Page 30 of Wish You Were Mine
Not in the last few years, at least.
And as much as I wanted to play it cool, act unfazed when I saw her again, the truth was I was wired. I wanted to know if she’d felt it, too. If she’d been lying in bed last night thinking about it the way I had.
If there was a chance that kiss wasn’t the end of something…but the start.
Maybe we could talk before I left, sneak a walk on the beach or exchange numbers. Spring semester didn’t start for another week, and for once, I actually had some free time.
So yeah, I was hopeful for the first time in a long time—probably way more than I should’ve been.
Bash and I stepped farther into the entryway, stomping snow from our boots and brushing it off our jackets. Just as I was about to call out and say hi, I heard voices from the kitchen.
Lucy and Nora and another girl—one of Ky’s backup dancers?
“…and I saw you slumming it with the bartender in the hot tub last night,” the backup dancer said, a teasing edge to her voice. “Your dad would absolutely freak if he knew you were kissing a guy like that. Like, come on, Lucy. He’s cute, sure, but…he’s abartender.”
I stopped mid-step, my body freezing as the words landed.
“I mean,” the girl went on with a dramatic sigh, “that’s, like, something you do to get through college. Not a forever job. He’s, what—late twenties? That’s just someone on the road to nowhere.”
“You gonna correct them?” Bash’s hand clapped onto my shoulder, a little too much sympathy in his eyes. “Let ’em know thatthe bartenderhas a PhD in chemistry?”
“Nah.” I let out a low breath, staring down the hallway toward the kitchen. “If that’s what they want to believe, let them.”
I wasn’t ashamed of bartending—honestly, I liked it. It gaveme space to breathe, time to think, and more human interaction than any lab or lecture hall ever had. But standing here, hearing how inadequate I was in their eyes… Well, that stung.
“She’s just one girl,” Bash muttered, nudging me forward. “You can do better.”
“Sure…” I said, though if he’d asked me how this “just a girl” had made me feel about eight hours ago, I would have said that who knows…maybe she could have been the one.
Crazier things had happened.
At least it had only been one night. Two kisses.
Better to find out how inadequate I was in these girls’ minds now instead of weeks or months down the line.
Bash stepped into the kitchen first, and I followed right behind him. The second we crossed the threshold, all three girls turned toward us in unison.
And when they saw me, I knew the moment things clicked that their conversation had just been overheard because Nora’s eyes widened. The backup dancer’s face blanched. And Lucy, well—her cheeks were flushed pink, her hand flying up to her mouth.
“Oh my gosh,” Lucy said, her voice thick with panic. “I didn’t realize you were here. I’m so sorry you heard that.”
“Heard that I’m beneath you?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral, my expression smooth. “Yeah…it’s been noted.”
Her blue eyes widened more. “No— I mean—” She fumbled for words, her voice rushing now. “I don’t think that. I hope you know I don’t think any less of you for being a bartender. It’s honest work. And I’m sure you didn’t fall into it because you’re lazy or anything?—”
She winced as the words left her mouth, clearly realizing she’d just said about four more insulting things than her friend had.
I gave her a tight, practiced smile—doing my best not to letanything show. “It’s fine,” I said, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “Not everyone’s on the same path. And bartending…it’s a great way to meet people. I mean…” I looked right at Lucy, holding her gaze even though it felt like a slow twist in my gut. “That’s howwemet, right?”
“Right,” she whispered.
I thought about making a joke. Playing the laid-back guy behind the bar. But I was suddenly off my game.
Hearing myself dismissed so easily by people who didn’t really even know me just brought all my insecurities right back to the surface.
Sure, I was probably the most educated person in the room right now. But even with all my degrees and strong work ethic, they had somehow been able to sense that I was different.
Sure, I could be friends with famous singers who had huge beach houses. People whose problems were solved with phone calls and trust funds. I could go to their parties and play their games—sometimes even kiss the girl.
