I was just about to text you.
We are! Thanks for fitting me in.
Paloma
Sorry I’m just confirming, it’s been a busy week.
Clint
It’s okay.
See you soon *winky face*
Could he be flirting with me?I stare at the winky face emoji for two seconds too long and watch as those three little dots pop up again.
Clint
Plus, I promised you food *smirking face*
He’s definitely flirting.Now all I can picture is that smirk he reserves only for me. I pack up my laptop in case I’ll need it and give Waffles a few scratches under his chin before I’m heading out of the door.
Humming a song I can’t remember the name of, I turn the key and unlock Shaken Tropes. The song has been stuck in my head since the meeting at Mossy Oaks. It was just low enough while I talked with Clinton that it embedded itself in my mind. When Glen concluded the welcome meeting, Clinton asked if we could meet, and when I suggested here, he quickly agreed, promising to pick up lunch from Eggs Benny. They have the absolute best chicken sandwich with thick slices of avocado and a sauce made with sundried tomatoes—any chance I get, I order said sandwich.
I lean over the bar and grab for the towel I know is folded behind it. My feet dangle as I reach, my torso basically sprawled on the bar top, and I almost feel silly considering I could have gone around. When my fingers rub against the soft fabric, I snatch it up along with the spray bottle of cleaner. I love when the bar is quiet like this before anyone comes in;it's just me and Shaken Tropes. It gives me a few moments to appreciate this life. Getting to work with my best friend and live out one of our dreams. I smile to myself as I spray the tables, giving each of them a good wipe down. Knowing he’s coming to the bar gives me butterflies. He’s someone I used to care for deeply. And having him here, a place I put all my worry but also joy, dreams, and love into—I wonder if he’ll see straight through me.
A firm knock at the front door pulls me from my thoughts, and I jog from a booth to answer, hoping it is my sandwich and the silver fox I can’t stop thinking about.
“Hey there,” I say, breathless as I take him in. A dimple appears on his cheek as he smirks down at me, and I try to convince myself I don’t want to lick it.
“Hey, Heartbreaker. It’s good to see you.” I lock the door behind him. The bar isn’t open and I don’t want to worry about anyone walking in while I talk with Clinton. His lavender and sandalwood scent engulfs me, scattering the butterflies in my stomach. I shake the thoughts away. I told myself I could be an adult, and it’s exactly what I’m going to do. I internally reprimand myself, refocusing on Clint.
“Thank you for picking up lunch,” I say just as my empty stomach makes itself known. “I’m starved. Come this way, we can sit right over here and discuss how we are going to attack the coordination of the tournament.” I lead Clinton over to a table, and he sets the bag of food down and pulls out a wrapped sandwich and a small container of what I hope are Parmesan fries.
“The owner said you would absolutely want these.” He sets the box down, and I just know if he mentioned my name, Benny knew to include them. He pulls out another wrapped sandwich and a box of sweet potatotots that he opens immediately.
I unwrap my sandwich and take a bite, enjoying how the avocado and melted cheese complement each other. Swallowing, I take a small sip of water. “I needed to take a bite of this before I pulled out this folder.” I hand him the folder with my notes so we can discuss the tournament.
He chuckles and says, “I actually looked it over yesterday, and the club’s event coordinator planned out a lot for us already. We can stick to the script and figure out how we divide and conquer.” He slides an identical folder onto the table and angles it my way. Glen gave us both folders with the same information. When I open the folder, I notice Clinton has marked a few suggestions based on me being on the bar cart the day of the charity tournament.
“Thank you for this.” My eyes flick to his for only a moment before they are back on the page. There is an air of awkwardness around us, and I don’t know if I’m the only one feeling it. Clinton has always been someone so at ease with himself, I’ve always found it incredibly attractive.
I lick my lips, rubbing them together, before I dare another glance at him. I catch his gaze from over his folder, his eyes crinkle letting me in on the smirk he’s hiding behind the large logo printed across the front. I don’t deserve his flirting, not when I haven’t even apologized to him. I don’t know if I should address the elephant in the room, even if it seems to be sitting quietly in a corner. Clinton deserves a real apology, but I don’t know if this is the right moment.
You can do this Paloma. Just apologize to the man and move on. He probably isn’t even thinking about it.
My eyes scan the folder a bit more, and I bite into a French fry, putting off the inevitable. “You know your mom gave me your number. If I hadknown it was you…” Clint’s silky voice drops off without finishing his sentence, and again I am reminded why I want him so badly.
“Hm, yeah? Well, how many Palomas could possibly be in the area?” I tease, wanting to egg him on just a little.
“She didn’t actually tell me your name. She was too excited telling me about her stunninghija, who she couldn't believe was still single, and then she went full on Spanish.” He chuckles, and I can already hear Mami's voice and the things she most likely said.
“She does tend to do that,” I respond with my own giggle, before biting into another crispy fry. Being here with him right now feels so natural, and it reminds me of how we were seven years ago. There was always this easy energy when we were together; I never needed to put on a figurative mask or try to be someone I’m not. Much like with my best friends, I could just be, and it feels like that now. I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not, so I change the topic back to the tournament. “You noted something here.” I point to the page. “But I can’t understand what you wrote.”
“What do you think about a few competitions during the tournament?” He pops a sweet potato tot into his mouth, and I gulp, watching his sharp jaw work and his Adam’s apple bob. There’s no way he doesn’t know how attractive he is. Impossible. I swallow as his dimple indents his cheek. He continues, and I’m not sure if he’s choosing to ignore my ogling or if he is saving me from embarrassment. “We could do a hole of fortune, maybe a hole-in-one challenge. ”
I squint my eyes, not being familiar with hole of fortune. I think he may be pulling my leg. “Do you meanWheelof Fortune?” I ask, emphasizing the word.
He rests his elbows on the table, intertwines his fingers and rests hischin against them. “I'm just testing you. I knew you weren’t keeping up on the golf lingo.” He tuts, softly shaking his head.
