Page 2 of Back To You

I step closer to the bar, repeating myself a little louder. “I need a job, and I go by Annie now.”

“No,” is all he says, and I don’t know how I forgot Emmett’s famous one-word answers.

Silly me to think he would be anything other than a man of few words since I last saw him.

He uncrosses his arm to reach down under the bar in front of him, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice. He grabs the soda gun, no doubt to pour me a Sprite like he always used to, the first time being when he was learning to use it.

Vivian,as Emmett knew her, or the old Annie would have said “okay” and let it go—turned around and walked out of here with her tail tucked between her legs.

But I haven’t seen her since leaving Grant’s party last night.

Emmett grabs the towel slung over his shoulder to wipe down the bar with one hand, grabbing a cardboard coaster and throwing it onto the bar before setting down the glass of soda with the other, his way of inviting me to sit.

I exhale, frustration bubbling up to the surface, but I push it back down. I can’t walk out of here with nothing.

I need a job.

I need to pay for classes and an apartment.

I need to get out of that damn trailer.

Sitting down in the high-top chair in front of Emmett, I meet his eyes again. “I graduated in June, and I turn 19 next month. I need a job.”

Before Emmett can respond, a voice chimes in. “That ain’t the way to ask for a job, darlin’.”

I turn to see the guy I noticed when I walked in, an older man with a beer in his hand. He’s alone, seated a couple of chairs down from me, and his eyes are glued to the TV screen hung up behind the bar.

The man laughs to himself, not seeming to give a shit that no one invited him into this conversation.

My skin prickles as he turns to look at me, dragging his gaze down and back up. “I mean, you can’t even crack a smile?” he adds, and I feel a switch flip on in my brain.

It’s like every bitchy comment and backhanded compliment I heard all throughout high school was echoing over and over again in my head. Every smug smile of those girls, their shrill giggles and laughter all atmy expense. The sound of their whispers as they walked away, each one making me wish I could disappear from this world a little more.

They looked at me as their friend up until something shifted when we got into high school, and I became their prey.

My head is spinning as I remember the looks of accomplishment on their faces last night when the tears streamed down my face as they showed me the video of Luke kissing another girl.

A girl who was supposed to be my friend.

My vision goes red. “And you can’t even mind your fucking business?”

The words leave my lips before I can stop them, and it’s like a dam finally breaking. All the frustration, the anger, and the betrayal from last night—the past fouryears, my wholelife—comes rushing out, and there’s no stopping it.

“Do either of us look even remotely interested in what you have to say?” I add, gesturing between me and Emmett, who is looking at me like I just grew a second head.

I don’t give the man time to respond as I slam my hand down on the bar. “The last thing I need from anyone right now-–let alone some stranger at a bar—is their opinion on what they thinkIshould be doing.”

I turn back to Emmett while I still have the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “And you,” I say, pointing to him, “don’t you dare try this overprotective, misogynistic bullshit I know you’re about to spout!” My voice keeps growing in volume, but I don’t care. The words are coming out before I can even think about them. “I don’t need you saying how you’ll have to look out for me or that I can’t handle a fuckingbarbymyself—especially one I basically grew up in. You are going to apologize for wasting all this time and energy, and you are going to give me this damn job.”

The slap of a hand on the bar snaps me back to reality. I see the man, having left a couple bills on the bar, turning to leave, huffing something under his breath.

The warm August air rushes in as the front door of the bar closes behind him, further bringing me back to what just happened.

My ears heat, and I have the urge to apologize as I turn back around in my chair. The bar is silent aside from whispers of music playing, and I want to crawl back into myself as the aftermath of my embarrassing outburst settles in the air around us.

When I look up, Emmett is staring at me, and I can’t help but notice the small smirk on his lips. He’s looking at me with something I don’t recognize, but it makes pride bloom in my belly. Our eyes meet, and a shared understanding passes through us.

Maybe he’s seeing all my confusion, or the words I don’t know how to say. Or, maybe it’s a look of knowing, like he knew that something like this—speaking up for myself—was a long time coming.

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