“So, you gonna leave it open?” the bartender asks, hesitantly.
“I guess.”
“Works every time.” Tanner chuckles, sipping from his glass. “So, why are you here drinking alone?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
Silence hangs between us. We’re friends. We’ve hung out numerous times with other people, but never alone—never just the two of us. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever had a real conversation with Tanner Mitchell that didn’t involve at least one other person. Not that I’ve wanted to or had the chance. When we’re together he’s usually too busy flirting or goofing off to be serious, but maybe tonight will be different.
TANNER
Wren’s eyes are the most beautiful shade of green and blue. They look like the ocean. Her auburn hair hits right above her ass. She’s wearing a green tank top that brings out her eyes and denim overalls covered in a floral pattern. The smallest bit of stomach is visible on each of her sides. Small freckles contrast against every inch of her milky skin, and I’m completely enchanted.
She clears her throat, and I realize I haven’t answered her question. Or did she not answer mine? I don’t remember.
“You good?” she asks.
“Yeah, sorry. Really long day. What did you ask?”
“Why are you drinking alone tonight?”
“Technically, I’m not alone. You’re here,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Shit, did they text you and tell you to come meet me?”
“Who?”
“The girls.”
“Nope. I haven’t talked to anyone all day. I was stuck at the office. I’m here because my day totally blew, and I needed a drink before I went home. You?”
She tips her head ever so slightly to the right and squints her eyes. “The office?”
“Yeah, the place I work. My own personal version of hell.”
She lets out a little giggle over the rim of her glass. “I didn’t have you pegged as the office type.”
“No? What did you think I did?”
“Honestly, I had no idea.” She shrugs her shoulders. “But the whole white-collar businessman who works weekends was not in my top five guesses.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t love it, so I guess you’re right that I’m not the office type.”
“Hmmm,” she responds. “Why was today bad?”
I don’t usually talk about this part of my life, but something in the way she’s looking at me makes me think I might want to tell her all of my secrets. I throw back the last of my drink. “Play me in a game of ping-pong. If you win, I’ll tell you, and if I win, you have to tell me why you’re here.”
She studies me for a quick second. “I really should go home.”
“Scared I’ll beat you? I get it.” I pick a piece of lint off of my shoulder. “I am one half of the Dink and Balls pickleball team and arguably our best player. I would be afraid I’d beat me too.”
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Be so insanely insufferable.” Her brow furrows, and she waves towards Frank. “I’ll see you later. Goodbye.”
Frank walks over. “Another round?”
