“Where’s he taking you?”
There is no “he,” but I sort of like the fact that Lucky is interested in my plans for tonight. “I think we’re going to Illini Inn.” Illini Inn is probably the most popular place for U of I college kids to hang out. And because they serve food, minors are allowed.
Lucky’s expression morphs into one filled with concern. “You run into any problems, you call me, yeah?”
“Sure.” The two of us are so close now I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. God, he’s beautiful. “But there won’t be any problems.” Because none of this is true. We’ll probably go to the inn, Deena will meet someone, and I’ll head home. It’s how it works with the two of us.
“No matter. Call me if you need me.”
“Sure, Lucky.” I nod. Why argue with the guy?
With a little squeeze on my thigh, Lucky stands. That’s when I realize the room has gone completely silent. When the two of us turn, both Joe and Deena are watching us. “What?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
“Nothing.” Deena’s smirk is obvious.
Joe’s expression is unreadable.
“Well, see you boys later.” Deena holds the door open and waves her arm to get them out. Once they’re gone and the door is shut, she squeals like she just won the lottery. “Oh. My. God.” She’s now jumping up and down, clapping. “Lucky’s so in love with you.”
Here we go again. “No.” I shake my head. “He’s not, so please just stop right there. I can’t go through another week of thinking he likes me when he doesn’t. Let’s just go out so you can land a guy.” And I can come back and… sit here alone.
Deena crosses her arms in her usually defiant stance. “Did you happen to tell him where we’re going?”
“Well, yeah. He asked—”
Uncrossing her arms, she steps over to me. Bending at the waist, she’s as close to me as Lucky was a minute ago. “I’ll bet you a night alone in the room he—”
Shaking that off, I refuse the bet. “No. You aren’t getting me to fall for that again.”
“Fine. I’ll bet you a week of only listening to your crap music that Lucky will show up tonight.” Crap music? Who is she kidding? My music rocks. Well, it’s Country, but you get the gist.
“You’re wrong.” I know he won’t show up, because he just told me to call him if I needed him. Which I won’t, so I won’t.
“We’ll see.” She stands upright and touches the top of my head. “Now. Let’s get you looking hot as hell.”
Whatever. I want to roll my eyes, because that’s what she always says, and it never works.
* * *
“Wow, this place is dead.”
I look around the Illini Inn and shrug. It’s not dead, per se. I’ve only been here one other time after a big football win, and if she’s basing it on that, then, yes, it’s dead. “It’ll probably pick up later.”
“Hope you’re right.” She scans the bar. “Slim pickin’s right now.”
What she means is, there don’t seem to be many men about. I’m not unhappy about that. Maybe the two of us will actually spend some time together. “Let’s grab that booth.” I point to the lone empty booth close to the back of the place.
“Score,” she shouts. “At least we’ll get a table.”
We slide into a booth that has seen better days. The orange vinyl seat is cracked and worn. If this booth could talk, it’d probably have some good stories to tell. Heck, the entire bar is like that. “Dive bar” is what Joe always calls it. I’d call it casual and unpretentious. How can a place with dingy brown paneling on the walls and ancient lighted beer signs be pretentious? It can’t. I settle into my seat and I’m about to ask Deena about her classes when the waitress stops by to get our order. While we wait, Deena does what she always does: she hunts her next prey.
“Got him.” She smirks.
“Where?” I look to my right.
“Guy playing pool. Gray tee.”
They’re all wearing gray tees. “Ah. Yes.” I have no idea who she’s talking about, and I don’t really want to know.
