Page 8 of Heartbeat

We stood there for a few moments, quietly admiring each other, while Blake, Sam, and Adam talked to Lenny—he was the reason any of us were even allowed in the club to start with. If it weren’t for Lenny passing everyone’s ID as legit, all any of us could do at The Den would be to listen to bad amateur cover bands while sipping Red Bulls with tiny umbrellas in them. He didn’t do it out of kindness, of course. It took a lot to turn Lenny nearsighted, even more to make sure he stayed that way. Lucky for us, Lenny’s talent for spotting a losing basketball team was far greater than his morals.

“I gotta go,” she finally said, almost apologetically. “I’m actually on a date.”

“Okay,” I said, managing a smile.

“I’ll keep an eye on Noah for you.”

Noah had just started his first year at Magnolia.

“You’re still awesome,” I told her.

“I know.” She grinned, leaned in, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Bye, guys,” she sang, before turning and walking away.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen exes behave like that,” Sam stated.

“She seems so nice.” Blake said.

“She is.” I still looked in the direction Summer had disappeared.

“What did she mean by—” Adam started to say.

“I’m going to go get something to drink. You guys want anything?” I asked.

“Uh, no,” Sam said.

“We’re good,” said Adam.

“I’ll be right back.” I didn’t even know if they’d heard me or not; I was already midway through to the bar when I said it.

“One double vodka, please,” I asked the bartender.

She laughed.

“Ask Lenny,” I told her, earning myself a furrowed brow.

When she poured me my drink, I instantly chugged it.

“Again, please.”

Bowie was playing in the background—"Rebel, Rebel”—which was so fucking fitting. The first time Summer and I kissed had been to that song, and I’ve always found it interesting how even after we broke up, I could hear it and not feel weird or sad. It hadn’t been ruined, maybe because one couldn’t really ruin Bowie. But also, I liked to think it was because we weren’t ruined, just…done.

That night, however, it did feel just a bit weird, but I knew it was entirely my fault.

“You came,” Ethan said happily, walking up and standing next to me at the bar.

I finished my second double vodka before turning to him.

“Hi,” I said to him, and then to the girl behind the bar, “One more, please.”

“Uh.” He looked at the empty glass and then back at me. “Bad night?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, first of all, you don’t even flinch when you chug that down. And, well, in my experience, someone only drinks like that if they want to either forget something or do something they wouldn’t normally do.”

“Right,” I took hold of my glass once more.

“So, which is it?” he asked. “In your case.”

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