I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(64)

My stomach sours at the thought of Missy and Chase having done, really, anything. Maybe this is part of what Chase is referring to when he says he’s trouble? But my guy and the head of the bake committee? Ugh. I can’t even.

I force myself to ask Missy, “Why do you say he’s a player?”

She flips her blonde hair back. She used to always wear it up, but that’s another change I’ve noticed. Her hair is down almost all the time now.

“I’ve just heard things, that’s all,” Missy replies, picking up the pencil she set down earlier, and studying it intently. “I’m sure it’s all the same stuff you’ve heard. He does have a reputation, you know?”

I nod, but I also breathe a sigh of relief. I know Chase has a past. A past filled with many…conquests. Thank goodness Missy isn’t among them. That would just be weird.

“Hey, I actually came in to ask you a question,” Missy points the pencil at me once more as she, thankfully, changes the subject.

“Okay.”

“What are you doing tonight? Do you have any plans?”

I thought I had plans, but Chase made it clear I’d not be seeing him until tomorrow. Do I really feel like sitting home all night? Not particularly. My life has changed a lot in the past few weeks. I’m more apt to take chances, live a little, so to speak. So far, I’ve done this chance-taking, this life-living thing, with Chase only. Makes sense, since he’s the one who got the whole thing started for me. But I feel ready to expand my horizons. I’m ready to make others a part of my life too.

With my new attitude and renewed enthusiasm, I look up at Missy from my seated position at the desk, and ask, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

A smile creeps along her lips as she drums the pencil excitedly on the desk. “You’re really up for doing something?” I nod and Missy actually squeals. “Oh my God, this is great. We are going to have so much fun, you’ll see.”

Missy’s reaction makes me realize this is the first time I’ve ever agreed to do anything with her outside of church obligations.

“So, where should we go?” I ask.

She hops down from the desk and straightens her skirt. “Ooh, I know. Let’s go to the Anchor Inn.”

I groan a little inwardly because that place is such a pick-up joint, but it’s also one of the only bars in town where you can dance.

Oh, what the hell, I think. To Missy, I say, “Okay, that works for me.”

We finalize our plans—I’ll meet her at the entrance to the Anchor Inn at eight o’clock so we can go in together and find a booth. After Missy leaves, I debate whether I should call Chase and tell him my plans. I decide against it. He wanted some time to himself and calling will make it seem like I’m trying to find excuses to contact him. So, I let things be.

After work ends, I speed back to my apartment so I can get ready. I shower and pick out a cute outfit I’ve never worn. I bought it last fall when I was sort of dating Nick, but we quit seeing each other before I ever got around to wearing it.

I get the scissors out and cut off the tags. The jeans are this nice deep, dark indigo color. The cut is skinny, but the denim is stretchy. I tug indigo up my legs and over my hips. I zip up. The jeans are snug, but for the most part, comfy. The blouse, I find I love. It looks fantastic once it’s on my body. The fabric is light and summery, a pale yellow crinkled chiffon. Floral embroidery stitching runs all along the neckline and up over the shoulders. I pair the whole ensemble with a pair of flat-soled metallic sandals.

When all is said and done I take a spin in front of the mirror in the bathroom. I have to say I look good, maybe a little sexy, even. Too bad my night is about to be spent with Missy and not with someone I know would fully appreciate my appearance this evening.

Oh, well.

Three hours later Missy and I are seated at a booth near the bar, drinking margaritas out of salt-rimmed glasses. The music blares around us, and the place is filling up rapidly.

“Are you having a good time?” Missy yells over the music.

She’s wearing a low-cut top and a pair of tight jeans. The blue fabric v of her top is so low and revealing I have to resist the urge to tell Missy she’s about to have a nip-slip any minute. Somehow, I don’t think she cares.

I take a sip of my margarita, and answer her question, “Yeah, it seems fun here, so far.”

I am exaggerated a little, I’m mostly just bored. But soon the alcohol from the margarita begins coursing through my system, and I begin to think there may be the potential for good times ahead.

I bounce a little in my seat to the bass beat of the tune that’s playing, and say, “We should dance.”

“Sure.” Missy holds up her margarita “After we finish our drinks, yeah?”

I nod and start sipping.

Just as we finish off our margaritas, and are about to hit the dance floor, I spot Nick Mercurio, manager at Pizza House and one-time date of mine. He’s with a friend, some guy I’ve never seen before. But the guy bears a striking resemblance to Nick. The two of them just got here, but, even from this vantage point, it’s apparent they’re both a little drunk. I try to hurry Missy along so we can get out to the dance floor and lose ourselves in the crowd. I don’t care to deal with Nick and any alcohol-fueled advances tonight.

Unfortunately, Missy is fumbling around in her purse, searching for who-knows what, and taking forever. “Come on,” I prod, standing up.