“I didn’t really think you’d say okay.” He confessed, and Anna rolled her eyes.
“Well, I suppose we should make plans to hang out, then.”
“What about…lunch? Maybe…Thursday?” She thought about it for a moment, considering how, this time last week, Drew Whitman was barely even a flicker on her radar.
And here she was, sitting next to him, actually contemplating spending more time with him.
It wasn’t so out of the question, she knew. As he’d already pointed out, she had, long ago, been on the way to becoming—well, something to Drew, even if it had just been another notch on his bedpost.
She had resolved against that then, though, and this—this was different.
And he wasn’t wrong, she had to admit. Anna could count the number of people she considered “friends” on one hand.
It was strange, how that happened. She realized that it wasn’t the loss of Jeff as her lover that was hurting the most, but rather the loss of his friendship. There was something that changed, she realized, as she’d gotten older. Her friends had slowly drifted away, and she’d come to rely on Jeff as both her best friend and her partner.
Was it like that for everyone?
“I could do lunch. Thursday, you said?”
“Thursday should work just fine, Annabelle.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, she thought she heard just the faintest glimmer of excitement in Drew’s voice.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to it, too.
Chapter Five
Anna sighed as she stared out the window. She should have known better than to attempt an actual friendship with Drew Whitman.
Now that she was here, waiting, she wondered how Jeff had put up with him for so long. Drew lived his life as if he was the only one that mattered—as if everything centered around him, and he could do as he pleased without ever facing the consequences.
She felt like an idiot. As if humiliating her once wasn’t enough—oh no, he had to rub salt in the wound.
With another loud sigh, she tossed a few bills on the table to pay for the coffee she’d had while she waited for him and rose to her feet, shaking her head. She pulled her coat on and left through the doors she had entered nearly forty-five minutes ago, heading directly for the parking lot.
Her phone began to ring a few minutes into the drive back to the community center, but Anna refused to answer it.
He’d had his chance—it wasn’t her fault that he’d blown it.
She was sure to smile at Crystal as she passed through the front entrance, hurrying along the way to her office. All she wanted to do was get back to work and put this afternoon behind her.
Deep down, Anna knew she should have expected this from him. But she hadn’t prepared herself for the rejection, and it hurt much worse than it should.
Her phone continued to ring and, finally, she placed it on silent and threw it in the drawer of her desk.
That was much, much better, she thought to herself as she shifted her focus to the spreadsheet in front of her. The end of the month was always stressful, what with maintaining various budgets and finalizing activity calendars.
It couldn’t have been ten minutes later when a knock sounded on her door and she rose, expecting to find Crystal waiting—but, as usual, Drew Whitman caught her off guard.
He held up a plain white bag.
“I brought dessert.”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t had lunch yet.” She told him, her face a mask. She braced herself against the door, set on not letting him pass.
“I’m guessing some jerk must have stood you up.”
“Oh, he’s a jerk, all right.” Drew tilted his head to the side, his blue eyes finding hers.
“I’m sorry, Annabelle. I got held up at work—”
“And you didn’t think to pick up the phone?”
“I was called into a meeting. I honestly didn’t expect it to take nearly as long as it did.” He held up the bag again, giving it a little shake. “I promise, this is the best cherry pie you’ll ever taste.”
“Drew, maybe we should just…”
“Just give me one more chance, Annabelle. I swear—I won’t let this kind of thing happen again.”
She weighed her options, the tantalizing scent of the pie filling the room.
“I’m only doing this for the pie, just so you know.” She held open the door, allowing him in. A child-like grin flashed across his lips and she couldn’t help the smile that touched her own as she ducked her head, refusing to let him see it.
“Well, you won’t regret it.” He waited for her to take a seat before he sat in the chair in front of her desk, taking two containers from the bag. “The pie, or my company.”
“We’ll see about that.” She was already regretting them both.
“Scout’s honor.”
“For some reason, I highly doubt you were ever a boy scout.” She took the fork he offered her.
“Okay, so Jeff was the scout. I just sort of…watched.” She smiled again, despite herself. “But I was very supportive.”
“I doubt that, too.” He looked up just in time to catch her taking her first bite of the pie. She covered her mouth with her hand, doing her very best not to close her eyes.
The pie was pure bliss.
“It would seem that you know me much better than I had thought.” He told her, taking a bite of his own piece. Anna swallowed before she met his eyes.
“I know your kind well, Mr. Whitman.”
Before Jeff, Anna had wasted quite a lot of time on boys very similar to Drew.
“I like to think I’m not quite what you would expect.” He told her.
She had a feeling she was going to find out.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” she predicted.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised, Annabelle.” She was struck once again by the urge to ask him why he called her that—and, for the first time in a very, very long time, she actually thought about the first time she’d met Drew.
He’d been both charming and vile that night, and in spite of herself, she had been drawn to him—drawn to that devilish glimmer in his eyes, to the brief excitement his kiss had brought her.
“So—what do you think about the pie?” His words brought her back to the present.
“I hate to admit it…but you were right.” She pushed the empty container away.
“Possibly the most beautiful words ever spoken.” Drew leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.
“You were still a jerk.” She couldn’t help herself. His expression sobered and he leaned forward, resting his arms on her desk.
“I know. I had every intention of being there. But I was called into a meeting right after the show ended, by my boss…and there was literally no way of getting out of it. I promise you—I tried.” He tilted his head to the side, offering her the same smile he had probably used on a countless number of women. “Can we still be friends?”
But even through the boyish charm, there was a certain sincerity about Drew that she had always recognized. Jeff wouldn’t have been so close to someone for so long if they didn’t deserve it, and he and Drew had been friends since they were kids.
Anna just had to see through the bad-boy façade.
“You’re lucky I’m desperate enough to even consider it.” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re going to have to make it up to me.”
“I don’t doubt that for even a second.” He grinned, then, a tiny, little dimple appearing. “On that note—have your tastes in music improved, or are you still a dreaded Beatles fanatic?”
Anna glared at him from across her desk. It was one of the first real discussions they’d had, way back when they had first started hanging out. She had been wearing a Beatles shirt on one occasion, and Drew had told her they were “alright”, but the face of rock’n’roll was indisputably transformed by the Stones—to which she had argued
that there would be no Rolling Stones without the Beatles.
“Is insulting my taste in music your idea of ‘making it up to me’? Because I have to say—”
“Actually, I was going to invite you to a show.” He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. “There’s this tribute band—though, really, they’re more than that. They put on a pretty good show, and they’re going to be at Canon’s Pub.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “When?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s tomorrow night, actually.”
She spent a few moments looking at her phone, as if she was trying to figure out if she could squeeze it in.
“I don’t know…” She paused for a moment. “I think I could probably swing that.”
She could squeeze it in between eating a pint of ice cream and crying through the movie-of-the-week.
“I mean, if you think you can stomach decent music for an extended period of time. I’m assuming your position hasn’t changed.”
“I think it’s a sacrifice I’m going to have to make. You know, in the name of friendship and all.”
What was she getting herself into?
~*~
A wonderful evening, as it turned out.
It had started out pretty rough, and several times she’d considered not even going. But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She didn’t know why, but she had believed Drew when he’d told her that he had been stuck at work. He hadn’t stood her up on purpose, and she wasn’t going to do it to him.
So she’d spent at least thirty minutes trying on various outfits, feeling as if she were getting ready for a date rather than what she was actually doing.
Which, she had assumed, was really just setting herself up to be stood up and disappointed all over again.
Finally, though, she had settled on a dressy black top with a pair of jeans—bar casual, she had concluded. Completely acceptable to wear on a non-date.
When she finally arrived at the popular bar, having insisted on meeting him there, Anna had been pleasantly surprised to find that not only hadn’t Drew stood her up—but it appeared he had arrived early.
She found him sitting at a table near the stage, a beer in front of him. Almost as soon as she’d taken her seat, the waitress brought one over for her as well.
“I’m a little surprised you came.” He admitted after she’d settled in, taking a sip of the heavy beer—Guinness, she recognized.
“I figured, after what you did for me, at the very least, I had to make an appearance.” She told him.
“Stand you up?” He asked, referring to their lunch date. Anna rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head. Was he really going to make her say it?
“No, Drew. The other stuff.”
“Pie?” She couldn’t tell if he was just messing with her or if he was really that dense. She rolled her eyes again, this time sighing loudly. She took another sip of her Guinness.
“No…you know, preventing me from making a few terrible choices.”
“Oh. That.” She felt her cheeks flush and she shifted her eyes to the table, pretending to read the menu. “So you’re not mad at me for lunch?”
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she looked up at him, shaking her head. She wished she could tell him how grateful she was that he wasn’t pushing the issue, but as she met his eyes from across the table, something told her that he already knew.
“Let’s just say that, if it happens again, you’re going to need a lot more than pie and some cover band to find your way back into my good graces.”
“Cover band?” Drew’s expression grew very serious as he shook his head. “The Abby Roadies are no such thing, Miss Annabelle Maloy. They are a tribute band. There’s a big difference.”
“I’m sure there is.”
“You’ll be singing a different tune by the end of the night.”
“Want to bet?” she asked, leaning forward.
“What do I get if I win?” Drew leaned forward too, resting his arms on the table. She couldn’t help but notice the bright blue of his eyes. She’d always thought he had beautiful eyes.
“What do you want?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that they sounded an awful lot like a proposition. He seemed to realize it too, and he raised an eyebrow at her. Anna rolled her eyes and shook her head at him—they both knew that wasn’t something he was interested in.
“Well, if that’s off the table…” He tilted his head to the side, thinking for a long moment. She watched as four guys took the stage behind him, barely paying attention. “If I win, then I want a dance.”
“That’s it?”
“I didn’t say what kind of dance.”
“Drew…” Anna warned.
“Fine, then. If I win, I’ll take the sweet satisfaction of hearing you tell me that I’m right, and you’re wrong.” Anna laughed then, nodding her agreement. That was something she could consent to. “Sorry, I’m not used to this whole platonic thing. I’m pretty sure I’ve never been friends with a girl before.”
“Well, welcome to the world of adults, Drew Whitman. It’s nice here—you might even think of buying a little real estate.” She smiled as she patted him on the hand before leaning back and taking a long drink from her glass.
“Yeah, yeah…just watch the show.”
~*~
Two hours later, she had to admit—Drew was right. The Abby Roadies were much more than a cover band—in fact, they were as close to the real thing as Anna could imagine existing. They looked similar to the original Beatles, especially with their costumes, and they sounded so close to the real deal that if she’d had another couple of beers, she might not have known the difference.
“Could you say that just one more time?” Drew asked as they stepped outside.
“You were right, I was wrong…” It was at least the third time she’d said it, and she refused to say it any more.
“Music to my ears. Especially after that ruckus.” Before Anna could stop herself, she reached out and hit Drew in the arm. “Okay, okay, it wasn’t that bad.”
“I really did have a lot of fun.” She admitted as they neared her car. “Thank you.”
“What are friends for?”
“Exactly.” It was all that much clearer to her how right Drew had been when he’d suggested that she could use a friend. She hadn’t had so much fun in—well, she couldn’t remember how long. Not with her sister, and certainly not with Jeff.
And all she’d done was sit at a table and enjoy some music.
“So—should we do this again?” he proposed.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.” Anna told him. “Maybe lunch some time this week?”
“Lunch sounds good.” He offered her that boyish grin of his and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. It was impossible not to share in Drew’s jovial nature. “I’ll…text you?”
“Texting is good.” She nodded, opening her car door and standing behind it.
“Well, then, good night, Miss Annabelle. It was wonderful to hear you tell me how smart I am. We’ll definitely have to do that again some time.”
“Good night, Drew,” she rolled her eyes at him as she climbed into the car, feigning annoyance.
But she didn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.
Chapter Six
Drew was leaning back into his very comfortable couch, a controller in his hand and a video game on the screen. It was Sunday, and he’d had yet to find a reason to get in touch with Anna.
Sure, he knew he was supposed to text her about setting up another non-date. But it felt weird to just…ask her. He had begun a number of messages before discarding them all.
He sighed loudly as he tossed the controller aside and found the remote. There was a football game starting, and he would be in for it tomorrow morning if he didn’t at least watch some of it.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy his job—he did. He knew he was incredibly lucky to be able to get paid for ta
lking—and not even about anything important. He could spout whatever silly nonsense he wanted, within reason, of course—and people just came back for more.
They loved the character he’d created.
The very same character that would definitely not have spent his weekend trying to figure out what to say to a girl he most definitely wasn’t trying to date.
He felt like he was in high school again.
Not that Drew had ever really been that guy in school, either. No, he had always been the kind of guy that women just sort of…opened themselves up to.
Which was why this was really getting to him.
Anna wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. He knew that. Aside from that drunken offer, he was pretty sure she would never even consider it, for one. And two, she was his best friend’s girlfriend.
Ex girlfriend.
Which put them smack-dab in the middle of Friendship County.
Maybe that’s what it was—maybe he was just having so much trouble because he was truly in unfamiliar territory. He knew how to flirt with a girl. He knew how to make her smile at just the right moments, and he knew when to cross that line.
What he didn’t know was how to stop himself from doing all of that.
Or wanting to do that.
He remembered how, when they’d been at the pub, she had leaned forward with a competitive glint in her eye. And, for just the briefest moment, he remembered what it felt like to touch his lips to hers. How the world had faded away, and he’d wanted nothing more than to just keep on kissing her.
Just a moment, and he’d shoved it away.
Mostly, anyway.
When Drew’s phone sounded from the coffee table in front of him, he lunged forward, grabbing at it hopefully.
And he tried to ignore the disappointment when he realized it was a message from Jeff.
But when he read the text, a new disappointment took it’s place.
Jeff: Don’t hate me. I have to cancel next weekend.
Before he knew what he was doing, Drew swiped his thumb across the text so that he could call him.
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