“Yeah. He was one of the groomsmen. I was into him and it seemed like he was into me.” My brother’s eyes glazed over. I was already losing him. “Except he left the reception early and didn’t say goodbye.”
Right after Marcy had demanded details about my “walk” with Jay, she’d asked my help using the restroom, and we spent a good five minutes trying to get her and her dress into the stall before deciding the safest bet was for her to get out of the dress altogether. It was no easy feat. Marcy had been secured inside the gown with buttons, hooks, and an invisible zipper Satan himself had designed.
Cooper looked indifferent. “Sounds like he wasn’t that into you.”
“No, he had to leave, I guess. I heard someone got wasted and Jay had to drive the guy home.”
“Did you give him your number?”
I pressed my lips together. “No. I got some of his.”
“Some?”
“He put his number in my phone, but it’s only six digits long.”
Cooper laughed. “Damn, Kayla. How is that not a clear signal?”
Annoyance flared in me, but I was trying to stay hopeful. “Maybe he just hit delete by accident when he went to save.”
“Sounds like he hit ‘delete’ on the idea of seeing you again, and did that on purpose.”
“Yeah? Well, the way he kissed me said otherwise.”
My brother grimaced. “I don’t want to hear about that.”
For a long moment, we just stared at each other as a silent battle waged between us. Finally, Cooper sighed, and I felt I had an opening to continue. “So, what do I do?”
“Forget about him?” That was not the answer I wanted, and my face must have announced it, so he added, “Get his number from Marcy.”
“She’ll ask too many questions.”
“Then what about the guy she married? If super dreamy Jay was in the wedding, they must be friends.”
“I tried. Dave said ‘super dreamy’ Jay has a strict policy where nobody’s allowed to give out his number.”
It was like the magazine was calling to my brother. His focus shifted back to it. “Then, go with the first thing I suggested and forget him.”
Cooper might have been right, but I refused to accept it. There’d been a connection between Jay and me. A spark. I was confident I wasn’t the only one who’d felt it. “You know what Dad says.” My voice was flat. “God hates a quitter.”
He gave me a plain look. I was nothing if not stubborn, and everyone in my family knew it. “Track him down some other way, then. You know his last name?”
“Uh . . .” I wrinkled my nose. “He left early, remember? I don’t know that much about him.”
My brother shook his head. “Except he’s super dreamy.”
I had to admit, I wasn’t coming off great in this conversation. “You suck at girl talk.”
“Side effect of having a penis.”
The idea popped into my head and stopped me mid-chew. I hurried to my phone and thumbed out a message.
“What are you doing?” Cooper asked.
“Texting Dave.”
“The groom? On his wedding night?” His expression was full of judgement.
“Yeah, I know. But they’re leaving for a week-long cruise early tomorrow morning. It’s just one quick question and then I’ll leave them alone.”
“What are you asking him?”
“There’s a bar Jay said he hangs out at all the time. I’m asking Dave if he knows about it.”
Cooper fake-coughed. “Stalker.”
“Shut up.”
I set the phone down, only for it vibrate instantly. I stared at the screen and confusion drew my eyebrows together.
“What?” my brother asked. “Is it in Iraq or something?”
“No, the address looks legit.” It was the last sentence that gave me pause. “He said I’m ‘going to love that place.’”
I gripped the steering wheel and stared out the windshield of my car. Biff’s bar was a freestanding brick building, and the only windows were on the front side facing the street. They’d been glowing with neon beer logos when I’d turned into the parking lot and parked on the side. The place didn’t look busy, but it was a Monday night.
I’d sat here for more than a few minutes, trying to work up the nerve to go inside. Driving ninety minutes north from my apartment in Columbus on the gamble Jay might be inside this bar was crazy. There was no arguing that. I just couldn’t decide what kind of crazy it was. Cute? Desperate? Run-screaming-for-the-hills creepy? I almost turned around twice on the drive up, but pushed onward. I hated regret, and if Jay was in there—wouldn’t it be worth it?
I’d do my best to convince him showing up at his favorite bar wasn’t as stalker-ish as it sounded. Because it sounded really stalker-ish. Okay. Maybe I had to convince myself one more time to get off my butt and go inside. I grabbed my phone and called Chuck.
He answered on the first ring and didn’t bother with a greeting. “Is he there?”
I’d known my best friend and roommate since the dawn of time. We lived on the same cul-de-sac, were the same age and wound up playing together since we had no other options in the neighborhood. By the time we entered high school, our friendship had solidified into the “friends for life” category, and we had a hive mind about most things.
I was happy to have my friend back.
I’d missed him when he’d been on a month-long vacation in Europe, and he’d just gotten home on Sunday. I wasted no time filling him in on the Jay situation.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t gone in yet. Tell me again this isn’t going to come off as crazy.”
“Nah,” he said. “Guys like a girl who takes initiative. Hey, I wish I had balls like you.” His sarcastic voice rang in my ear. “Maybe Beth would be interested in me, then.”
My friend had a one-track mind. It was wall-to-wall coverage, all Beth, all the time. His massive crush on the girl was cute, but he suffered from crippling shyness. “You have to exist for her first. You guys really need to have, like, a conversation. One conversation, Chuck, about anything. Get on her radar. Then you can worry about your balls.” I made a face. “Why are we talking about your balls?”
His laugh was punctuated by beeping, which had to be the microwave at our place. Most college kids ate ramen noodles because they were cheap and fast. Not Chuck. He freaking loved them. I’d seen him pace in front of the microwave, twitchy and jonesing for his next fix.
I went serious. “What if he’s not in there, and I drove ninety minutes for nothing?”
Not only would it be embarrassing, but my car wasn’t in the best of shape, and every time I got behind the wheel, I was playing roulette. Eventually, my ancient Kia Rio was going to need to go live on a farm where it could frolic and play with other Kia Rios.
“Well,” Chuck said, “if he’s not there, I get to make fun of you.” He paused. “I’m sure he is, though. Positive thinking, right?”
Ever the optimist, my friend. He kept me bubbly and hopeful. “Yeah.”
The microwave issued a long beep, and I pictured the thrilled look on his face. “Gotta go, my gourmet meal is finally ready. Good luck!”
“Thanks.”