Page 3 of Soft Rebound

“Moon Man.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a local beer. What are you drinking now?”

“Coors Light.”

“Well, Moon Man is gonna be more hoppy than that. More bitter. But I think you’ll like it.”

I drink down everything from my glass and feel ready for the challenge. “Okay, hit me. Just half a glass, please.”

“As you wish, milady.” He pours with a one-sided smirk.

I take a small exploratory sip, and he’s right. It’s more bitter than what I usually drink, but I enjoy the taste.

“It’s good,” I say. “I like it.”

He beams, and it’s like the sun has sat next to me.

“So what’s your name?” he asks.

“Melanie.”

I ... lied.

Why did I lie?

Melanie is not my name. It’s the name of my cousin Chloe’s friend, the woman from whom I’m subletting an apartment. The sublet has been a godsend, because I left my life in Minnesota in a hurry and I’m currently hiding, and it works for Melanie too, because she had to leave her place thanks to a caretaking emergency.

I guess I kind of live her life now? I kind of am her?

“Melanie,” he says like he’s trying it out on his lips. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thank you.” It feels weird and more than a little disingenuous to accept a compliment on behalf of a woman I barely know. “And what’s your name?”

He looks at me in confusion. “Joe. I believe I mentioned it when I came over... Did I?”

“I might have been processing several different inputs when you showed up,” I say. “The pitcher. The chair.” I wave in his general direction. “All this.”

“All this?”

“You know. All. This,” I say as my fingers fly, pointing to his face and chest. “It was a lot to take in.”

He frowns, and I realize he might be self-conscious. “Good a lot or bad a lot?” he asks.

“Good a lot. I thought you looked like a god,” I blurt out, deciding to pretend I only said it to make him feel better.

His eyes widen and there, there’s that panty-dropper grin again. Absolutely devastating.

“Are you sure you didn’t put something in this beer?” I ask and take another sip. “Maybe the truth serum?”

“You’re a delight, Melanie,” he says, his lips still curled up at the corners. “And I thought so way before you said I looked like a god.”

“Way before? You mean in the ancient history spanning the one minute of our acquaintance that preceded my ill-advised bit of flattery?”

“Before that. I noticed you when you walked in. Have been watching you ever since.”

Alarms go off in my head and my back stiffens.

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