hangs around the dartboard, and the same random men sit around the bar. I spin my chair to the right and my eyes land on him. Wyatt. He’s just walked in the door and is making his way to the bar. He hasn’t noticed me yet, or maybe he has and he’s acting like he hasn’t.
I spin my back to him, looking at Julie with wide, fearful eyes. “What do I do?” I whisper, even though there’s no chance of him hearing me over the loud country music.
She smiles wide. “It is fate.” She latches onto my arm to drive her point home.
I roll my eyes, sick of her fate talk already. “I’m being serious, Jules.”
“Go talk to him,” she urges.
“What? No way!”
“Why not?”
I shake my head, suddenly scared to move—fearing I’ll draw attention to myself. “Order us more drinks,” I tell her. “I’m going to need to be drunk for this.”
It’s a small town and an even smaller bar. It’s only a matter of time before he notices me. Even getting up and leaving would draw attention to myself. Julie orders us two more beers and two shots.
“Make it four. Four shots,” I tell her.
Her eyes double in size as she laughs, but she does as I ask.
When our drinks arrive, I pick up a shot and toss it back. I pick up the second and do the same, chasing it with ice-cold beer. I know it hasn’t had time to kick in yet, but I already feel a little stronger, less afraid. I finally decide to let it go. If he comes over, he comes over. If he doesn’t, then that’s fine. I’m not going to let worry ruin my good time.
Julie and I start talking again like nothing has changed. For a moment, I even forget he’s sitting there. I’ve chanced a glimpse at him a time or two, but he seems content talking to the man at his side. He hasn’t even looked my way.
I excuse myself to go to the restroom, and when I spin my barstool around and stand up, I bump into something hard. Wyatt’s chest.
5
Wyatt
I spot her the moment I walk into the bar, but I see the panicked look she gives Julie, so I decide to wait. I order a glass of whiskey and she orders enough to sedate a lion. I watch with amusement as she throws back the liquor and mentally prepares herself for the moment I approach her. She won’t come to me—I know that. Instead of rushing into this, I opt to take my time and enjoy her squirming. Destiny and Julie talk and laugh like old times. I wonder if she’ll welcome me the same way. Somehow, I highly doubt it.
As I put away another glass of whiskey and order another, I make small talk with the gentleman I happened to sit next to. Finally, she seems to be at ease, like she’s tricked herself into forgetting I’m here. I stand from my seat and walk over to her side of the bar. Just as I’m about to interrupt their conversation, she stands and walks right into my chest, knocking me back a step, but I steady her by placing my hands on her biceps.
I flash her the smile she could never resist. “Whoa, you’ve always been graceful. I see that hasn’t changed,” I tease, letting my burning hands fall away. It’s nice to know the tingle I always got from touching her hasn’t left.
Her eyes double in size and her mouth is left hanging open. She quickly wipes her surprised expression away and replaces it with a fake, friendly smile. “How ya doin’, Wyatt?”
I look her up and down. I almost need to bite my fist. That. Fucking. Dress. It shows her long arms, her thin neck, her bulging chest, and her long, tan legs. “Good. How you been?”
She nods. “Good.”
There’s a long silence between us, so Julie turns around. “Wyatt, why don’t you join us for a round or two? Catch us up on what’s been going on in your life.”
I shoot her a grin. “Don’t mind if I do,” I say, sliding onto the empty barstool next to Destiny.
“You going somewhere, sweetheart?” I ask, looking up at her.
She forces a smile onto her face. “Nope,” she says, sitting back down.
“So, Wyatt, where ya been all this time?” Julie asks, clearly trying to force us to talk to each other.
“I’m more interested in where Destiny here has been, and why she refused all of my calls.”