My relaxing day of recuperation slipped away until it was nearly happy hour. I changed into a nice pair of jeans with stylish cuts at the knee, a skin-tight black spaghetti-strap tank top, and an oversized off-white sweater warm enough to keep me from freezing without turning me into a giant puffball. It was cute but casual. Not messy or flashy.
Originally, my plan was to head straight to my car and drive home, but during daylight hours, the bar didn’t seem so bad. A bouncer hung out in the doorway, talking to someone inside. His hood was up, so I couldn’t see his face. Was Zack working today? Not that it mattered, but it’d be rude if I just walked by him. Plus, I didn’t want the driver who just dropped me off to think I was a loser who didn’t have anyone to meet up with. I would go in. Say hi. Thank him…again. Be cool about it.
I fished my ID out of the back of my phone and tapped it against my thigh as I strode up to the entrance. This was no big deal. No one would recognize me. No one except Zack maybe.
I stepped inside and smiled at the back of the bouncer’s head. “Hi.”
He turned, and my heart sank. It wasn’t Zack. This guy had a squashed face and eyebrows so fair they disappeared when he squinted at me and my ID. “Hey. Are you here for the show?”
Did they do improv here or had I inadvertently walked into some version ofCoyote Uglybar-dancing? “Sorry?”
“Band’s playing in a few minutes.” He jerked his chin at the far end of the bar where Theo was set up last night. The long table had been folded against the wall to make room for a few amps and instruments.
A big guy in a white T-shirt and baggy jeans strummed his guitar. His broad shoulders flexed as he strolled across the makeshift stage. “Check, one, two. Check.” It was only a mic test, but one word from Zack, and my heart beat fast. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run or dance.
12
Number One Fan
I couldn’t go up to him like this. He was busy with the band. I didn’t recognize any of the other members. Some unshaven guy in plaid fiddled with the amp until it shrieked. I winced.
Zack twisted around and barked, “Don’t touch those, I already set them up so we wouldn’t get feedback.”
“Sorry, I thought we might get better acoustics if I angled them,” the guy said.
Did Mr. Lumberjack think he knew better than Zack?
Not that I was personally invested. I sat on a stool at the bar and crossed my legs, turning my back to the band.
What was I supposed to do? Force myself into their conversation? Stay for their set?
A bartender toweled off the counter. “Can I help you?”
The menus had some kind of yellow-ish coating I didn’t want to handle any more than I had to. “Is the food any good here?” I hadn’t had dinner.
The bartender shrugged. “It’s half-price appetizers right now. I’d go with the wings.”
It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but I ordered them anyway. What was one more impulse in the grand scheme of my new year?
A drummer tapped a countdown, then the band blasted into a cover song. What the hell? They didn’t even do an introduction. I propped up my chin and angled to listen better.
Zack kicked and strummed, twisting his body around the guitar as if they were dance partners. He was super into it, not paying attention to his potential audience. I kinda appreciated that. The music mattered. It wasn’t bad. The guitar riff was actually pretty impressive.
Without thinking, I cheered for him.
He set his feet shoulder-width apart and whipped his gaze straight at me.
For a second, I froze. I was used to being invisible, or at least anonymous, around him. Why had I drawn his attention when I didn’t have a plan?
My fingers crept across the bar. Maybe I could cancel those wings and bolt.
But Zack didn’t seem put off by my presence. His neck and ears reddened. He nodded a greeting and kept playing the set. Instead of dancing, he paced and bobbed his head.
Okay. Nothing bad happened. Maybe we were kinda, almost friends.
I smiled and settled in at the bar to catch up on social media while I enjoyed the set. A new notification wrinkled my insides.
