Page 29 of Reach Around

She eyes me, lips twitching. “If it’s about that kiss, you should probably take a cold shower, not talk to your mother.”

“Very funny,” I mutter, heat crawling up my neck. “It’s not that. Well… it’s not just that.”

She softens, more Mom than boss. “Spit it out, Brogan. You never had trouble talking before.”

I open my mouth—no words. Nothing feels safe or easy now. Not with my whole world tilting in Joely’s direction.

I look up, and there she is, laughing at the other end of the bar, the chaos swirling around her. All I know is, I want to be the reason she smiles like that every damn night. And I’m not sure what to think about that.

“Yeah,” I admit, raking a hand through my hair like that’ll help. “I need a date for the Slammer’s holiday party. Something… uncomplicated.”

I tell myself it’s just about the party, but the truth is, I just want an excuse to be near Joely again. Like that’s ever been uncomplicated.

Mom snorts, her laugh sharp as she slaps a rag down on the bar. “Uncomplicated? In Sorrowville? Good luck. You might as well ask for a unicorn burger.”

I grumble, glancing past her to where Joely’s cracking up with Virgil at the other end. “What about Joely?”

Mom follows my gaze, her mouth twitching like she’s trying not to grin. “Joely, huh? What happened? You finally deleted your puck bunny contacts? What about Lucinda?”

I groan. “Seriously? You know about that?”

She waves me off. “Boone’s got a bigger mouth than the Mississippi, kid. But you—asking Joely? You sure about that, Brogan? She’s family around here. You want weird, ‘cause that’s how you get weird.”

I swallow, the ghost of that kiss burning a hole in my memory. “Yeah, about that…” I mumble, not trusting myself to say more.

Mom leans in, her voice dropping low, sly as ever. “You playing it safe, or is there something real happening with you two?”

I flick another look at Joely, just in time to see her tuck a wild strand of dark hair behind her ear and shoot me a smile that hits like a sucker punch. “I don’t know, Mom. It’s… complicated.”

I can’t help it—I get stuck, just looking at her. The way the overhead lights turn her hair almost copper at the ends, wild waves tumbling over the thick, rust-colored sweater she always swears is her “armor.” Her skin is all sun-kissed and freckled, a million tiny constellations scattered across her nose and cheeks, and her eyes—big, brown, steady—have this way of cutting through the noise in my head.

Even behind the bar, surrounded by bottles and chatter and old neon, Joely’s the one who feels like home. She’s got that lookright now—half challenge, half soft, like she knows every secret I’ve never said out loud and loves me anyway.

My mom rolls her eyes, back to boss mode. “You need a plus-one for the party, bar’s closed, and Joely’s the safest bet you’ll get that doesn’t end in an Instagram scandal. Go for your slightly complicated version of uncomplicated. But make sure she knows it’s just friends if that’s what you’re telling me. This town doesn’t need more drama. And neither do I.”

With a resigned sigh, I push off from the bar and head towards the back where Joely’s checking inventory, her back to me as she counts bottles.

“Hey, Joely,” I call out softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turns, a surprised look crossing her features. “Brogan. Did you need something?”

Here goes nothing. “You. Uh—sorry, not like—you. I mean, I need a date. Not like a date date. Just, you know… for the Slammer’s party. Since Mom’s closing up, and you’d be free…”

Joely’s expression shifts, a hint of something unreadable passing through her eyes. “I am free,” she says slowly. “Are you asking me to go with you?”

“Yeah, as friends. Just to be clear,” I add hastily.

“Sure,” she replies, though her voice is tinged with something I can’t quite place. Relief? Disappointment?

I try to read her expression, but she’s turned back to her inventory. “Thanks, JoJo. I appreciate it.”

She nods, her focus still on the bottles in front of her. “So it’s not like a real date or anything.”

“Right,” I agree, feeling an odd twinge in my gut. This is what I wanted, right? Just friends. But even as I say it, the words catch, leaving me with this weird ache—like maybe ‘just friends’ was never enough, even if I’m only just starting to admit it.

As I turn to leave, Joely calls out, her voice softer, “Brogan?”

I pause, looking back.

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