Page 4 of The Write Place

“I didn’t say I don’t like them. I said they’re not my favorite. Honestly, though, you were doomed from the start. I don’t think I could pick only one. I have my favorites to study and my favorites to read for fun. I have books I’d sell my soul to read again for the first time, and books that feel new each time I reread them. I have my favorite book I love to hate, and my favorite book I hate to love.” I’m talking too quickly and I’m staring, unfocused, at the pavement, so I cut myself off. “The list goes on.”

“That is a very English major answer. You must have studied literature in school,” he ventures.

“I did.” I take a sip of my now-warm beer and grimace, putting it down. “Did you also study literature in school?” He shakes his head and I raise my eyebrows. I haven’t met a man as animated about literature as Evan since I was hanging out with English majors on a daily basis in college.

“I would have, had I gone to college.” I start to ask him for that story, but he cuts me off. “But that is more personal than I would like to get right now.”

“Ah. Fair enough.” I lift my beer again to take a drink, just for something to do, and then remember it’s warm and put it back on the ground. “Okay, so what do you read when you’re reading for fun?”

“Isn’t all reading fun?” He winks. I roll my eyes and kick his foot.

“You know what I mean. When it’s you and the book, away from the world.”

“‘Away from the world.’ I like that.” He sucks in a deep breath, considering. I hear the singer announce they’re taking a break, and then the noise quiets down inside. “I definitely tend to read more contemporary literary fiction than anything else. You know, award winners and all that. And you?”

“Romance,” I reply without hesitation.

His eyebrows raise and his eyes widen in surprise. He leans back on the curb. “Romance?”

“It’s fun and emotionally comforting to know more or less how the story is going to play out. I like knowing what to expect. But I will say that my standards for romantic partners are now impossibly high.”

I’m teasing, but his silver-blue eyes feel like they’re burning into me as he says, quietly, leaning in slightly, “Noted.”

Just as my stomach flips a little, the door to the alley from the bar bangs open loudly, and I jump slightly, twisting my upper body to face the sound. Jenny and the singer burst through the doorway, and in the light of the open door, I see their bodies pressed together and their hands and lips all over each other. I groan and whirl away, dragging a palm down my face.

“Get me out of here,” I whimper into my hands. Evan is trying not to laugh.

“I would happily take you away from here, but I promised not to take you off the premises.”

I don’t bother to respond, sinking further into myself and resisting the urge to look behind me into the alley. They’re making sloppy noises, and I gag, hunching my shoulders inward.

“How about we take a walk?” Evan suggests, clearly holding back laughter. I shoot to my feet.

“Sounds great. Let’s go!” I exclaim, moving swiftly away. I feel him following me, but I don’t slow down until we reach the sidewalk. He catches up to me easily, his hands in his pockets. He matches his stride to mine, and we walk for a while in silence. I fiddle with the slim, gold ring I wear on the pointer finger of my right hand. His hands jam further in his pockets, and he’s staring in front of him as if the sidewalk might disappear under his feet. I search my brain for something—anything—to say to make this less awkward.

“You don’t have to walk with me. I live pretty close by. I wouldn’t want you to be late. I mean, if you were meeting someone or something.” I give my brain a mental facepalm. That’s what you decided to say? I chastise myself. But he shakes his head.

“No, I wasn’t meeting anyone. I am…” He trails off, then takes in a breath as if he’s decided to say something. “I’m not from here. I’m traveling, I mean. I just got in town, and I was bored, so I went out and found the bar and decided to go in and see what there was to see.”

I huff. “Tony’s is the best bar in Leade Park. Maybe even in the entire Chicago suburbs. The Gem of the Midwest, really. It has won the Dive Award three years running now.”

He cracks a half-smile. “Must be the excellent band lineup they offer.”

I nod solemnly. “Yes, and the extensive selection of domestic beer.”

“The clientele’s not so bad, though.” He glances at me. I smile softly and bite my lip. I shift my gaze to the ground and put my own hands in my pockets.

“So, what brings you here?” I ask to change the subject. He gives me a wry smile.

“That would be a bit of personal information, wouldn’t it?”

I sigh in mock exasperation. “The reluctance to share personal information is a necessary precaution for a woman who finds herself alone at a bar with a charming stranger, not for said stranger who needs no protection from the woman whom he approached,” I clarify.

“A bit of a double standard, isn’t it?” He’s still smiling wryly. He winks at me, and my stomach flips again. This is clearly a game to him, and I decide I’m willing to play it. He’s traveling, and I’m not looking for anything serious. Maybe Jenny was right. Maybe I should just live a little.

I revise my question. “Okay, fine. Is it too personal to ask how long you’ll be in town?”

“If all goes well, about six weeks.” He’s trying not to smile because he clearly knows his cryptic answer only brings up more questions, and he knows keeping it impersonal means I can’t ask any of them. Is this some kind of business deal he’s working on? He clearly makes enough money to dress in some very expensive clothes, but he didn’t go to college so I have no idea what he could do for a living to bring in enough money to be wearing close to $800 worth of clothes to a dive bar.