Page 6 of Clumsy in Love

Holly craned her neck to look up at the skyscrapers as she walked. She didn’t care that she looked like a tourist. She was one, why not own it? In Times Square, human-sized stuffed animals roamed the sidewalks. One shoved a flyer for a sightseeing tour bus into her face. It seemed like an efficient way to see the city, so she bought a ticket for the next day.

Not wanting to waste precious time in a restaurant, she ate whenever she passed a street vendor. First a pretzel, then a gyro, then ice cream. She poked around a few shops then started for the Empire State Building.

The line and ride to the observation deck took forever, and it was dusk by the time she got off the elevator. She snapped some selfies and pictures of the skyline, crossed the item off her to-see list, and headed back to the street.

GPS said the hotel was close, so she walked. After a quick shower, she dressed to go out—a loose-fitting flowery blouse, skinny jeans, and sandals with two-inch heels. Normally, she only wore flats—Rick didn’t like being shorter than her—but she was on her own tonight and could do whatever she wanted.

New York at night seemed daunting and a little scary, but if she stayed in public areas, she figured she’d be okay. In the lobby, Winston was still on duty. When she asked where she could find a fun bar, he laughed.

“There’s a place to drink on just about every block in the city,” he said. He looked her up and down, narrowed his eyes, and apparently summed her up. “You should try the Sip and Swirl. It’s a few blocks that way and would be a good fit for you.”

“Can I walk?”

“You alone?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Hm. Well, maybe walk there. But think about grabbing a cab back. Streets are pretty safe, but no sense tempting fate.”

“Thanks,” she said, heading off in the indicated direction. Night had fallen, but the well-lit streets were still packed with people. Used to hiking boots or tennis shoes, the two-inch sandals gave her no support, and she wobbled a bit before adjusting to them.

Ten minutes later, she arrived at the Sip and Swirl and pushed open the doors. Music blared, and twenty-somethings lined a long wooden bar. It seemed as though everyone was with someone, which was intimidating. But no one paid her any attention, so she sidled up to the bar and waved to get a bartender’s attention.

He threw down a cocktail napkin. “What’ll ya have?”

“Cranberry Cosmo, please.”

“Fifteen dollars.”

She coughed. New York was expensive. Everyone knew that. Butfifteen dollarsfor a drink? Coolly, she handed over her credit card, feigning indifference and pretending like she drank alone all the time.

“My friend will be here soon,” she said. A white lie, but hopefully one that made her look a tad less pathetic.

He nodded and left, returning a minute later with her drink.

Someone knocked into her from behind, causing her to dribble the very first sip. “Damn it,” she muttered.

“You just got here,” the bartender said. He dipped a napkin in club soda and handed it to her. “Do I need to cut you off already?”

“No,” she said, dabbing at the spill. “About seventy percent of anything I eat or drink tends to end up on my shirt. I’m twenty-five years old but still haven’t learned to feed myself properly.”

He smiled. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” She glanced left and right, assuming everyone was watching and judging.

“One good thing about New York,” he said, holding up a finger. “Everyone minds their business, and nothing surprises anyone.”

She held up the drink as if toasting. “Thanks.” A quick nod and he moved on to help the next customer.

Barstools seemed to be rare real estate, so she stayed glued to hers. Plus, with so many patrons coming and going from the bar, she could get lost in the crowd and not stand out as “alone.”

Thirty minutes and two Cosmos later, she’d been hit on twice. And while that was a flattering boost to her bruised ego—being left at the altar will do that—she wasn’t looking for a fling.

When she found herself entertaining the idea after a third man approached, she realized she’d skipped dinner, and the alcohol was gripping her tight. Time to call it a night. She turned on her stool and swayed.

“You okay?” the man next to her asked. “Want some help getting home?”

She was tipsy but not so far gone she would consider leaving with a stranger. Despite growing up in a small town and being somewhat naïve, she wasn’t an idiot. “No, thank you.”

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