We took first place in trivia. The prize was two Malone’s T-shirts.
Afterward, we sat in a dim cracked-leather booth at the back of the bar, nursing our beers with a basket of hot wings and Malone’s famous queso. A live band played “Wonderwall” on the beat-up stage. Malone’s was a dive. There’d already been two bar fights since we got here. It was good entertainment—better than the band.
I’d gotten twenty dollars’ worth of fake tattoos from a vending machine, and we were giving each other full sleeves and laughing at people in the bar.
“Okay,” Josh said, pressing a wet napkin to my forearm to stick a tattoo. “If you could turn anything into an Olympic sport, what would you win a medal for?”
I lifted the napkin and peeled off the plastic backing, looking at my new rose tattoo. “Sarcasm.”
He laughed, his brown eyes creasing at the corners.
“All right, my turn,” I said, laying an anchor tattoo on Josh’s impressive biceps. “Window seat or aisle?”
He watched me slap on the wet napkin. “Middle seat. That way I’m next to you no matter which one you want.”
Gah. This man. So selfless.
He’d said it so casually it was like thinking about me first came naturally. Like it was knee-jerk for him. My lips twisted into a smile, and we gazed at each other for a moment.
He was having a good time. He was happy. I wondered if he was this happy when we weren’t together. If he had this much fun with his friends, or the crew at work.
Or any of the dates he went on.
I didn’t. Not even with Sloan. It was different with Josh. It just was.
How many good days like this did we have left? In a few weeks, I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore. I’d be recovering from my surgery, and he would be long gone. The wedding wouldn’t throw us together. I already gave Miguel his job back. Creepy or not, I needed to replace Josh. Miguel knew the work and had his own garage to build out of so I’d never have to see him.
Everything was already taken care of. Everything except how I’d feel when this all ended.
And there was nothing to do about that.
“I need to send Sloan a picture of this,” I said, shaking myself out of my thoughts. I angled the camera to get my whole arm. Then I sat back in the booth and started texting. “I keep getting autocorrected from ‘queso’ to ‘quest.’” I shook my head. “Trust me, phone, I’m never going to talk about a quest. It’s queso. Always queso.”
Josh snorted. Then he nudged me, nodding to a girl in a skirt way too short for her, teetering in heels on her way back from the bathroom.
I laughed. “Look at the guy she’s with. He’s resource guarding. Growling over her like a dog with a bone. He’s eyeing every man that comes within ten feet of her.”
Josh chuckled. “Want me to test your theory? Pretend like I’m gonna try and talk to her?” His eyes twinkled.
“Oh my God, yes. Please.”
He set his beer down and slid from the booth, and I watched, grinning, as he made his way over to the bar, shooting me a wolfish look over his shoulder. When he got close, Dog Bone Guy puffed his chest and wrapped an arm across his girl’s boobs. Josh veered left, laughing.
I put a hand over my smile. His boyish charm always got me. He was adorable.
He made his way back to our table and scooted in next to me, putting an arm around me. “You were right.”
“That was fucking hilarious.” I giggled, leaning into him.
His eyes gleamed and he drew his lower lip between his teeth, looking down at my smiling mouth. And like it was no big deal, like there weren’t any rules, as if we were a couple just out on a date, having a good time, he leaned in and kissed me.
And I let him.
Josh
he kissed me back. She didn’t push me away and get pissed, she didn’t object. She didn’t remind me that we’re just fuck buddies or tell me this wasn’t a date.
She kissed me back.
I hadn’t brought up the Vegas call—I didn’t have to. She was so different with me today it finally felt like we’d turned a corner. Maybe she’d missed me all those weeks or it was me telling her I loved her that night on the phone. Maybe she was over Tyler. I couldn’t be sure what finally opened her up to me. All I knew was it was a gift.
Her fingers clutched the front of my shirt, and I pulled her in, pressing her into my chest, loving the taste of hops on her tongue, inhaling her perfume.
The kiss was slow and full of emotion. And it was the first time we’d kissed when it wasn’t about sex.
I cherished this small gesture, this tiny public display that I had any claim to her. This stolen contact that didn’t adhere to any of her rules.
When we broke apart, her sideways smile was light and unguarded. She draped her arms around my neck. “You’re my favorite monkey to throw poo with, you know that?”
I stared into her eyes. “Then why aren’t we together, Kristen?”
And then like that, she was gone.
Her expression fell like a heavy curtain dropping.
I lost her.
She sat up straight and moved away from me. “It’s time to go,” she said flatly, looking around for her purse.
Disappointment cut into me, razor sharp and violent. My hope, yanked out from under me.
No. Not today. Not again.
I flexed my jaw. “Kristen, answer me. Why aren’t we together?”
When she looked up, her face was cold. “I told you from the very beginning that this was just going to be sex. I never led you to believe that it was anything different, Josh.”
I shook my head at her. “It is something different and you fucking know it.”
She turned and slid out of the booth on the opposite side.
“Where are you going?”
“To get another drink,” she said without looking at me. “A strong one. Feel free to leave. I’ll Uber home alone.”
“Kristen!”
She ignored me and walked to the bar. I raked a frustrated hand through my hair.
I can’t do this anymore.
And I had to at the same time. I couldn’t not take what little scraps she threw at me, but how could I keep living like this?
Weeks of this roller-coaster ride, of glimpses of…something. I chased it, ran after this elusive rainbow of a woman, never really catching up with her.
Why did she keep doing this?
She leaned on the bar and I sat, trying to calm myself down a little before I went after her. I stared moodily at the business cards lacquered into the top of the table. I was glancing up from this when he approached her. Some fucking guy.
He put his hand on her…
I launched out of the booth in an instant.
Kirsten
had to get up, had to be somewhere where he wouldn’t see the pain in my eyes. My mask could only hold up so long.
My boundaries had been wavering all day. I’d gotten sloppy—I’d gotten stupid. I’d just missed him too much, and with so little time left I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to show him how he made me want to be with him. Just today.
Just once.
And now I’d fucked everything up. I never should have started up with him. It was selfish and idiotic to think I could pull this off. And I shouldn’t have gone over there today. I should have ended things after karaoke—I knew better. I knew he was having feelings.
“A shot of Patrón.” I leaned on the worn wooden bar, imagining Josh’s eyes on my back.
This was it. The last day. It was all over now. No more.
A lump bolted to my throat.
Well, it was a good day. It was. At least there was that. It came sooner than I’d hoped, but here we were.
A warm body edged up to me as I wiped a tear from my cheek and I turned, expecting Josh. But it was one of the frat guys from the table next to us at trivia.