Fight or Flight(67)
“Babe. Ava, babe.” Harper shoved me suddenly and I had to grip on to the bar in front of me to keep myself on the stool.
I shot her a dirty look and she returned it with a worried one of her own. “The guy has been asking you for your order for about five minutes.” She gestured in front of us, where a bartender stood, staring back at me in what I could only guess was impatient amusement. “Well?”
“You could have ordered for me.” I turned to the bartender. “Clam chowder, please.”
He disappeared, leaving us to sit in silence, surrounded by the noisy chatter of the crowded bar.
“It was the accent, wasn’t it?” Harper said. “Made you think of him.”
I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist. “It’s bound to, right?” I shrugged, like it was no big deal.
“Sure, of course. But I don’t think it’s the first time you’ve thought of the guy in the six weeks since he left. I pretty much know you’re thinking about him all the time.”
My eyebrows drew together. “Not all the time. And when I do, it’s just because I miss the sex.”
“Why are you lying to yourself?”
We stared at each other, my best friend’s expression fierce with irritation. I studied her face and saw the one person—other than my uncle—who I could trust. “Because … I don’t want to get hurt again.”
Harper took a minute to process that, and then her gaze softened with understanding. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand in gratitude and then let it go to mutter sardonically, “So how ’bout them Red Sox?”
She chuckled and nudged me with her shoulder. “I have a better awkward-conversation breaker than that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking about breaking up with Vince.”
I let out a little sound of surprise and Harper gave me a wobbly smile. “I think he’s taking drugs.”
“Oh no.”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, because I know he’s never high when he’s with me. That’s a fact. I know what high looks like. But I know his band members are into recreational drug use and he acts cagey sometimes, like he’s hiding something. I can’t put up with that crap, Ava.” She shook her head, and I saw tears glisten in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Harper.”
She laughed but the sound was hollow. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“You don’t know for sure, though, right?”
“I’m confronting him tonight. I can tell when someone is lying, so one way or another I’ll know the truth.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about this sooner?”
“I was … I’m irritated that I’ve fallen for a guy who, if my suspicions prove correct, is not at all who I thought he was. I’m pissed that I’ve told him things about myself—personal, private things. And I’m … ashamed that I really, really want to wish the truth away and bury my head in the sand.” She stared at the bar counter, her jaw locked with gritted teeth as she refused to meet my eyes.
“Hey.” I placed a comforting hand on her small shoulder. “One, you don’t know it’s the truth just yet. And two, even if it is, you have nothing to be ashamed of. We can’t help who we fall for, but we are in control of our actions. Don’t blame yourself for caring about Vince, Harp. He’s not a bad guy. But if he’s taking drugs, he’s a good guy into bad things, and you know what you need to do in that situation.”
She covered my hand with hers and looked up at me, tears in her beautiful gray-blue eyes. “You won’t judge me for being a typical girl with a broken heart?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
Her lips trembled. “I really, really want to be wrong.”
Hurting for her, I had to blink back my own tears. “I really, really hope you are.”
“Clam chowdah!” The bartender rudely burst into our moment by dumping two big bowls in front of us.
Harper’s lips twitched and that set me off.
We both burst into laughter, hysterical, rib-hurting laughter, over our bowls of clam chowder. Not because the interruption was really that funny, but because we both needed to laugh.
It was either that or cry.
Twenty
The month of May was one of my favorites in Boston. The weather began to turn a little warmer, to pleasant mid-sixties during the day, so I could walk around without a jacket. And so far the weather, other than the rainfall last weekend, had been sunny and bright, like the city was trying to lift its inhabitants’ spirits.
However, at night the temperatures dropped to upper forties. So while I was enjoying a beautiful Wednesday afternoon on a long lunch date with a man Stella had set me up with, I was surprised to get a text from Patrice inviting me onto her boat on Saturday night.
She was having a boat party.
That was going to be a chilly event.
“Everything okay?”
I stopped licking my ice cream and glanced up from my phone.
Leo Morgan was licking his own ice cream and staring at me quizzically. The sight should have really done more to me in my excitable areas. After Caleb left, Stella took the fact that I’d been seeing him as a green light to start setting me up again. When she first mentioned Leo Morgan, an acquaintance’s son who was getting back into the dating game after the end of a youthful marriage, I’d said no. Stella didn’t take no for an answer. She started telling me about how he was a successful corporate lawyer, about all the charities he worked with, and blah blah blah. It was only when she finally shoved his photo in my face and I saw him that I paused. He looked awfully young.