“The library is closing now,” a woman says.
“Right,” we say in unison. Dean slowly peels away from me. Luckily, all of our clothes, including my panties, are still on. I just have to adjust the twisted waist of my skirt. Dean keeps his back to the librarian, an Asian woman whose black hair is streaked through with gray at her temples.
“Sorry,” I say. “We just got engaged.”
“Congratulations,” she says with the flattest possible affect. I don’t think she means that.
She watches us gather our stuff and escorts us to the front doors. We definitely can never return here. This can never be my home branch. But with his hand in mine, his laughter in my ear, I can’t bring myself to care.
He kisses me the second we step outside as the librarian locks the doors behind us. “I know,” he says against my lips. “I said I’d feed…” We can’t stop kissing long enough to finish sentences. “You. But can we stop at…” Our kisses have dissolved into teeth and lips mostly. “Moonbar first?”
Finally, I pull my mouth away from his. “But isn’t there a BIA event tonight?”
He grins.
Moonbar looks closed.Like it’s not just a quiet night or a symptom of a poorly advertised BIA event. The business isclosed. There are nolights, no music pumping from behind the door. No laughter. Even Chuck, the bouncer, has deserted his station. “Maybe the BIA event got canceled?” I suggest.
But Dean pushes the door open anyway. He tugs my hand as we descend into the bar, the air thicker, a bit stuffier down here. “Don’t worry about it,” he says as the stairwell empties us out into the dark bar.
A moment later, the lights turn on, the music blares, and a cacophony of people yell at me. It takes a moment of silent blinking to fully process:Congratulations!
The first faces I recognize are Nick’s and Jasmine’s. Then my mom’s, my dad and his fiancé, who are supposed to be living in Japan right now. Lief and Ayesha. Dean’s mom and dad. Jade, Jasmine’s little sister, Rick and Matt, Mrs. Rivkin. It takes another longer moment to realize that I recognize every face here. These are all our friends, our family.
The bar is decked out in white streamers and balloons, and the lyrics to an early aughts emo song play on the screen above the karaoke stage.
And pinned across the back of the bar, hiding the old, foggy mirror and many random license plates, a banner with the words, in bright silver letters:
DEAN & CHLOE: MOST LIKELY TO MARRY
THE END
