by Kira Berger
Something is happening, and I hate not being in the know.
Suddenly nervous, I try to deflect, “Ah, well… Anyway, how’s the Shrimp Lo Mein?”
“It’s delicious. This place is great. I have a feeling I’ll be ordering takeout from them way too much in the future,” she comments while shoving another mouthful into her mouth. And she’s right; the food is delicious.
“So, tell me. What’s going on between you and Duncan? And don’t ‘nothing’ me, I can tell something is going on.”
“I–I—What?” I sputter, totally caught off guard. It’s a good thing I wasn’t drinking anything, or the wine would have been all over the food and Emma.
I didn’t expect anyone to notice. I mean I have been avoiding him for most of the week. How can she tell that something, whatever it is, is going on? That he seems to think something is going to happen between us, when clearly, I am not going there.
Though, I bet he’s great in bed. All that power in his frame. I have no doubt he’d be able to hold me against a wall while pounding into me.
Shit! No!
I struggle to shake these types of thoughts. It’s bad enough I have been dreaming about him at night, there is no need for me to do this during the day, too. At least while conscious I can control my thoughts, unlike when I’m asleep.
From the disbelieving look Emma’s giving me I haven’t fooled anyone with my avoidance act.
Fuck. I wonder who all has noticed.
That’s the downside of working at a school. You’d think adults would be above the gossip the students indulge in, but you’d be surprised. The teachers are worse than the students, or at least some of them. It’s like a small village. Things spread like wildfire with no way to put it out until it ran its course.
Clearing my throat, I try for nonchalant this time. “I have no clue what you mean. There is absolutely nothing going on. Nil. Nada. Zero. Zilch.” I cut myself off before I started switching languages.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Emma wisecracks.
“Oh, don’t you quote Hamlet on me. You’re too nosy for your own good,” I grumble.
“So, there is something going on?” Her eyes grow big. She’s either fishing or excited about the prospect of something going on.
I sigh, there is just no shaking her. She’s like a dog with a bone, that’s quite obvious. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this today. Trust me, nothing worth discussing is going on. Can we just drop it, at least for now? Please.”
My face must have conveyed how much I didn’t want to talk about this because she actually dropped it. “Fine. I get it. Just know, I’m here if you need to talk about it. We all know life can become overwhelming and crazy, and you need to let it out. You can’t keep the craziness bottled up inside of you forever, you’ll explode. And I certainly do not want to be anywhere close when that happens.” She shoots me a smile to let me know she’s joking. “Anyway, I’m a good listener, and I’m really good at giving advice.”
I put my plate on the coffee table before I reach over to grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “I know. Same goes for you.” I give her a pointed look. She might be all up in my shit about Duncan, but she’s not any better. She has her own secrets; I can see it in her eyes—the darkness, the sadness. But unlike her I won’t push. She’ll talk to me when she’s ready, unlike me. I’ll never be going there, no one deserves to be straddled with my shit.
We eat the rest of our dinner while talking about our week and what gossip we heard around school. (I never said I was above gossiping myself.) We laugh and get to know one another while enjoying a bottle of Riesling.
Chapter Nine
A couple hours and a bottle of wine later, Emma and I head out to The Double Deuce a couple blocks from my apartment. Apparently, I live close to the street where the few popular bars in this town are located.
Walking down the rather quiet street in heels, holding on to one another while laughing our asses off for no reason, we make quite the spectacle.
I blame the wine.
Once we make it to the bar, we walk inside without being carded and head straight for the bar.
Yelling over the music, I ask her, “What do you want?”
“I’ll just stick with white wine.”
“You sure?” When she nods, I shrug and turn to the bartender.
“What can I get you, beautiful?” he asks while staring at my cleavage. I roll my eyes and sigh. Fucking men…
“My tits are fine right now, but I’ll take a white wine, Riesling if you have it, and a gin and tonic, Hendricks with cucumber.” At this, his eyes snap up to mine, and he smiles unrepentant.
“Coming right up, kitten.” The nickname sets my teeth on edge. What is it with men and giving women they don’t even know degrading nicknames? And why the hell didn’t it bother me when Duncan called me “baby”?
Ugh, I need to get my head examined. This split personality I have going on when it comes to Duncan is starting to really piss me off.
Hearing Emma snicker from behind me doesn’t help my irritation.
When he puts the drinks in front of me, I hand him the money without saying a word and turn around, passing Emma her drink. When she sees my expression, she bursts out laughing. Which only causes me to scowl harder.
“What?” I practically growl. I take a sip of my gin, hoping it will dissipate my mood. Not very smart, but what can I say, I wasn’t in a smart mood, more in a let’s-forget-my-life-sucks-and-have-a-blast mood.
“My God, you’re resting bitch face is impressive. I’m surprised you didn’t clear out the room with it,” Emma says. I can tell she’s joking by the fact that she’s having a hard time fighting her smile or holding in her snort of amusement.
Taking a breath, I let it go. I’m here to have fun, not be a bitch to people just because they talk to me. “I do my best. If you ever need its services, let me know,” I say with a smile. “C’mon, let’s go find a table.”
It’s still early enough there aren’t that many people here yet. Looking around the room while following Emma, I notice there is a stage running along the back wall, across from the bar. Looks like they might have live music every now and then. I hope. The bar itself is actually pretty big, bigger than what it looks like from the outside. A few tables are scattered on the edges near the walls for those who want to sit. The way it’s set up, it is obvious the center of the room and the area in front of the stage is intended as a dance floor.
When I set my drink on the table Emma selected, I notice she’s texting. Remembering the way she acted earlier when I alluded to her having casual sex, I can’t help but tease her again.
“Some hot admirer texting you?” I ask, leaning toward her.
Her head jerks up at this, her eyes growing big, and I wonder what this is all about. She’s been acting weird all evening, seemingly lost in thought every now and then. The deer-in-headlights expression vanishes quickly though, and a sly smile graces her face.
Not good. What the hell is she up to.
“Nope. Nothing of the sort. I have zero admirers of any kind and don’t intend to find one.”
I’m a little taken aback by the force behind her voice and the steely determination in the depth of her eyes. “Why?”
For a minute, she looks confused. I wonder if anyone ever bothered to ask her this. The stern look leaves her face and she smiles at me. “Let’s just say been there, done that, and got the scars to prove it.”
“I hear ya,” I mutter. I wish I could offer her reassurances that not everyone is going to fuck her over and putting yourself out there will be worth it. But I can’t bring myself to give her empty platitudes I don’t believe in myself. I’m not that big of a hypocrite.
“Well, how about we celebrate being single then? Get drunk, dance, have fun without men interfering?” I raise my glass, waiting for her to join me.
“Hear, hear,” she says with a smile, the shadows gone from her eyes.
I take a
sip of my drink while we chat about nothing consequential but the little things you speak about when you get to know someone.
Noticing our drinks are getting low, I get up to grab another round. “I’m going to grab some more drinks. Do you want wine or something else?” I shout to be heard across the table. I wonder when they turned the music up.
“You know what, I’ll have a G and T, too. Let’s partaay,” she yells the last part, causing me to laugh and the table next to us to stare at her.
“You got it, girl.”
I make my way back to the bar, which is quite a bit harder this time around since the place has filled up in the short time we’ve been here. I didn’t even notice. This might just turn into one unforgettable night.
Making it to the bar, I squeeze in between people and make eye contact with the bartender from last time. Smiling at me, he saunters over, all long-legged and loose hips.
“What can I get ya, kitten.” His smirk is cocky, like he doesn’t care whatsoever I didn’t respond to his advances before.
“Two gin and tonics, please,” I tell him, trying not to show my annoyance. He just smiles at me. “Oh,” I yell before he can turn away. “And two tequila shots. Patron,” I order. I fully intend to let loose tonight, and what better way to do that then tequila? Plus, one or two shots I can handle, it’s when I pass three that I start to sail past the hilarious and cute drunk stage straight to shit-faced.
I look at the people standing at the bar while I wait. The people around me range from casually dressed men and women in jeans to women dressed up in heels and dresses, while others are sporting cowboy boots. And is that a cowboy hat I see? It totally is.
I’m already in love with this place. From the eclectic music, to the décor, the people, but most especially the vibe; it makes you feel right at home, no matter who you are.
“Here you go.” The bartender grabs my attention when he sets my drinks in front of me. Still distracted by my surroundings, I hand over money wordlessly and start grabbing the drinks. “You good with that?” I hear from in front of me.
I used to be a waitress during my college years, carrying two glasses and two shot glasses isn’t an issue and a lot easier to do than to carry a tray through this crowd.
I smile at the bartender while grabbing the two shot glasses. “I’m good, thanks though.”
Turning around, I make my way back to Emma. I’m looking at the floor to make sure I don’t trip while I walk, which turns out to be a good and bad thing. Good thing because if I would have seen who was standing at our table I’d have tripped for sure and spilled our drinks. Bad because if I had looked I’d have seen them standing there, and I could have prepared myself for the sight. And possibly run the opposite direction.
As it turns out, I made it all the way to the table and even put the drinks down before I looked up to find two sets of the same blue eyes staring at me. But my eyes are captured by Duncan’s gaze. He positively ensnares me with his intensity. Even though I try, I can’t look away. I’m enthralled by the blaze in his eyes—lust, admiration, tenderness. But there is more to it, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s smugness.
What is going on? Something doesn’t add up. How did he find us? I mean sure, I did tell him we were going to out tonight, but this is not the only bar in the area, not by a long shot.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says at the same time I say, “What the fuck are you doing here?” This causes all three of them to burst out laughing. I shoot Duncan and Emma a dirty look before I look at the other guy. I don’t take the time to study him before I snap, “And you are?”
And the bitch comes out to play. It’s pretty much a reflex by now. Something or someone makes me feel cornered and she lashes out. And being blindsided by Duncan’s presence when I have been trying to escape it definitely doesn’t make me feel safe.
Duncan interrupts my thoughts with a couple words that slay me because they bring back memories of the ones I lost. “Alex, this is my brother, Brendan.”
“She’s feisty, bro. I like it,” Brendan says with a blinding smile. I narrow my eyes at him, trying not to show the irrational pain coursing through my body. I can see the resemblance. Knowing they’re brothers makes it pretty obvious; the same shade of blue eyes, chiseled features, except his nose seems to be unblemished, unlike his brother’s. But the biggest difference is the hair; Brendan’s is such a dark shade of black, it looks like it has a blue tinge to it.
He’s hot. No doubt about it. Just not as hot as Duncan, or maybe that’s this weird attraction I feel toward him speaking. Fuck, I need to get rid of these ridiculous feelings.
“It’s nice to meet you, Alex. I was going to stop by the apartment sooner to introduce my—” I don’t let him finish because something finally clicks in my head. Brendan, of course.
“You! You’re my landlord who’s been telling me for a week he’ll stop by?” I ask surprised, but slowly move to irritated. I’d like to say I don’t know why I’m annoyed with someone I don’t know, but that’d be a lie. I do. He’s been telling me for a week now that he’ll stop by, each time canceling last minute with the excuse he got called into work. But even as a cop, no one is that busy. I’m sure there are laws against working so much, aren’t there? My mind just automatically believes he’s lying for some reason.
“Yep, that’d be me.” He shoots me what I’m sure is a charming smile to everyone else. But luckily, it doesn’t work on me. The fact that his brother’s does is something I’m going to ignore. Denial has always been my best friend.
“Huh. So, I guess you have time to come out for a beer, but don’t have ten minutes to spare to meet the person renting your apartment. I could be crazy, systematically destroying it without you ever knowing. Did you think of that?” Without even realizing, my hands made it to my hips, displaying a pose I’m sure men around the globe learned to recognize.
“Ah, actually no. I didn’t think you’d be a crazy person. Mostly because Mr. Harris vouched for you, and I had you checked out before I rented to you.” His smirk is downright devious.
I gasp in outrage, totally forgetting I just reprimanded him for not checking me out. “You what? Why would you run a check on me?”
Exchanging a quick glance with Duncan, his smile grows before he answers me. “Well, as you said you could be a crazy person.” His tone leaves no doubt that he thinks I am actually crazy, maybe just not the destroy-your-house kind of crazy. And I’m aware I sound nuts, but choose to ignore it, for my sanity. “Since I was busy all week and kept canceling on you, I figured I come tonight to meet you, the girl my baby brother can’t shut up about. Give some moral support. Looks like he’s gonna need it.”
I don’t know how to deal with the fact that Duncan told his brother all about me, so I bury it deep and ignore Brendan’s comment. I debate for a second whether I should continue to be a bitch or let it go. He did come out to meet me after all. I guess even I can’t be a bitch in the face of that.
“Well then…” I say, having the wind taken out of my sails and unsure what to say now. Everyone just seems to stare at me like they’re waiting for what I’ll say next. As if it’s something they don’t want to miss. I’m trying to find a neutral topic to discuss, something that wouldn’t piss me off or turn me on. With no clue how to diffuse the awkwardness, I look back at Duncan and ask, “How’s your car?”
“It’s running again. Brendan came out to help me fix it before we drove here for a drink.” The smile he shoots me lets me know just how much he enjoys seeing me uncomfortable around him.
The fucker.
Deciding not to bother further with polite conversation, I turn to Emma and slide her drink and a shot toward her before I take a sip of my own. I have a feeling I’ll need it tonight.
“Is this tequila?” At my nod, she replies, “I’m allergic, sorry.” She looks sheepish, as if she’s embarrassed for some reason.
“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry.” I snatch the shot away from her. “I’ll remember this. B
ut poor you, no margaritas on Taco Tuesdays.” I give her big dramatic eyes, hoping to loosen the tension I can suddenly see radiating from her. And if the smile she shoots me is anything to go by, it worked.
This is when I suddenly remember something, like someone sneaking up on you from behind and yelling boo, it jolts me and puts me instantly on edge. I knew something about this situation was bugging me.
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “How the hell did you know we’d be here?” I stare at Duncan, yet I do not miss the look Brendan and Emma exchange out of the corner of my eye. And something clicks: Emma told them. That’s why she was texting all night.
“You have got to be kidding me? Emma, why would you tell him where we are?”
“Well, for one, he asked me. I like Duncan. So why not? Whether or not you want to acknowledge it, there is something going on between you two. A blind monk can see that. So yes, I did it for your own good. No one said you have to fuck him,” —Brendan chokes on his drink at this, but I’m too busy staring her down to take notice— “but avoiding him obviously doesn’t work either, for neither one of you. Plus, the sexual tension is suffocating everyone at work. So, I took it upon myself to do something about the situation. You can thank me later.”
I’m not sure what to say to this. She’s right; something is going on between Duncan and me, whether or not I want it to. I just hate being blindsided like this. But if I were honest with myself, I would have probably done the same thing in her shoes.
“Don’t be too mad at her, I practically begged her to tell me. It was pathetic, really.” I can tell Duncan’s trying to lighten the mood. “I thought it might be a good idea for us to just hang out, get to know one another in a casual setting with people around.”
I’m not sure how to react to all of this; it’s too much coming at me at once. Emma and her meddling ways, Duncan being here, and even meeting his brother, which would be a bit of a big deal if I had any intention of going there with Duncan. My first instinct, like always, is to run. Run back home, crawl into bed, and pretend this never happened.
