by Lara Swann
He pushes open the door and a wave of noise washes over me as we step into the long, dimly lit room. I would have stopped as several sets of eyes turn toward us - the groups of rough-looking burly men intimidating me immediately - but Nathan steers us confidently to a small table at the side of the room, and a moment later they go back to talking and drinking among themselves.
At his indication, I cautiously take one of the high stools, hooking my legs around it and trying to remind myself that this was what I wanted - and it will be fine, too. I’m sure I don’t look as out of place as I feel.
“I’ll get the drinks.” He says, with a slightly crooked smile.
“Right.” I glance uncertainly toward the bar, where a couple of guys are roughhousing, beers in hand. “I’ll…save the table.”
His smile jumps into a grin and he blows me a kiss before turning away.
“I’ll have a glass of white wine—” I call after him, but he’s already walking over there.
I shake my head. If Nathan can walk in here full of confidence, then I can do the same.
That’s all it is. Confidence. And besides, this is an adventure.
It’s starting to feel like it, too.
The men might seem intimidating, with their thick leather jackets and skin covered in tattoos, but they’re also fascinating. This is definitely not my usual crowd - not even close - but something about that thrills me. I know nothing about these people…and here, on this stool to the side, I almost feel like I can take it in without anyone noticing me.
That’s not quite true, of course, and I can feel more than a few eyes flick over in my direction - enough that I hope Nathan doesn’t take too long with the drinks - but they don’t seem hostile. Curious, if anything. Which is fair, since it’s definitely mutual.
“Here ya go.”
Nathan appears in front of me, setting two pints of beer in front of me before dragging the other stool around to my right, to sit closer to me. I glance down, frowning.
“Thanks Nat, but—”
“This isn’t the kind of bar for wine.” He interrupts with an amused glance. “Hell, even the beer isn’t worth much - but it’ll be better than anything else you can get.”
“Mm…okay.” I don’t need to look around to confirm it’s all anyone else is drinking. “When in Rome, I guess…”
I pick the glass up, a little reluctantly, and he laughs at me, ‘clinking’ his against mine before taking a long draft. I take a sip, my nose wrinkling a little. Beer isn’t my favorite thing, but after a few sips it usually becomes tolerable.
“So. Finally.” He lets out a long sigh. “What happened?”
I blink. I’d almost forgotten the whole reason for coming out here.
I guess that’s something. Different is certainly a distraction.
I shrug, sighing too. The sharp upset I felt earlier seems to have receded a little - and now I just feel sad. Sad and frustrated, and a little wistful. I’m not sure that’s better.
“They said no.”
He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me, and since I know he isn’t going to ask more, I finally say it out loud.
“They think the course is a bad idea - it’s too expensive, a waste of money, and they need me available for the shop.”
“In the evenings?”
“Yeah. I know.” I grumble. “I mean, to be fair, we do try to open late on Wednesday, so that’s bad timing - and then the eventual exhibition is on a Saturday…”
“One Saturday.”
“Yeah.” I take a long sip of the beer. “It’s not really that. Sure, they don’t like me making plans that interfere with the shop, but we’ve worked that out before. I think it’s because it’s a MICA course - they just think it’s too much. Too serious - too much commitment - too expensive. I mean, it is expensive. It’s a specialist teacher - that’s how they can offer the exhibition at the end of it - so it’s over a thousand dollars. It would wipe out all my savings, and…it’s just not what they think I should be spending that money on.”
“Yeah, but those are your savings, not theirs. You’re the one who earned the money - you can do what you like with it.”
“I wish.” I mutter, his words striking a well-worn sore spot.
I did earn that money - and with the meager amount I earn from working in my parents’ shop, it took such a long time. The reason I’ve been scrimping and saving for so long is so that I can afford to do things like this - things that I know my parents aren’t willing to help me out with. I don’t mind that - that’s their money and I know they have other uses for it - but when they won’t even support me funding it myself?
“You can, you know.” Nathan repeats. “Who cares what they think? Why don’t you just do it anyway - you have the money, you don’t need anything from them.”
“And create a warzone in the place I live?” I ask skeptically, shaking my head. “I’m around them all the time, Nathan. I live there, work there…it would be unbearable to deal with that every day if I completely flouted Dad’s wishes like that.”
“Well that’s the real problem, then. Hell, forget the course, use the money as a deposit to rent somewhere else - even some cheap house-share would be worth getting out of that situation.”
“I know.” I say miserably. “But if I’m not allowed to go on a simple art course, I can only imagine how they’d react to that.”
Nathan rolls his eyes, poking at me.
“This is where you go wrong, hon. Stop looking for permission - stop waiting to be allowed - you’re—what—twenty-four—”
“Twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three. Still an adult. You can make your own choices - your life is your own, hon - start acting like it.”
I let out a long breath, feeling the discomfort rising as deep down inside, I know I secretly agree with him. And I wonder what that says about me.
“It’s not quite that simple.” I say, trying to explain it. “It’s my home and my job - and my family, too. I don’t even know whether I’d be able to rent somewhere with the kind of wage I get - and if I suddenly move out against all their wishes and advice, I doubt they’d increase it to make up for losing the food and board I get at the moment. A small shop like that, I’m not sure they’d be able to afford it even if they were willing to—”
“You need another job, Chloe. I’ve been telling you that for years. You can’t ever expect to get anywhere with this when you’re earning a pittance and relying on your parents for everything. Look, I could put in a word where I work - there’s always something going there, people leave all the time. Sure, it’s not glamorous answering calls all day and saying the same thing over and over again, but it’s something. The pay is decent - it would give you something to build on, at least, and support everything else you want to do. It’s what I’m doing.”
I pause for a long moment, mixed emotions swamping me as I actually consider what he’s saying. I’ve daydreamed about doing exactly that so many times - finding a job, a place of my own, independence. It’s such a bittersweet thought that it overwhelms me sometimes - the possibility and hope…followed swiftly by guilt.
“I know.” I finally say quietly. “I wish I could, really I do. I want to do everything you’re doing. But…I just don’t know if I can bring myself to abandon them like that. Everything else aside, they do need me at the shop. They need my help. And they’re my family, Nathan. They can be infuriating and frustrating and too much at times, but I still love them. I still owe them a lot. I don’t want to cause a huge rift over any of this - and however stubborn they are, I know they have my best interests at heart—”
Nathan snorts and I frown at him.
“They do. They don’t want me to do this because they don’t want me to throw my money away - they might be wrong, or misguided, but it doesn’t come from a bad place.”
He’s still looking at me skeptically, and I sigh.
Why does this always seems to happen?
I leave my house angry and resen
tful towards my parents - and then when I come to talking about it, I somehow end up defending them.
“Well, I’m not sure how else to help, hon.” Nathan shakes his head. “If that’s really how it all is, it sounds like you’re pretty trapped. I still think it’s a trap of your own making - and I’m not entirely sure they deserve you - but that doesn’t make it any less real.”
“You are helping.” I say softly, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “Talking helps. Coming all the way out here helps. Really, Nat, if I didn’t have you I think I would have gone insane with it all a long time ago.”
He shrugs, looking around at the bar without really seeing it. “Doesn’t seem like much.”
“It’s enough, really.” I give him a small smile. “I just need to escape every so often.”
“What about the course?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “I’m just going to keep talking about it, I guess, see whether I can make them understand.”
He shakes his head, and I know he doesn’t really get it. But then, he’s never had a real family, either. His parents split up when he was young and after that, from everything he’s told me, his Mom was more interested in her string of new boyfriends than her struggling kid. By the time he was old enough to move out on his own, there was little love lost between the two of them.
At least my parents care about me. At least we’re a family.
They’re right about that - I’m lucky those family values are quite so important to them, when so many around us don’t seem to hold to them anymore.
“I guess escape is something I can provide.” He finally says, giving me a wry smile.
Nathan isn’t the kind of guy to get stuck in melancholy for long - if there’s a problem, he’ll try to throw a dozen solutions at it…but if that doesn’t work, he doesn’t dwell on it. He simply moves on. It’s one of the reasons he’s so good for me to be around.
I follow his lead, feeling almost relieved to push my issues with my family to the side again.
“Yeah, you’re pretty good at that.” I look around at where we ended up tonight, taking in the bar again, which somehow faded into the background while we talked despite it’s distinctive character. There’s something about the long, saloon-style layout that really appeals to me, too, even though the dingy characteristics of the place mark it out as an absolute dive bar.
“How’d you find this place, anyway?” I ask, coming back to the question that was at the front of my mind only a short while ago.
His grin turns crooked again. “I dated a biker dude a while back - he brought me here a few times.”
“I didn’t know that!” I say, finding it hard to picture.
“Yeah, didn’t last long. I think I was more attracted to his bike than to him.” He shrugs. “Too hairy, not really my type. Sweet ride though…”
I laugh, shaking my head, and deliberately stop trying to picture it. I don’t really know anything about what two men might do together - but hairy is enough to put me off.
“Yeah, that would be a fun thing to try sometime.”
Definitely something I’ve never been the slightest bit close to before.
“A hairy biker dude?”
“No!” I say, still laughing. “Riding a motorcycle. The ones outside looked pretty cool.”
“Well, this would be a good place for it. I’m sure if you made eyes at a guy or two in here you’d get a ride easily enough…”
“Nathan.”
“It’s true. Can’t you see the guys who keep looking over here?”
“Yeah, that’s because we don’t belong here, Nat.” I shake my head, suddenly aware of that all over again. “We’re totally out of place.”
“It’s because you’re pretty, dumbass.”
As always, that comment comes out of nowhere and takes me by surprise - setting me blushing, even though he states it totally objectively. Maybe that makes it more embarrassing, in some ways.
“Nathan.” I whisper, trying to shut him up. I’m pretty sure no one is listening to our conversation, but it’s still not one I want to be having here. Or anywhere.
I can’t help myself though - I glance up again, and this time when I look around, I take in more than just the background atmosphere. And I do notice guys looking. Not just with the curiosity or disapproval I’d assumed, but admiringly too. My eyes skip across the room—and then catch on someone looking at me. Blatantly.
My blush deepens - and I can feel my eyes widening as I take him in. I can’t stop myself - I look right back, not even hiding it.
Oh, my.
Hairy, burly biker you are not.
He’s got the leather jacket, sure, but instead of looking cliche and over-sized, on him it just looks good - like a totally complimentary fashion choice. It probably helps that he’s at least a dozen years younger than most of the guys in here and in much better shape - with thick, windswept hair tousling at his face and a chiseled jaw that makes me think of danger and the heat of the night—
“See?” Nathan says, giving me an amused look.
My gaze darts back to him and I bury myself in my beer, embarrassment and a strange heated squirmy feeling rolling through my stomach.
Nathan laughs, nudging me. “Hmm?”
“Yeah, yeah okay.” I mumble, taking another sip even though the beer isn’t really getting any better.
Unbidden, the moment I raise my head from the pint in front of me, my eyes dart back in the direction of the dark-haired stranger - and right back into his eyes, still looking straight at me.
Oh, help me god.
Then he smiles at me, in a slow, lazy way that should infuriate me but instead does something crazy to my pulse. My gaze runs away again, back to Nathan, and it feels like coming up for air after a long time underwater.
“Nathan.” I whisper. “That guy over there…”
“Where?” He turns immediately to look around, and I have to grab his arm, pulling his attention back as I fight not to groan.
Great. Thanks, Nathan. Now he knows I just mentioned him.
“Don’t look!” I hiss.
“Why not?” Nathan says, with his usual casualness, and I have to tug on his arm to make sure he doesn’t turn around again. “Okay fine, what about this guy?”
“He keeps looking at me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I just said. Like half the guys in this place. Now, if only I could get that kind of attention—”
“Nathan.” I say again, interrupting before he can get carried away with that thought. “I mean, like, really looking. A lot. Do you know him?”
“I don’t know.” He rolls his eyes at me. “You won’t let me turn around and look at him.”
“That’s because you’re completely unable to be subtle about it.”
“Well, I doubt it anyway - I’ve only been here a few times. Why, what does it—oohhh.” His gaze sharpens, followed by a saucy grin that only he seems able to pull off. “You like that he’s looking at you.”
My flush deepens and I fidget with the beer glass.
“Well…it was just kind of…intense.” I say, then continue when Nathan gives me a highly suggestive look, a small smile playing around my lips as I get into the idea. “Maybe a little. It probably doesn’t hurt that he’s hotter than any of the other guys here.”
At that, Nathan does turn around to look, and I groan.
“Oh, c’mooon, Nat—”
“I see what you mean.” He says, grinning wickedly as he turns back to me. “Well, if a little bit of flirting and fun is the kind of distraction you’re looking for tonight, don’t let me stop you.”
He winks and I shake my head at him, even though his grin is slightly contagious.
“It’s not.” I assure him. “Believe me, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“You know what?” Nathan says despairingly. “That doesn’t even surprise me.”
I nudge him, trying not to feel uncomfortable about it.
I know he’s only teasing,
but sometimes that image he has of me gets old. I don’t want to be seen as the pure naive innocent with the conservative, religious upbringing forever. I don’t want to be that way forever.
It never used to bother me quite so much - my total inexperience with these things - the fact that I’m lost when it comes to something as simple as flirting. I mean, for years I considered it a good thing.
My parents always told me how important it was to wait, to find the right person to share all of that with and make sure it’s done properly, in the eyes of God. I agreed with them too - I liked that idea, and the whole romantic notion of it - but that was when I was back in school. Before I realized that the few hot-squirmy-awkward moments I occasionally shared with the boys in my class might become the pinnacle of my sexual experience.
Since then, when have I had the chance to meet anyone else? Well, except for the good church boys my parents keep trying to steer me towards - who don’t appeal at all.
It turns out, finding the right person is an awful lot harder than anyone ever told me.
Now I just feel embarrassed about the whole thing, especially when I’m around people like Nathan and his friends, who talk so easily and casually about it all.
It’s yet another way I feel like I’m barely an adult - like I skipped a key part of growing up and now I’m too old to admit I don’t understand half the things that everyone around me is talking about.
“But if you want to know.” Nathan continues, his fingers tapping on the table as he continues giving me that brash look. “You start by starting.”
Yeah, and if were to admit it? That’s the sort of comment I’d get.
“Thanks.” I say, letting the sarcasm slip into my tone. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
I take another sip of beer, then shake my head and deliberately change the subject - asking about the sculpture Nathan is working on instead, while deliberately avoiding looking over in that direction again. I’ve got plenty of distractions already tonight, and as soon as Nathan and I get lost talking about the latest technique he’s using, I’m sure I’ll stop feeling the pinprick of his eyes against my skin. I’m sure.
