Page 75 of Prime Time Romance

I know she means it as a passing comment, but her words hit me hard.

My girl.

Brynn was just my roommate for so long. Then somehow, in the mess of being here, we became friends. Tonight, that word doesn’t feel quite right anymore. But is she my girl?

I’m up and over the bar before I let myself answer that question.

The crowd parts enough for me to reach the stage. I hold my hand out to her.

“Come on, Brynn. It’s time to go home.”

She shakes her head. “I’m Sloan, remember? And Sloan wants to party.”

I hold it out again. “I’m about to flip you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. Is that what you want?”

She smiles and keeps dancing. “Kind of.”

I reach for her hand, but she’s surprisingly fast. “Gotta move quicker than that to keep up with me, Fletcher Scott.”

She twirls. And as she does, her foot slips, and she pitches sideways.

There’s a terrifying moment when I realize she’s about to fall. But my arms move automatically. Reaching out, they catch her before she hits the cement floor. When she’s steady and safe again in my arms, I brush back the hair from her eyes. Gone is the easy smile. What remains is shock and fear.

“You okay?” I press my lips to her ear so she can hear me above the music.

She lays her head against my chest. “I think I just need some air.”

I start to walk toward the front door.

“No.” Her arms tighten around my neck. “Can we go to our spot?”

—

“How are you feeling?”

Brynn is sitting on top of the air vent, eyes closed, legs outstretched, leaning back on her elbows with her fourth glass of water clutched in her hands. She opens her eyes as I step off the fire escape and onto the roof.

“Everything is still spinny when I close my eyes, but otherwise, I’m good.”

Sherry declared last call when I was up here the first time, getting Brynn settled. I went down to help her, but she shooed me back upstairs, claiming that she and Barry had it under control.

Then she told me that I could repay her by getting an early start on the cleanup in the morning.

Brynn holds up her water glass as if cheersing me, then tips it back for a long sip. “You are a most excellent bartender, Joshua Emilio Estevez Bishop. Has anyone ever told you that?”

I take a seat beside her. “Just my mom. But she’s one of those kind and encouraging types. I never know if she’s lying or loving me unconditionally.”

Brynn snort-laughs, but then schools her face into a more serious expression. “Do you think she’s worried about you? I keep wondering what’s happening back home. Like…is life just carrying on without us? The fact that the dates are the same here as they are at home makes me think yes, and in that case, do you believe anyone even notices we’re missing?”

They’re the same questions I’ve been asking myself all week. “My boss will have noticed for sure. But people quit and ghost on their shifts at the bar all the time, so I doubt he’s done anything about it aside from leaving me some angry voicemails. As for my mom…she actually called the night Sheldon showed up at our place, but it was late, so I never called her back. I’m kind of worried she thinks I’m avoiding her.”

Brynn’s nose crinkles. “Why would you be avoiding her?”

It’s hard to explain. “Her message was about my dad’s bar. It’s up for auction again. She wants me to buy it. Thinks it’s important for it to stay in our family.”

Brynn cocks her head to the side. “What do you think?”

I pause for a second, collecting my thoughts. “I agree it’s important…I just don’t know if I’m the right guy to…” I can’t even finish the sentence.