I searched my memory for the last time Greg and I had seen Sarah. February of last year, she came to visit for a week, the first half while Greg was away. I didn’t remember anything specific, but she was probably right. We’d been “off” for a while before that.
“Is there room at the table for two more?” a baritone asked from behind me.
I turned to see one of the two men from the corner table. He was tall, maybe six-foot-two, with glossy black hair and a dark complexion. His lanky form reminded me of Drew, except he was clean-shaven with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.
He extended his hand. “I’m Will, and this is Owen.” He jerked a thumb at the second man, who hovered shyly behind him.
Owen was the same height as Will, with dark hair and dark eyes. Both men were dressed in jeans and black shirts, stylish in a way that Greg never was and Drew never tried to be. I thought of Greg’s khaki pants—pleated for God’s sake—and Drew’s raggedy jeans. They sat at our table and motioned for the bartender to bring another round. Very slick.
I felt stifled with nerves. Which was fine with Sarah, she was off and running. Within a half-hour, I knew both were single, where they worked, where they lived—they were locals—why they were at the bar—they just liked to hang out there. I gave very little about myself, but the darker one with the blue eyes—Will, was it?—inched his seat closer until his knee was resting on my thigh.
Is this what people do? The alcohol made me paranoid and jumpy, not the effect I’d hoped for. I studied Sarah, trying to pick up cues on how to be normal. She laughed, asked all the right questions, responded to the hard questions with coy answers, and flattered without being obvious. I watched her, amazed. Like a Russian ballet, every move was calculated, graceful, and perfectly executed. She had both men eating out of the palm of her hand. I hadn’t seen Sarah in her element in years. She’d had some practice. As the hours passed, and we all got drunk, she became more affectionate, mostly with Owen.
Will attempted conversation with me, and I could articulate most of the time, but nothing like Sarah. I didn’t have the training to compete with her. Every move I made somehow felt wrong, and I became incredibly self-conscious.
Not deterred, Will trailed his hand down my back and leaned over to whisper, “Do you want to get out of here?”
I didn’t know people really said that. I smiled nervously. “Look, Will, I do.” I put my hand on his arm, which felt warm and alive beneath my fingertips. I tingled with anticipation, such a newly fantastic feeling, but it all felt wrong at that moment. “Believe me, I do. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m going through something right now, and I… I can’t.” I heard Drew’s voice in my mind: We can’t. “Listen, are you guys going to be around tomorrow night?”
“We live only a few blocks away.”
“We should get together then.”
“Have you been to Float yet? It’s upstairs. That’s actually where we usually go after a few drinks here,” Will explained. “It’s on the roof of the hotel.”
We exchanged numbers, storing them in our phones.
“Call me tomorrow night, and we’ll meet up, okay?” He gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and a brilliant smile.
I got up to leave the table, tapping Sarah on the arm. I’m going up, I motioned with my hand. Are you going to be okay? I mouthed.
She waved me away, obviously annoyed at my mothering. Sarah went clubbing weekly in L.A. I waved at Will, who looked somewhat confused about which way to go. Sarah leaned close to Owen, and I had no idea if she was whispering to him or kissing him. I knew Will would be a definite third wheel. I felt like the worst wingman ever. But I needed my bed. When I got up to the room, I crashed facedown, still in my dress, and didn’t wake up until nine the next morning.
Sarah managed to wake up and shower before I rolled out of bed.
“What time did you get in?” I asked incredulously.
“Three-ish. Do you want to do the whale watch today?” She perched on the edge of the bed to watch the weather channel on mute.
“Um. I don’t know. Sure. Can I wake up first?” Yawning, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Sun streamed in through the windows. The crisp white sheets with lime-green coverlets and modern furniture, all lines and angles, gave the room a fresh, contemporary appeal.
“Oh, how was Owen?” I asked sleepily, trudging to the bathroom.
She gave me a Cheshire cat grin. “Exactly what I needed. He has a fabulous apartment.”
I stopped in my tracks. “You went to his apartment?”