“Whoa,” I say as I push through the crowd toward the bar. But then again, I come during the weekdays mostly.
Charlie’s working the far end of the bar, serving drinks to what looks like a whole sorority’s worth of girls. I follow Diane to the other end of the bar, where a younger guy is making drinks. Is that James, I wonder? I don’t remember and my brain is hazy.
I try to think what his name is with every step, but it escapes me. I realize that I must be tipsy, so I try to rein myself in while I stand at the bar, although my eyes keep darting to Charlie, waiting for him to see me. There’s not enough alcohol to make the bundle of nerves in my stomach knock it the heck off.
It takes a couple of minutes for me to get a drink. When I’m finally at the front of the line at the bar, I catch Charlie’s eye. He looks at me first, then at my work friends, and sort of shakes his head. He’s smiling, though. I bite down on my lip, feeling the smile stretch across my face as I rock on my heels.
But before I can even say hi, his attention is diverted back to the coeds, and he says something that makes them all titter. I’m certain one of them attempts to pull Charlie in for a kiss. He dodges the kiss at the last minute, but I’ve had my fill of watching.
It’s justfun.
All that internal pep talk leaves me in a quick second.
I turn away, grabbing my drink, cheeks heating and my throat feeling tight. If Charlie can flirt with every woman who looks his way, there’s nothing saying that I can’thave funwith whoever I want. As if that’s what I want to do right now. I dance my way over to Diane, trying not to let my hurt show. Well my attempt of a dance. It’s more like I sway my way over to her.
It’s not like you even have anything with Charlie, I remind myself.
I put my hands up in the air and dance, careful not to spill my drink. I’m sticking with beer tonight. Diane and the girls join in, and I try to just relax and have fun. I refuse to look over at Charlie, instead plastering my gaze on the back wall where the TVs display some music video.
It doesn’t take long for the group of girls on the dance floor to draw more men in and for Ann to decide her time is up. She rushes out, her husband waiting for her in the parking lot.
With her gone, and Charlie... preoccupied, my mind goes exactly where I don’t want it to.
It’s crowded, it’s loud and I feel like shit. In a room with all these people, I have to force the smile on my face and I just want to go home.
This was a mistake and the second I know that, I sneak out and get a cab home. Not looking back to say goodbye to the girls or to Charlie. I’ll make up some excuse tomorrow but I just have to get out of there. I don’t know what my first mistake was, but coming here tonight sure as hell was a mistake.
Charlie
My alarm clock goes off, but I’m already up. I slap my hand down and the incessant beeping stops. I couldn’t sleep for shit. The whole night, all I kept thinking was that I’m an asshole for trying to be with Grace without giving her a commitment. What’s even worse is feeling like she’s done with me.
She didn’t say a word and she left the moment she got there. She’s most certainly done with me.
I don’t want to be done with her.
Sinking back into the bed, I stare at the thin opening between the dark curtains and watch the stream of light pouring into the bedroom. My only sliver of hope is that she said she’d go to the wedding. I don’t know why I’m holding onto her as hard as I am. We haven’t even kissed. She’s not tied to me in the least.
The bed groans as I slowly slip off the edge and stretch my arms high above my head. I blow out a tired exhale as my bare feet pad across the wooden floors. They’re cold, and I’m pretty sure the furnace went out last night. Every hair on my arms stands on end as goosebumps travel up my back to the base of my neck.
Damn, I hadn’t even noticed. I grab my phone off the nightstand on my way out of the bedroom. I have to call her or text her. Something; I can’t let her think I’m just some prick.
That’s exactly how she looked at me last night. My heart thuds hard in my chest as I climb down the stairs, not bothering to grip onto the iron railing. I don’t go around kissing random women. Maybe I did once, but that was a long time ago.
This house is old, built in the '30s and in need of a little more TLC. I bought it just before I bought the bar from Mac. I round the stairs in the foyer and take in the progress I’ve made. The slate flooring at the entry is fucking freezing against my bare feet. The furnace definitely went out.
I was able to get more work done on the house before I started spending all of my time at the bar. The first floor is completely remodeled, with new practically everything and fresh paint. Gray tones and dark blues are the theme throughout the open floor plan, including the black granite and steel backsplash in the kitchen. I spent all the money I had to make this place into the modern bachelor pad I wanted it to be.
But now when I look at it, it’s just cold. Empty. Devoid of life. The lines are too straight, and the furniture practically looks brand new. 'Cause it’s barely been touched.
The door to the basement opens up with a creak and I switch on the light, a single bulb at the bottom of the rickety stairs. I never did get around to making the downstairs what I wanted it to be. A half-built bar is in the very back. Drywall's been put up and screwed into place, but I haven’t spackled it yet.
I don’t even want to finish it anymore; I think I just wanted to believe I was loving the bachelor life.
The truth hits me hard, like a bullet to the chest, but I keep moving, heading toward the furnace to mess with the electrical box. I know the right cords that need to be wiggled and tightened to get it to kick back on. I should get Joseph to come down here and fix this shit.
As I’m messing with the cords in the box, I think back to how pissed off I was when I bought this house.
It was the first one on my list. The realtor showed it to me, and I bought it right then and there. All the money that I had saved up for the wedding became a down payment instead.
