Page 69 of This Kind of Forever
I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll go find the guys.”
My two friends take off, heading toward the back of the building. I turn away from the bar and crane my neck, trying to see which table Gabe and Luke ended up at. They were supposed to be saving us seats, except we got sidetracked when Clara and Delilah decided to do shots.
Before I get very far in my search, a body slides into my line of vision, blocking me in. The man is somewhat attractive. He’s slightly taller than me, and he has hair that’s blond and shaggy. His smile is nice, if not a little conceited.
I stand there awkwardly as I wait for him to move.
“What are you drinking?” he asks.
It takes me a moment to register that he’s speaking to me. “Sorry, what?”
He gestures to my empty glass. “I asked what you were drinking. I’ll get your next one.”
Oh.Oh. Is this flirting?
I feel self-conscious telling him it was just water; that I don’t really drink. “Oh, um, that’s okay,” I say with a tentative smile.
He leans on the bar, pressing into my space. The perusal his eyes make of my body sets my cheeks on fire. “C’mon, let me buy you a drink.”
I shake my head. “It’s really okay. I’m just trying to find my friends. You don’t?—”
“I insist. It’s not every night I get to talk with a beautiful woman like you.”
His eyes seem to bore straight into me, and the pressure mounts. I’ve always had a hard time saying no, especially in environments I’m not familiar with. If Clara and Delilah weren’t in the bathroom, they’d be all over this, telling the guy to get lost. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t quite make myself say them.
“I, um, guess I’ll take a strawberry daiquiri.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thank you.”
Inwardly, I cringe. I don’t particularly want the daiquiri, but I can just nurse it for the rest of the night. Or pawn it off on the girls. Clara is always experimenting with drinks at Dockside, so her tastes are vast.
The man flags the bartender down and orders our drinks. Then he turns back to me and flashes a shameless grin. “I’m Deacon.”
“Hallie,” I reply. I fidget with the zipper on my purse, feeling out of place.
Why didn’t you say no? You should’ve said no.You’re such a chicken.
Deacon studies me. “I haven’t seen you around here before. You visiting?”
I shake my head. “I’m from Kip Island.”
The bartender slides my drink toward me. I swirl the straw around my glass, prolonging having to take a sip.
Deacon lifts his glass of whiskey to his lips. Then he arches a brow when he notices I haven’t touched mine. “Is there a problem? Is it your drink?”
I open my mouth, ready to assure him that no, everything is fine and my drink is perfect. But someone else beats me to it.
“Yes,” Gabe says. There’s a hard edge to his voice that doesn’t match his usual disposition. “There’s definitely a problem.”
I shoot him a look that says,Don’t be rude. But he doesn’t even see it because he’s glaring at Deacon.
Deacon glances between me and Gabe, and then he holds his hands up in surrender. “My bad, bud.” He plucks his whiskey off the bar and takes a step back. “I didn’t realize she was taken.” He turns and walks away.
My cheeks blaze. I’m certain I can feel the bartender’s eyes on us, drinking in the drama. They most definitely see their fair share, night after night.
I fold my arms across my chest and look up at Gabe. “What did you do that for?”
“What?” he asks. “Get rid of a pest? He was bothering you.”
Annoyance swirls, but I’m not entirely sure why. “How do you know I wasn’t enjoying myself?”
