Page 90 of Someone to Have
TAYLOR
At the very least,I know what’snotgoing to happen. “Sure,” I murmur then want to kick myself. Why can’t I stop placating people? I hate my tendency to shrink myself to fit other people’s expectations. This is what I wanted—only it’s not anymore. While it’s partially due to my feelings for Eric, it’s also due to actually getting to know Bryan.
He’s been my crush since he moved to town, and I’ve made him into something in my mind that the man in reality just isn’t. The fantasy version of Bryan was sophisticated and charming and would make me feel like the only person in the room. This Bryan makes me feel small and unworthy.
At that moment, the waitress comes by our table. “Can I get you anything? Oh, hey, Taylor, good to see you.”
“Hi, Mel. Looks like you’ve got quite a crowd already.”
“Sure do, and your brother just walked in.”
My stomach drops. Of course Toby’s here. As if this date wasn’t already a shit show.
“One heavy snow,” she continues, “and people think that twenty-four hours of isolation is going to turn them into Jack fromThe Shining.”
“Hopefully, they’ve come out of mini-hibernation as good tippers,” I tell her with a smile. It’s easier to focus on Mel than the awkwardness radiating from our table. Melanie Wilson was a few years ahead of me in school, a senior when I was a freshman, prom queen, homecoming queen, student council president…she was elected to everything. She dated the captain of the lacrosse team, who also played hockey. She was so different from me—both a cheerleader and gymnast–and loved by everyone.
So when I got lost on my first day at the high school and she found me crying in a bathroom stall, I felt like an ogre being discovered by the beautiful princess. Mel dried my tears, helped me find my way, and I’m pretty sure she told her friends to have my back. Because for the rest of that year, everywhere I went, it felt like I had a popular girl guardian angel looking out for me. Even now, her presence settles me, especially in this moment when I’m questioning everything.
I know things haven’t been easy for her since high school. Rumors flew when Mel returned to town a couple of years ago with a baby on her hip, a black eye and split lip, but she always seems happy.
Bryan clears his throat, demanding attention. I feel irritation flicker inside me but that accommodating instinct kicks in.
“Do you know Bryan Connor?” I ask. “Bryan, this is Melanie Wilson, one of the best people I know in town.”
Melanie squeezes my shoulder. “Thanks, Tay.” Her touch reminds me that in order to be the best version of myself, I need to stop twisting myself in knots on a date with a guy I know isn’t right for me.
“Bryan teaches English at the high school,” I say simply.
“Advanced placement,” he clarifies like that makes a difference. The correction makes me cringe.
Mel tilts her head like she’s studying some kind of alien creature. I almost laugh at her expression. “AP was above my pay grade,” she tells him with a shrug.
“Margarita no salt?” she asks me.
My gaze drifts to the wine I don’t want to drink. “That would be great. Thanks, Mel. Do me a favor, and don’t tell Toby I’m here. Maybe he won’t spot me.” The last thing I need is my brother witnessing this train wreck, especially when Eric might be with him.
“Not a word.” She winks and walks away. Alone with Bryan again, I’m even more certain this evening can’t end soon enough.
“Is a margarita the smartest choice after wine?” Bryan’s tone is half amused and half condescending. “I’m happy to give you a ride to Myrna’s and take you home later.”
There’s that hint of a smile again. Creepy AF, if I’m being honest. Bryan was way better as an unrequited crush.
Once again, I push the wine across the table. “Actually, red wine gives me a headache, so it’s all yours. The offer goes both ways. I’m happy to drive if you need me to, and drop you home after the cast potluck.”
He doesn’t look annoyed or angry, just confused. A cute, moppy-haired man who is legitimately baffled that his attempts at charm aren’t hitting the mark. The young Hugh Grant thing works for him, but not with me any longer.
“Do you think you’ll continue directing at the community theatre?” I ask to be polite. It’s not like I blame him for assuming I’m a sure thing. I didn’t do a great job of hiding my interest all these months.
He leans forward and reaches for my hand, which is sitting on the table, but I pull back.
“If I say yes, does that mean you’ll try out for the next one?”
“I’m probably one and done,” I say as Melanie returns to the table.
“Here’s the margarita,” she says, setting down a basket of cheese curds with the drink. “These are on the house because your brother?—”
“Tinky Wink!” Toby bellows across the crowded bar.
