I loved when they played, their songs leaving me feeling bittersweet, a sense of nostalgia locked deep in the center of my chest. It was both beautiful and upbeat, and brought people out in droves on the one night a month they played here.
I made my way back up to where Charlie, Tamar, and our weekend guy, Nathan, worked frantically to keep up with the six waitresses working the floor, plus the slew of people taking up the actual bar. There wasn’t a single stool vacant.
I flashed a harried smile at Tamar and slid her the napkin where I’d jotted down my orders. “It’s crazy out there.”
She grinned, not missing a beat as she filled three chilled mugs from the tap, shaking up a cocktail in her left hand before she poured it over ice. “I love it when it’s like this…the energy’s so thick you can taste it. And when the band strikes up? It’s going to get wild.”
Playfully, I rolled my eyes. “I swear, you should be the one up there, the way you get all starry-eyed every time a band takes the stage.”
“Why do you think I work here? Love the vibe.” She shot me a wink. “But I can’t sing to save my life. Believe me, we’re all much safer with me slinging the drinks than trying to entertain.” She set a drink in front of me and waved her hand dramatically around her. “I’ve met my calling.”
“Thank God for that, because I’m not sure what we’d do without you.”
“Hey now,” Charlie cut in, knocking her in the shoulder with his as he moved around her and passing a couple beers to another server while looking at me. “What did I tell you about filling up this one’s head any more?”
She swatted at him. “Oh, you hush, old man.”
“You better watch yourself, Charlie,” I warned, arranging drinks on my tray. “One of these days she’s going to have enough of you and take off. Then what are you going to do?”
He slapped his hand across his chest. “And break my heart, like that? Tamar wouldn’t dream of it.”
She bumped him with her hip. “Keep it up, and you’ll find out.”
I began to tray the rest of my drinks, when the front door swung open for what had to be the millionth time that night. But this time, I took note. Because there was nothing else I could do. I couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder that slipped down my spine in that moment when I felt compelled to glance to the right. He stood just inside the door, and his gorgeous face was caught up in a halo of light from the swinging lamp hanging from the rafters, all hard planes and shadows and mystery.
His presence sucked the air from the room and filled it with all his strange intensity, an overwhelming sense that I was shackled to him somehow, every rational part of me knowing I should stay away from him, yet all those silly, absurd, tingly places thrilling whenever he came near.
Something like butterflies scattered in my stomach, a jumble of frantic wings that fluttered hard and fast, taking flight in my veins. Soaring high. Dipping low.
Chemistry.
Is that what this was called?
I hated and loved it all at the same time. The rush of nerves he coaxed from me, the feeling he had control of my emotions, and there wasn’t one single thing I could do about it.
Two days had passed since the last time he’d been here. Tonight, his absence had begun to wear on me, and each time the door swung open and it wasn’t him, I was hit with a jolt of panic, struck with the fact I might never seeing him again. He didn’t live here. That much was clear. Chances were, one day he’d just be gone.
As much as I knew it was dangerous thinking, I couldn’t help the dread it caused. I’d begun to cling to these nights that had become something special. Something secluded and secret and forbidden that transpired at the very corner booth of this bar.
Something that only belonged to us when we were really nothing at all.
But there he was, staring at me. Usually he headed straight to his booth without acknowledging me, but he just stood there watching me, fully aware I was watching him.
Three guys stepped in behind him. A super tall guy with a shock of ebony hair said something to him. He nodded and said something back.
What the hell?
Funny how I’d come to think of him as his own entity.
A ship in the night that only I could see.
Alone.
Lonely, even. Just like me.
This only served to remind me how little I really knew about him.
“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Tamar muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. Her attention was trained on Baz and his friends who were gathered at the door, eyes scanning for a place to sit in the chaos abounding in the massive room.
“What?” I asked, almost having to shout.