Page 81 of Under the Weatherman
I studied her. Who was this stranger? I could only think of one reason she wasn’t looking forward to picking up random men. “And don’t bail on Bas Saturday. At least give him the date you promised.”
She let her head fall back with a groan. “And then what?”
“What do you mean?” I was playing innocent. I knew exactly what she meant because the same question had been banging around in my head. What did the future hold? What did Evan want?
“What I mean is, he’s going to think I like him.” This was as close to honest as Chelsea usually got. She rarely shot totally straight, but she didn’t mean any harm. It was all layers of protection. Except as her best friend, I got the unvarnished Chelsea.
“God forbid.” I rolled my eyes. “Maybe youdolike him. Have you considered that?”
“That’s the problem.” She scrunched her face. “I do.”
She was a mess. “Well, he seems great. Thoughtful and funny and—”
“Fucking sexy as hell.”
Oh, she had it bad. I touched her hand. “You’re allowed to have nice things, Chels.”
She blinked, her eyes welling up. “So are you,” she said, predictably changing the subject when it got too real.
And now, I was getting choked up. “I know. Honestly, everything is so perfect right this second. I’m afraid it’s all about to come crashing down.”
She grimaced as a trio of college-aged kids entered, carrying a conversation in with them.
“It’s like you spoke it into existence. Call me later.”
With a salute, I exited the coffee shop and allowed myself to breathe deep. Was this what future potential felt like?
* * *
In the corner, a three-piece band played music I could barely hear over the chatty crowd. Chilly nights like this lured people inside to drink. And with the holiday approaching, everyone was in a festive mood, ready to unwind.
Kyan shot seltzer into a glass as I cracked open a beer. “Didn’t you just start a new job?”
“Didn’t work out.” I didn’t really want to talk about it. I slid the Corona to waiting frat boy and snatched up the crumpled dollar he left behind. I watched as he returned to his gang, trying to imagine what kinds of problems he had. Maybe an upcoming finance exam or a paper on Walt Whitman. Oh, to only have to worry about the pressures of school.
“Lucky for me,” Kyan said.
“Huh?” I’d learned to purposely mishear Kyan to avoid his flirtation. Thankfully, we were slammed.
A shorter woman waved a twenty at me impatiently, saying, “Finally,” when I leaned in to get her order.
Lucy, the other barkeep, made a space for me, and the three of us worked side by side for about an hour until we hit a lull.
Kyan began gathering up dirty glasses. “It was likeShaun of the Deadin here for a bit. If you weren’t here, we would’ve been overrun. I’d be a zombie now.”
I cut a couple of lemons to get ahead of the orders. “You would’ve broken out the Fireball and started lining up shots on the bar.”
“Exactly.”
Lucy said, “You should take a break now, Elizabeth. We can hold down the fort.”
That wasn’t as altruistic as it sounded since fewer bartenders meant more tips for her, but I wasn’t going to argue. I needed a minute away from the nonstop din of the bar. As exhausting as the newsroom had been, at least it hadn’t been this loud.
“I’ll be back in ten,” I promised, then edged through the crowd to the front door, breathing in the cool fresh air. Nature’s air conditioning. It felt amazing on my skin.
A group of women gathered outside the door, whooping and laughing, probably barhopping, ending up here because we were one of only two places still open at midnight on a Thursday.
I leaned against the side of the building, starting to shiver as I scrolled through my phone. Chelsea had texted a link to sign-up for a yoga class on Saturday morning—one of the remaining items on her list. That would be a great way to catch up with her since we’d let a couple of guys usurp our free time. I shot back a thumb’s up and was in the middle of a reply when I heard my name.
