I’d accidentally stepped in a deceptively deep puddle after my second class of the day. The water and dirt ruined the bottoms of my beige slacks. I almost cried in the bathroom at how my stain-removing stick wasn’t doing anything. It took longer than I’d like to admit for me to calm down and remind myself that dry-cleaning existed for a reason. Pushing away my need to look one hundred percent presentable was a feat that zapped most of my energy.
My initial spark to take on the world this morning faded to a strained ember by the end of the day. So, I didn’t exactly feel like showing up for David’s dare. Especially when I realized it’d be at a bar…a cowboy-themed bar.
I had a rideshare drop me off in front of Ye-Haw Way a half hour before our meet-up time. The customerdemographic seemed diverse enough at first glance. Most who filtered in and out of the building wore cowboy-themed attire. I snapped a photo of the blinking ‘giddy on in’ welcome sign to send to David. There was slim to no chance Ye-Haw Way wasn’t his intended destination. But I still needed to try.
This the right place?
David
Congrats. You know how to use a GPS. Do you need help finding the door as well?
I blew out an annoyed breath and grabbed the wooden door handle. After I went through the traditional door, I came to a swinging door that reminded me of old Western bar entryways.
The inside of Ye-Haw Way was loud and packed. I raised a brow at the surprisingly colorful overhead lighting. There was a live band complete with banjo and fiddle players. The lead singer was a woman with dark skin and brown wooden beads at the end of her braids. Her deep voice reminded me of the older women in the choir from my church. She was far younger than they were, but she had an “old spirit” way about her, as she swayed back and forth.
It took me a second to re-focus on my main goal: finding David, finishing his dare, and getting the hell out of here. The place wasn’t as unwelcoming as I thought it’d be from the outside. I moved through the crowd easily enough. No one looked at me too weirdly, even though I felt wildly out of place in my business casual.
David sat at the bar. I paused for a second, taking in that his hair was shorter than usual. Whenever the football season was about to start, he’d get a good cut in. He wore his trademark jean jacket, which was fraying at the shoulders and along the sleeves. The cup sitting in front of him was empty, and hestared into the glass like it held the answer to life’s greatest mysteries. He glanced up every so often, as if he were looking for something he’d forgotten or needed.
When I finally moved closer, a guy beat me to the punch. He wore the cutest pair of floral cowboy boots, baggy jeans, and a white linen top. He was beautiful with his curly red hair and thick beard. I was close enough to hear that he had a tempting low voice to contrast his sweet exterior.
Most people nearby seemed to have eyes for him. But he didn’t seem interested in making eye contact with anyone outside of David.
I didn’t blame him. His bright aesthetic would stand in brilliant contrast to David’s. They’d be the pairing musicians wrote about: cute, mean guy, adorably sweet guy, and a fairytale ending. I lingered back to wait for things to play out.
Their exchange was brief. David didn’t look up once during it. His disinterest didn’t seem to deflate the guy’s ego, though. He still left a piece of paper under David’s cup and moved on to join what I presumed were a few friends on the dance floor.
“Not your type?” I teased as I settled onto the stool next to him. “Too good and kind for your damaged soul? Did you not want to taint him and bring him into your misery?”
David didn’t look up at my words either. But his mouth twitched, which was more animation than he’d given the guy.
“Didn’t come here looking for a type,” he said simply and signaled to the bartender for a refill. “I’m seeing someone.”
My ears perked up, shocked at this tidbit of information. David and I didn’t have conversations about what we got up to outside of our hangouts. We were always too busy trying to wound each other’s pride. I’m now considering how many blind spots we must have for each other. It was strange to know someone so well but not know them at all.
“Really? Who’s the unfortunate lad, lass, person?” Iwinced at my phrasing and the curiosity tangled with it. But it was too difficult not to wonder about his dating life. In reality, the thought of someone being with David romantically seemed impossible. Who’d lack that much self-preservation?
“Lad? Lass?” David snorted. “What are we? Bisexuals or pirates?”
“I’m not opposed to being both,” I joked.
David shook his head, smiling a bit. “You really want to know who I’m seeing?”
I scoffed. “I’m not dying for the information or anything.”
Though my breath caught a little when he looked at me.
“Good. I can’t have your death on my hands. Haven would never forgive me.” He finished his drink with no sign that he planned on answering my question. So, he was going to keep this person a secret? Fine by me.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said. Suddenly, the warmth of the building wasn’t comforting anymore. I wanted to be back out in the rain because the cold felt more welcoming than whatever was going on between us. Like David said last night, there was no word for our relationship. Tonight, that didn’t sit well with me.
“Sure, you don’t want a drink first?” David stood from his stool but didn’t move from the bar.
I slipped off my seat too. At six feet, David was a few inches taller than I was. I was used to being the tallest person in most rooms (which didn’t say much, considering five nine wasn’t exactlysupertall). Still, I found it odd to have to tilt my head to meet someone’s gaze.
Tonight, David smelled of whisky, and his eyes almost matched the color of it. The warm overhead lights were doing wonders in smoothing out his harsh features.
“I don’t drink,” I forced out in a stern tone.
