Bunches

by Jill Valley

  The football player gives me a confused look. “No, no,” he says. “You have to have another one. How can we be gentlemanly if you don’t let us buy you drinks?”

  He has to lean over to be heard and Lizzy leans into him. Sometimes I wonder why she even bothers still dating Steven, but I know he’s a security blanket for her. She feels comfortable flirting, because she doesn’t mean anything by it.

  “I’m fine,” I say again.

  “No, no,” says the guy. “You have to let me buy you a drink. At least one more.”

  “She says she’s fine,” JJ cuts in. He’s being protective. He must see what a baby I am and how I don’t belong in a place like this. I have no idea what I’m doing, while he’s used to all of it.

  JJ’s obviously gotten good at reading lips, because it’s really loud in here. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the football player, even though the guy probably has two or three inches and a hundred pounds on him.

  The football player really focuses on JJ for the first time. He waits a beat, then he shrugs. He obviously doesn’t want to start a fight, at least not tonight.

  “Rounds for whoever wants them then,” he says.

  “I’ll have another,” says Lizzy, pushing her empty beer glass toward JJ. He takes it and disappears. I watch his shoulders lift and shrug. I watch the way his neck turns as he keeps an eye on everything going on. I feel my chest tighten as I remember how his girlfriend put her hand possessively on his chest and stood on her tiptoes to lean over the bar and kiss him.

  The third guy, who is smaller and has a ponytail of brown hair, is trying to talk to me, but I don’t have much interest in him. Somehow it’s easy to talk to a guy I don’t care about, because the periods of silence don’t bother me and I feel no need to help make conversation.

  “I’m Oliver,” he says, reaching out his hand. I shake it, more aware of JJ at one side of the bar than I am of the guy sitting there talking to me.

  “Nora,” I say, extending my hand to his. His hands are clammy, and I feel more uncomfortable than ever.

  “What do you do?” he asks.

  JJ comes over and gives me a look.

  I don’t know what to do, so I don’t do anything. JJ looks at Oliver, who has no idea how my stomach is churning because of the proximity of JJ.

  “We’re good, man, thanks,” he says. At least he was nice about it.

  “You here for long?” he asks.

  “Just the summer,” I say. “Then I go back to school in the fall. I can’t wait.”

  He nods. “Yeah, we get loads summer people. I live around here now, but I didn’t grow up here. You have big plans for the summer?”

  I shake my head. “Just working.”

  “And coming to the Remember?” he asks, lifting his shoulders and head as he says it.

  “Yes, she is,” says Lizzy, cutting in from her talk with the other football player.

  JJ reappears just as Aimee and her guy, Louis, come back.

  “That was awesome,” she coos. “Lizzy, you have to dance.”

  Lizzy only hesitates for a second, then she puts her glass down. “Let’s do it.”

  I feel lost as both of my friends leave me alone with Oliver. It’s not that he isn’t nice, he might be too nice, I just don’t talk to guys. Ever. Under any circumstances. The only guys I still talk to are my brother Ellis, and of course Steven, and I only talk to Steven because if I didn’t Lizzy would have a fit.

  I take a deep breath. I feel my chest tighten and my ears start to ring. I’ve nearly finished my drink and Oliver is asking me if I want another one, but I can’t really hear him.

  In the confusion battling inside of me I find myself looking for JJ, and lo and behold, he appears around the corner. I might just be imagining it, but I think his eyes are searching for me, too.

  He comes over to me, and I feel my chest loosen just the tiniest bit. I have no idea what I look like, but I’m pretty sure it’s pathetic.

  “Hey,” he says. “You okay?” He has to lean over the bar to say it, and he total ignores Oliver, who is watching his friends and barely notices that the bartender has come up to us. I have a strangely safe feeling.

  “Yes,” I say, breathing out. “Sorry, you probably think I’m pathetic.”

  JJ shakes his head. “Nope, stay as long as you want. It’s nice to have you.” He adds the last bit before he darts away again. I feel a pull to follow him, so I do it with my eyes. His expression is serious and concentrated. I watch his expert hands grab a glass and flip it a couple of times.

  JJ pays attention. I don’t like being the center of attention. I like to blend, but I have a feeling JJ doesn’t care. He’s good at what he does and he’s funny.

  Oh, and he’s gorgeous, as proven by the fact that every girl in the bar is staring daggers at me.

  “Do you give free drinks to all sorts of girls?”

  JJ leans away from me, looking momentarily surprised. Recovering quickly, he places his hands on the bar and pulls himself forward. “Well, there are tall girls and short girls. Um, blondes, brunettes, and redheads. Girls with freckles and girls without. I must say I’m partial to dimples.” He nips at my cheek with his thumb and index finger and heat spreads through my body.

  “So you give free drinks to lots of girls?” I ask, trying hard to focus.

  He grins. “It all started when I was eighteen. . . .”

  I roll my eyes at his joke as he pushes off from the bar and disappears again.

  “Sorry, what’d you say?” Oliver obviously said something to me, but I was too busy staring at JJ’s long, strong, expert hands to care.

  “I said, are you ready to go?” he asks. He nods to our friends. They’re over by the door, waiting for us. Apparently it was easier for them to make their way that way than to come back through the throng of drunken twenty-somethings.

  I look for JJ, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

  “We already took care of the bill,” says Oliver. I feel helpless. I don’t want to leave with these guys. I don’t want Oliver touching me. I grab Lizzy’s and Aimee’s cardigans and hop out of my bar chair. Without waiting for Oliver, I make my way toward them.

  I glance back once, but JJ is still nowhere to be seen. I wonder if his girlfriend is going to meet him when he’s done. I wonder if they live together. They probably do. I sigh. I need to talk to Lizzy and Aimee. Lizzy can see it in my face once we’re outside in the cool night air, and she sends the guys packing.

  “You need to get your priorities straight,” she explains to me once we’ve started walking and made sure the guys aren’t trying to come along. “Either you’re still hung up on what happened with Michael or you have a crush on the bartender with the girlfriend. It cannot be both.”

  “Those both sound like such good options,” I say sarcastically. Then, more seriously, “I just feel so safe with him. I don’t know why. Do I need a reason?”

  Lizzy shrugs. “I thought he looked a little familiar. Maybe you knew him from somewhere. Anyway, your answer is clear. You need to go back to the bar sometime when it’s not so loud and crowded, and then you can have a chance to talk to him.”

  I shake my head. Aimee is walking next to us, agreeing with everything Lizzy is saying.

  “It’s all well and good for you two,” I say. “You can pick up two cute guys in a bar and then send them on their way like it’s nothing. I’m not like that.”

  “You can be,” says Lizzy gently. “You just have to let him go.”

  In the cool night air, with darkness surrounding us and our footsteps and my heartbeat the only sounds, my tired eyes scan the quiet, tree-lined street and I realize something for the first time. I tiredly wrap my arms more closely around myself. Letting go might be the hardest thing of all.

  Chapter Eight - JJ

  The last thing in the world I wanted to happen was to have Jessie show up. We have a deal, and part of it involves her not just showing up at the Remember. She doesn’t really like that I own a bar. Whe
n she’s angry she reminds me that her family doesn’t approve.

  What’s funny is that I might not be good boyfriend material for Jessie, but it has nothing to do with my bartending. It has to do with my father and my mother and what that made me.

  “You didn’t look thrilled to see your lady tonight,” Sylvan comments. He’s several beers, and hours, in at this point.

  I shrug. “Was it that obvious?”

  “She’s an alright girl,” says Sylvan. His eyes are distant and I wonder if he’s thinking about his lost love. “Not right for you, though. She’s too insecure and you own a bar. It’s never going to work that way.”

  I think that’s the least of our problems, and I know it’s never going to work. I never expected to marry her, but you can’t date The One every time, especially when you have a past like mine.

  Sylvan realizes that too. He tilts his head, studying me. “But you’re with her for other reasons and not just because she’s gorgeous.”

  I give him a wry smile. “Thanks for complimenting my girlfriend.”

  The bar is closing down, but Sylvan knows us well enough to do pretty much whatever he wants.

  He’s the only one left sitting at the bar, having paid his tab a long time ago, and I’m not going to kick a cop out, especially a friend, and especially when I’m having trouble with the Black Jack. I’m tired, but I like these early morning chats with Sylvan. They help me wind down after most of my employees have gone to find somewhere else to drink for a few hours.

  Sylvan chuckles. “Like I said, she’s a nice enough girl. Just not for you. She wants normal, and given your past that will never be you. I know the feeling.”

  He tilts up his beer, finishing it. “Not that there’s anything wrong with normal, but who wants that for the love of his life?”

  “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say,” says Lila, who’s tiredly wiping down the bar. “Not that I’ve heard you say many romantic things.”

  “You sad about that?” asks Sylvan. Lila and Sylvan flirt, but I know neither of them means anything by it. Sylvan isn’t Lila’s type - too male - and I can’t find anyone who seems to be Sylvan’s type.

  Anyhow, what Sylvan says hit closer to home than I like. Jessie has her own life. She’s a strong, independent woman, and I like that about her, but I feel bad wasting her time. I’m never going to be able to let her get as close as she wants, and I feel bad about that, too.

  I’ve managed to put off moving in with her, which is what she wants, but she’s pressuring me more and more. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep avoiding it.

  “You should just tell her,” Sylvan says. He’s watching my face closely and I’m sure he can read what I’m thinking.

  “I like my girlfriend,” I say. “She’s good to me.”

  “Right, but what’s good for you? You have problems and you need a girl who can see through the shit. You need a girl who, when you think of having a relationship with her, doesn’t terrify the fuck out of you. And shouldn’t you love her by now?”

  “Are you saying this for your benefit or mine?” I ask him. I would almost be amused if he weren’t right.

  I date girls like Jessie because they’re so oblivious to who I actually am that they don’t notice that I could never love them or treat them as they should really be treated. Jessie is a way to pass the time and divert attention from my bachelor status. I was never meant to love someone, not after what I saw my dad do.

  “You and Jessie have to end. Either you have to do it, or she has to realize some unpleasant truths. You saw her tonight. She wasn’t even happy to be here. She’s standing in your dream and she’s unhappy to be there.” Sylvan shakes his head. “That’s fun for you?”

  I grimace. Jessie hates that I own a bar, never mind that I work hard and it’s an impressive place. She, and her father, think it’s beneath me, or rather, they think it’s beneath the guy who’s dating Jessie. But it is what it is.

  I like Jessie because she’s safe. She takes care of herself and she doesn’t try to take care of me. It’s a good thing. I’m a lost cause, and I highly doubt there’s any girl who can find me. Even an incredibly innocent and sad one with cascades of glorious dark hair.

  Chapter Nine - Nora

  I roll around in bed the next morning, Saturday, reluctant to get up. I heard Nancy leave for a jog a long time ago. She’s a running machine. She goes for miles, comes home, showers, then disappears. I might get through the whole summer without even talking to her.

  I feel like I made a fool of myself last night and I don’t even know why.

  I endlessly relive JJ’s and my interaction from his point of view. He must think I’m a total child.

  Lizzy told me last night that she would text me when she woke up, but she loves to sleep past noon. I get up and make myself breakfast, just cereal, then I take a shower. I throw on jean shorts and a hoodie and stagger down the stairs. I’ve never been never much of a coffee drinker, but after last night I need it.

  I’m almost to the coffee shop when I see familiar broad shoulders and dark hair, a gray t-shirt stretched over a muscular chest. I come to a dead stop in the middle of the street.

  Across the road is JJ. He’s alone, just sort of strolling in the direction of the coffee shop. It’s a strange sensation to have your heart start bouncing out of your chest right when you were feeling calmer. I want to dart behind a tree, but that seems silly.

  I wonder if he’s heading for the same coffee shop. I steel myself and cross the street. I don’t want to change my plan, after all, and maybe he won’t even remember me anyhow.

  I open the door to the coffee shop.

  For a horrible second I wonder if he’s meeting his beautiful girlfriend, but the place is deserted. JJ is leaning on the counter, talking to the guy taking his order. The barista is young, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed, which he probably did.

  The coffee shop has several tables made of wood, with a variety of colorful chairs pushed up around them. The walls are a muted blue, comforting and cozy. It looks like a great place to sit and read.

  I stand far enough behind JJ so that when he turns around he won’t bump into me. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to get close to him, not that anything like that would even cross his mind. He might not even remember me from last night. He’s only seen me twice and he sees so many faces at the bar, why would I stick out from the crowd?

  I’m afraid to touch him, afraid of how it might make me feel, and how I might react afterwards. It’s not JJ’s fault that seeing him brings something to life in me that I thought had drowned.

  “Coffee it is,” says the guy behind the counter, giving me a friendly nod.

  JJ glances at me, then glances at me again. He doesn’t even try to hide the double-take. I see surprise register on his face, but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. I feel my face burn red at the realization that he recognizes me. I want to smile or nod or say something smooth, but I am so not smooth. I’m the opposite of smooth. I’m sandpaper.

  He turns around to me with a smile as he takes his coffee. Unnecessarily, I step out of his way and he moves past me, giving me another smile and a little wave. Frozen, I just stare at him. I needed alcohol and two friends and pulsing noise to make me brave enough to talk to him last night. Now I’m just doing an excellent impression of a statue.

  JJ’s face falls a fraction, and I hear the doorbell tinkle as he leaves. My face is still burning as I look at the guy behind the counter.

  He looks back at me. He has badly dyed red hair, bright blue eyes, and a lip ring, and he’s really tall and thin. His skin is so pale that his freckles look like dots of sand on snow.

  “Well,” he says expansively. “That was awkward.”

  I’m so surprised I just stare at him.

  He cracks his knuckles and raises his eyebrows at me. He expects a response. Poor guy has no idea who he’s dealing with. If there was a crown for socially inept around attractive, I�
�d be wearing it. “Ah, well, I guess my initial assessment was wrong,” he adds.

  “Huh?” I manage to squeak out.

  “You saw Gorgeous and your face looked like Christmas morning. I assumed you had hooked up with him and it had been great, even though you don’t really look like the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. There’s no better explanation. Now, by your dumbfounded expression, I see how wrong I was.”

  “Do you make it a habit of reading people?” I say.

  He grins at me. “I have to do something to pass the time.”

  I find myself smiling back.

  “Noah, take the girl’s order,” someone yells from the back. It’s a gravelly voice, old and commanding, filled with pepper and vinegar.

  The barista known as Noah grins at me. “My grandmother. She owns the place. Don’t worry, Loverboy was happy to see you, too. Thus the wave that you ignored.”

  Noah laughs at the dumbfounded expression I continue to give him.

  “He didn’t even recognize me,” I say, placing my hands on the counter. They aren’t shaking, which is a good sign. Usually they shake when I talk to strangers. I think it’s because I’m afraid they’ll somehow ask me about my past, or they’ll already know. I know, it’s another thing I should add to the bucket list of things to get over.

  “Of course he did,” says Noah, scoffing. “He waved. This is a friendly town, but it’s not that friendly. I haven’t seen a guy that happy to see a woman in a long time. Those gray eyes don’t give away much, but I could see his pulse racing.”

  Somehow his use of the word woman throws me off. I still think of myself as a girl.

  Probably because of interactions like that.

  “Yes, you’re a woman and he likes you,” says Noah, shaking his head dramatically at me. “Gosh, whoever thought I would have so much relationship advice to dispense before ten a.m. on a Saturday.”

  “Not your grandmother, who thought you should be working,” comes the woman’s voice again.

  Noah rolls his eyes. The sun pouring in from the window glints off of the bazillion earrings he’s wearing. “Grams has so many grandchildren she can’t even count them. She just uses us as slave labor.”