Page 4 of Mark Us Little Bear
I exhale with a chuckle. “Likealmostrunning over someone.“ I toy.
“Likealmostcutting the air supply but pressing the brakes just in time.“ She retorts with a smirk. “Get over it. You’re here, alive and well, grinding against youralmostkiller.”
A burst of laughter breaks out of me.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room, see you later.” She is about to turn when I stall her by clinging onto her wrist.
I inch closer, “Can I have your phone first?”
“Why?”
I deliver my words slowly, “So, I can give you my number and when you’re ready you can tell me?”
“Tell you what?” she steps back to look at me.
“About the sadness in your eyes that look like mine.” It’s honest. My lips curl up softly into a half smile.
She remains quiet but slides her phone into my palm. As I type the digits on the screen my roommate’s rugged look catches my attention when he passes the entrance but doesn’t walk inside, probably heading for a smoke.
Slightly exhausted Amber and I part ways. I stretch my ringed fingers, grab a water bottle from the table, and lower myself onto the C-shaped burgundy couch in the VIP section, needing to catch my breath.
It’s crazy to think my life started in this building as a twenty-year-old. I witnessed its transformation from an abandoned building to one of the main attractions around here—Luka made sure of it with his striking vision.
Eight years flew by like a hurricane and I’m sitting here as a co-owner of a club I helped run from day one. I get to enjoy this every day and earn my keep.
Luka and I grew up together. He moved here from Australia when he was seven. We spent all our time with each other, riding motorcycles and figuring out our next move.
He is like a brother to me.
I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. We were always there for each other, through every milestone, heartbreak, and celebration. I had to bear the news when his parents were killed in a ski accident—that was one of the hardest days of my life but I knew we would get through it.
We always did.
I shove my hand into my front pocket, extracting my phone as it pings with a new message.
Nana
Don’t forget your doctor’s appointment tomorrow.
It’s like I summoned her and now a jolt of anxiety rushes through my body.
Ronnie
As if I could. It’s not my first.
Nana
Don’t patronize me, Rowan, I will send you a box of chicken wings from the restaurant later.
A grin stretches across my mouth. She’s the only person who scolds me and offers food in the same sentence.
Ronnie
Thank you, Nana.
I love you.
Nana
