Page 5 of Secrets in Love
“Not my girl!” I inserted.
“Whatever you say. Just know that I love her stories and was probably one of the first to hear them. She used to make some up for me when we had sleepovers.” Embarrassed over my defensiveness, I took a long, steady sip from my beer and ignored the intense eye-frowning I was no doubt receiving. “So…she messaged you while she was in bed?”
“Well, she wasn’tinbed, I don’t think. More sitting on the bed while writing.”Am I blushing? Since when do I blush?
“Huh. Is that what you’ve been staring at all night? Her messages? What did you talk about? Lemme see.” Polly launched herself across the bar and snatched my phone.
“Hey, give that back!”
Her laughter was immediate and brutal.
“Oh my God, Nate. This is worse than I thought. ‘G’day, Lil Gidget? Nate the Great… Just checking in on my number-one girl?’ Holy shit!” Brutal was the wrong word. It was frightfully acidic, and I felt its lethal sting in every pore in my body. “Have you ever told her?”
“Have I ever told her what? What a complete pain in the ass you are? ‘Cause I am pretty sure she knows that.”
“No, not that. Have you ever told our Evie how you feel about her?”
“And what exactly is it that I feel, Polly? I’ll tell you what, nothing. I don’t feel anything. I don’t have any damn feelings at all. I’m a slut, remember? Hence why you were just making jokes about my cock falling off.”
Sidestepping the empty keg of beer another bartender had just wheeled beside her and carrying a bottle and two shot glasses, Polly sauntered to my side and laid her pointy chin on my shoulder. Her hair felt as soft as it looked brushing over my cheek, and I accidentally inhaled deeply. Mmm, apple pie. The extent to which I enjoyed it was disturbing.
“Nate. I’m sorry, but it’s obvious. You are one of the happiest guys I know, and you’ve been moping around town for weeks—coincidentally, the same amount of time Evie Austen has been gone.”
“You, PollyWaffle, are a fucking idiot, and I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Possibly sensing she’d gone too far, Polly slapped my phone on the bar and poured me two fingers of whiskey, leaving her own glass empty. “No one’s called me PollyWaffle in years. I’m surprised you remember that.”
“I can remember lots of things. I’m clever like that.”
“You should be clever enough to put a password on your phone, then. Anyone could discover your secrets.”
Deciding I’d had quite enough of Polly, her sexy-smelling hair, and her wisdom, I kept my eyes down, sipping and watching the liquid amber swirling in my glass with unnecessary intensity. It was a good drop, smelled rich and peaty, and its tart, citric bitterness against my tongue helped me ignore a different kind of burn…unwanted attraction.
A persistent tap, tap, tap on my shoulder tore me from a peaceful, Evie-filled dream. I was face down on the bar. The stench of wet, beer-stained carpet filled my nostrils, a half dozen peanuts were attached to my forehead, and Polly’s cleavage was right in my face.
“Time to go home, Sunshine. It’s two a.m. We’re closing, and you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk. I was drunk two hours ago. Now I’m just…nothing.”
“Well, drunk or nothing, we are closed, and you need to leave.”
“Yes, ma’am, Polly, ma’am.” I gave her a sharp salute, wobbled to my feet, and took out my keys.
“Whoa, Nate, you’re not thinking of driving, are you?”
“Yes. I am. I told you I’m not drunk.”
Polly shook her head and lunged unsuccessfully at my keys. “Well, I have been serving the alcohol wafting out of your pores, and I am telling you that you are most definitely drunk and are not driving home. Let me call you a cab.” Again, she lunged but this time snatched my phone and began dialing.
“What is it with you and my phone, Waffles? Sorry to tell ya, but I have no cash left for a cab, and I left my card at home. Besides, I said I am F.I.E.N.” I then proved how fine I was by attempting to snatch my phone from her hand and missing it by about a foot.
“You are not driving, Nate. If for no other reason than letting you leave like this would risk our liquor license. I will take you home, but you have to go take a piss first—and ideally vomit if you think you’ll have to. I just got the smell of Kapil Raj’s puke out of my backseat last weekend.” She grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me toward the restrooms. “Meet me out the back when you’re done.”
Since I saw three Pollys yelling at me, I decided I was maybe too far gone to drive. So, I did as I was told. I staggered off to the toilets, managing to piss and puke as requested, then weaved my way through the bar, bistro, and kitchen before pushing through the fire exits and hitting the still, cool night air with alarms blazing.
“Miss Polly had a dolly. Where are you?” I called at the top of my lungs, wholly amused with myself.
“Right behind you, tool. Get in the car…and DO NOT PUKE.” Again, I did as she ordered, climbing in the front seat, and putting on my seatbelt like a good little boy.
