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I take the opportunity to text her.
Weston
For fucks sake, how are you surviving this?
Carlee
I told you I have the worst luck.
Weston
Sluggers after this?
Carlee glances down at her phone and laughs, a sweet sound that pierces through the monotony of Trever’s dialogue. It’s the first time I’ve seen her chuckle since she sat down, and I take pride in knowing I sparked that glimmer of joy.
Visiting Sluggers is one of her bad dating rituals. Aftereveryfailed date, she goes inside and has a shot of tequila before heading home.
It’s also wherewemet.
Carlee was a faint glow in the darkness, my Firefly.
My phone buzzes with her reply.
Carlee
After movie night.
It’s confirmation that she’ll be at my brother’s. It makes me smile.
Weston
It’s a date.
Carlee
Do you want it to be?
“Do you?” I barely whisper, letting the question float between us.
I shift my arm just enough to brush against hers, my fingertip touching her skin. The world around us fades away again.
I pick up my bourbon, shooting the rest back in one swiftmotion. Two shots down. Stiffening the nerves feels necessary, but I think I need another.
The vintage light bulbs let out just enough light for me to catch the subtle uptick in her pulse. Something stirs between us, unspoken and undeniable, but I won’t admit it. Neither will she. We’re too stubborn.
“Are you okay?” Trever interrupts his own monologue, finally directing his attention toward Carlee.
She nervously chuckles. “I’m great.”
A lie.
Trever continues his droning, and she glances at her empty glass—a silent plea for an escape.
“Excuse me.” I catch the attention of the bartender with a wave. “I’d like to order the lady a drink. It’sdesperatelyneeded.”
Trever’s rambling stops, and his eyes bore into me, confusion and irritation flaring in his gaze. I ignore him because a lion doesn’t care if a dog barks. No one intimidates me.
“Miss?” The bartender turns to Carlee.