"Anytime, honey." Aaron places his hand down on my shoulder and leans toward my ear. "Just holler if you need me to grab you another one."
I smile to thank him for the offer while spotting Chance's wondering eyes peering in through the front window.
He doesn't give up.
To piss Chance off, I press up on my toes and kiss Aaron on the cheek. "Thanks for being a good guy," I whisper.
His hand immediately wraps around my back. "I can be whatever kind of guy you want," he says.
Yup. Aaron is who I figured he was—smooth as pie, trying to play his cards right, so he doesn't seem like he's working on a game of pick-up.
Chance makes his way into the bar, and I take the opportunity to slip away from Aaron's vicinity, hoping to create some space between myself and Chance. I realize the encounter is inevitable with him because I've come to learn that Chance Miller doesn't give up easily.
I already know it's no use moving to the back of the bar because, by the time I get there, Chance will have me cornered. "What is your problem?" I ask him. "You are seriously starting to annoy me."
"Yeah, well, you're pretty irritating too. I'm trying to be a decent human being after watching you self-destruct over the past week. Girl, you need help, and I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I didn't think I at least tried." Chance runs his fingers through his damp, dark hair, appearing frustrated. How can anyone be so frustrated with a person they hardly know? "Haven't you ever seen someone in need of a hand and offered it to them without thinking?"
Oh my God. Is that what Chance sees when looking at me? Am I another form of Keegan in his eyes? A helpless person fighting off the side effects of abuse and neglect—a person lacking desire to make her life better? He doesn't have a clue who I am. He doesn't know that I count on one hand how many drinks I had before last week. Why do people assume they know everything? "I'm not who or what you think I am, so you can go on home and sleep comfortably knowing that. You don't have to worry about me. We're strangers—more or less."
"You're driving me nuts," he says.
"Yeah, well, you're driving me bonkers too. So, we're even."
"We're not even. If you saw someone acting like you out in public, I would hope you'd step in to help too."
"What am I doing that's so terrible? Having a drink like you do every night? And what makes you think I'd stalk someone that looks like they have issues?"
"You're not just having a drink, darlin'. We both know this."
"Mind your own business and get a Band-Aid while you're at it. You're bleeding."
He touches his fingers to his cheek, then pulls his hand away to inspect the damage. I don't recall seeing that cut on his face at Kenny's. I wonder what happened. "Fine. I'll stay away. Okay? Happy? Good luck with everything." Chance's anger is evident by the downturned look in his eyes and the crease in his red forehead. His chest is heaving heavier than usual, and his lips press together in a tight line.
I slam my glass down on the table next to me, feeling my eyes bulge at Chance. He's infuriating. "Good luck with everything? With what? Mourning over a suicide? Gee, thanks, 'friend.'"
"That's not what I meant, August."
"Yeah, well, that's what you just said, didn't you?"
"Just stop and talk to me for a minute, okay?" He does not give up.
"I've got nothing to say to you," I tell him. "I want to be alone. Can you just do that for me? Let me be alone."
For as little time as I've known Chance, it seems out of character for him to grab my glass and finish off what's inside, but that's what he does, then mirrors my action of slamming the glass down on the table.
"What the hell? That was my drink," I snap at him.
"Oh well. I'm sure your boyfriend over there can help you get another free one."
My heart is pounding, and my face is hotter than if I were sitting out in the sun. I cannot continue arguing with this idiot. "He's a nice guy. I bet he'll buy your sorry ass one too," I tell him.
I brush by Chance, knocking my shoulder into his ribcage, and nudge a few others out of my way as I make a quick exit out the door.
I swear to God, the floodgates from hell must have opened. The sidewalk is filling up with water. We aren't used to weather like this, and our drainage system clearly can't handle the deluge.
Thankfully, I wore running shoes to go along with my yoga pants and sweatshirt today. I pull my hoodie over my head and make a run for the bridge, where I need to be.
I can hardly see the water because of the rain, but I pull my daily note out of my pocket and unfold it.
