“Garrett’s thing is more reading the obituaries of the people he’s bored to death,” I shoot back.
“Ha!” A bark of laughter belts out of Miles.
Suck on that Garrett the Judgy.With a smirk, I move my hand and come into contact with a glass on the table’s edge. Before I can react, it slides off the table. Cool liquid splashes onto my lap, and the sound of glass breaking fills my ears.
“Shit!” I hiss, my pulse ticking up.
“Jensen, are you okay? Did you get any glass on you?” Garrett moves to my side and places his hand on my arm.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Here, napkins,” Garrett takes my hand and places a small stack of cocktail napkins in it. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His thumb skates along my wrist.
“Yeah.” I yank my hand from his. The heat of humiliation blazes up my neck. No doubt, my face is pink with embarrassment.
“If you wanted to buy me a drink, you didn’t need to go to these lengths, Jenny.” Miles’s tut is lighthearted.
“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry,” I whisper, wiping at my wet skirt.
“These things happen,” Anker says. “Hell, I spilled an entire cup of coffee on my lap the other day. Thank God, it was iced coffee, or else making our parents’ grandparents would be solelyon you.” His chair screeches as he rises. “Let me go grab staff to help with the cleanup. Be right back.”
“Yeah. These things happen,” Miles seconds.
“Especially when you just set your drink there without telling her where it is.” Garrett’s voice has a hard edge. It’s not his typical dismissiveness, but angry.
I school my features into a forced smile. “It’s totally fine… It’s on me.Literally.” Waving at my lap, I offer a halfhearted laugh. “I should have anchored with the table instead of just moving my hand without thinking. I’m sorry?—"
“It’s not your fault. It’s his,” Garrett jumps in.
“It was an accident, bloke,” Miles says, his posture going rigid beside me.
“I…” Shaking my head, I swallow thickly to ease the mortification clustering in my throat. “I’m going to run to the restroom to properly address this.” Pushing back the prick of threatening tears, I unfold my white cane and head to the restroom without another word.
In the bathroom, I lean against the door, steadying my breath. For most people, this isn’t a big deal. Glasses fall. They break. It happens, but when you’re visually impaired, it feels different. There’s this added layer that weighs you down in these moments. At least for me. If not for my vision loss, this wouldn’t have happened. I’d have seen the glass. Staff wouldn’t need to clean anything up. Anker wouldn’t be comforting me. Garrett would just find another reason to be his grumpy self instead of doing unnecessary battle on my behalf. Miles wouldn’t have been about to apologize until I interrupted him to spare both our feelings.
This incident likely reminds him why I’mjustthe friend he’s kissed a few times. A relationship with me comes with rules, of sorts. As independent as I am, there are things I need from thepeople in my life to support that. Like letting me know when they’ve set something down in front of me and where it is.
No wonder he doesn’t want me.That ever-present knot in my stomach in social situations pulls just a little tighter.
“Don’t do that. You’renotthat teenage girl that boys only kissed as a bet, or that coed that someone… Nope, we’re not going there.” I wrap my arms around my torso in a soothing self-hug.
It’s almost too cliché. Here I am, in the women’s restroom on the brink of tears, like it’s the eleventh-grade homecoming dance after I found out Everett only kissed me for a bet.
Choosing not to give in to self-pity, I push away from the wall. Grateful that I wore the black pencil skirt, instead of the pink one I’d thought about this morning, I dab it with a wet paper towel and do my best to pat it dry. A spritz of the perfume from my purse will help cover up the smoky aroma of scotch.
“No more being the sad, embarrassed girl,” I say, patting my face dry after splashing cold water on it. “You’re going to go out there. You’re going to flirt with Miles, and tonight will be the night he’ll realize that you’re more than a friend.”
Grabbing my cane, I open the door and head out.
“Jensen…”
“Crap…” My hand goes to my chest.
“Sorry. It’s Garrett. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”
“I know who you are.” I stand straighter. While I appreciate him announcing himself, my annoyance overrides his good blind person etiquette.
“Here.” He reaches out and pushes something into my hand, it’s fabric soft and warm. “To wear. You can wrap it around your waist.”
