“I need a drink,” I tell him. “Keep herawayfrom Alyssa.”
RJ nods. When I hop from the stage, my bad knee nearly gives out, but I catch myself at the last second. I push my way through the crowd and find a place at the bar where I can keep the crew in view. As I watch the crowded club around me, I think of the photo I saw on Alex’s Instagram page the other day. It was a selfie of him, Jo, and Greyson. All three of them had their faces covered in flour.Too many cooks in the kitchen, the caption read. The sight of it made me feel scooped out like an ice cream tub with nothing but freezer-burned bits left in the corners.
I missed Jo, but that wasn’t the problem. The photo made me feel jealous. Jo had changed. It was a good thing. I was happy for her. But atthe same time I felt... annoyed. I used to think the two of us were on the same wavelength. Everyone else we knew seemed to be going somewhere or pushing toward something, whether professional or personal. But Jo and I weren’t like that. Other than the bucket list she did for her thirtieth birthday, we didn’t make long-term plans or envision lofty life goals. We asked for nothing. We claimed our place in life and were perfectly content.
But Jo isn’t just content anymore. She’shappy. And though she still makes time for me, I can’t help but feel she’s left our frequency for another. One I’m not sure I’ll ever be capable of tuning in to.
I order a drink and scan the room for Ollie and Alyssa, spotting them talking against the far wall of the club. Ollie nods, brow furrowed in concentration as Alyssa speaks. When she finally runs out of things to say, Ollie pats her on the shoulder. He says something short in reply, but whatever it is makes an impact, because frigid, aloof Alyssa is suddenly hugging him.
Ollie hugging another woman doesn’t bother me. It’s amusing to watch him awkwardly pat her on the back. It was painful whenever he dated other women over the years, but I never felt jealous. He’d seen me with other men too—no relationships, but plenty of flings. It was never a big deal. He knew none of them were serious. And I knew I could have Ollie if I wanted. I knew he’d leave anyone for me.
Alyssa eventually disappears into the crowd. Ollie casts his gaze over the nightclub and smiles when he spots me. I wave before turning back to the bar to order him a beer.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Ollie says when he comes up behind me. I pass him the beer, which he accepts with a nod.
“Thanks for the help back there,” I say. “How’d you talk her down?”
“Didn’t,” Ollie says. “Just stood there and let her ramble on. Told her I was sorry she had a rough day.”
“And that worked?”
“People seem to like it when you let them finish their sentences,” he says, and gives me a pointed look.
“Me? Interrupt anyone? Ha,” I say.
We stand beside each other, drinking and not speaking. It’s so loud in here that it wouldn’t be worth the energy to try to hold a conversation. I keep tabs on the crew, relieved everyone seems to have cooled down. Alyssa has rejoined the others, though she and Britt give each other a wide berth and won’t make eye contact.
“You good, love?” Ollie says into my ear.
“Marvelous.”
“You look down.”
Is that what’s going on? The thought never crossed my mind. Between this and my conversation with Xav, I’m starting to wonder what I must look like to everyone else. I’ve never been the type of person to wallow for long when things don’t go my way. I don’t see the point in it. Everything is what it is. There’s no use trying to change it. “Do you really want to know what’s wrong with me?” I say.
“I know plenty of things that are wrong with you, kitten,” Ollie replies. His dimples peek out from behind his beer when he lowers his glass.
“Fair enough. But what’s wrong rightnowis you haven’t ordered me a shot of tequila and taken me out on the dance floor.”
“Well, those are two problems Icanfix,” Ollie says.
He winks, and when he turns to wave down the bartender, I find myself wondering if there aren’t other problems of mine Ollie can solve after all.
***
When we finally leave Lotus, it’s nearly three in the morning.
“I want grilled cheese!” Simon whines from where he’s slumped over RJ’s lap in the back of the van we’ve called to take us to the marina.
“You’re totally langers, all of you,” Ollie says from beside me.
“No one understands you,” I mumble into his shoulder.
RJ, Matt, and Britt begin chanting “grilled cheese” over and over until Ollie shouts, “All right! I’ll make your fecking grilled cheese if you’ll just shut up!”
The van falls silent the rest of the way to the marina.
Ollie, true to his word, heads straight to the galley when we return. I hop up onto the island counter and watch him cook, tuning in and out of the conversation, drunkenly mesmerized by the seemingly endless supply of grilled cheeses Ollie makes.
