It’s been about a month since I’ve gone to Blue Pint Outpost. It’s not like I’ve purposefully avoided where Angela works after I kissed her in the parking lot. Yes, I kicked myself for doing that. She looked so sad, and I know that’s not a reason to kiss someone without permission. But since going to that TapHouse—even with our minimal interactions, I’ve rethought over every moment that our family’s spent together. In the recesses of my mind, I’ve been lumping her in with her brother and assuming she’s capable of the same rash decision, but that’s not her. At least, I don’t think it’s her.
I head to my car that’s in the parking garage and make the short drive over to the TapHouse. My whole routine has been blown to smithereens since seeing her and I have no one to blame but myself. I could have just stayed away. But in the small amount of time I’ve been in her space, I’ve noticed there's something about Angela that makes you want to be near her. So here I am. Parking in the lot where I kissed her a month ago and headed inside.
It’s clear this place has days when it’s more crowded, but I’ve lucked out on the two days I’ve come here to not find it so busy. I see the head of blonde hair that’s been a fixture in my brain for the last month and head toward the bar. I take a seat on the opposite end and wait for my turn. When she’s finished taking care of a customer, she pauses when she seesme. It’s been a month, but she looks different. Maybe it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone who sees her every day, but I notice everything. The sadness that was laying over her like a cloak the first time I saw her isn’t as present. She looks almost—happier.
“Hi,” she greets and places a cocktail napkin in front of me. “What can I get you?”
“Hi. Um, I’ll take a water and a pale ale, please.” I watch her float to the other end as she finds the spot with the beer I ordered. Angela does her job with ease. It’s a far cry from when I came out with the guys.
“Here you go,” she says as she sets my beer and water down.
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
Angela pauses what she’s doing and looks up at me in surprise. “For what?”
Looking around, I make sure no one is within earshot. “For kissing you. I shouldn’t have done that without your permission. And I’m sorry.”
“Oh, that.” I watch in amazement as her cheeks pinken. “Apology accepted.”
We silently stare at one another. Baby blue eyes to hazel ones. I’ve never looked at Angela without anything more than recognizing her as my brother’s best friend’s much younger sister, or the girl of the brother who took my brother’s life. Maybe it’s finally three times the charm that has me looking at her as something else. As a person and not anything else.
Someone clears their throat, breaking whatever staredown we were having, and Angela moves off to help other customers. I look down into the foam of my beer and berate myself for whatever thoughts are floating through my head. Realizing I don’t want to leave anytime soon, I pull out myphone and scroll through some of the apps I tend to let collect dust.
“Do you want a refill?” a voice I’m beginning to crave the sound of asks and interrupts my scrolling.
Popping my head up off my closed fist, I look around and note that it’s gotten darker and I wonder to myself how long I was on my phone.
Shaking my head, I finish what’s left in my glass. “Just the check.”
Nodding, she takes my empty glass and water cup before heading to the register. I watch her talk with a woman who’s probably around my age. Her eyes flicker up to me before coming back to Angela and I’m curious enough to want to know what exactly they’re talking about. I see a shake of Angela’s head before she heads back to me.
“Here you go.”
I give her a close-lipped smile before she’s off to the next customers. I’m not in a position to ask her when she’s off. So I look at how much I owe, throw some cash down that more than covers my beer and the tip, and head out to my car without a word.
I pocketmy phone when I hear the gravel crunch under steps, signaling someone walking toward me.
“You left an hour ago,” Angela states like I don’t know that I’ve pathetically been leaning up against her car and waiting for her.
My head turns toward her and I notice she holds the same, sure bravado that she held in the TapHouse out here. Angela is beautiful. Even more so in this light and away from the noise of her place of work. It was easier not toacknowledge her beauty the first time I stepped into the TapHouse, but now, with the anger and hurt no longer driving me, I can see her beauty clear as day. From her blonde hair with tendrils flying around her face, to the bag she holds onto like it’s a comfort blanket, and to the all black attire that fits her persona—or at least, I think fits her persona.
“I know.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly.
“Well, could you figure it out somewhere else? I’d like to go home.” She makes a move toward the door handle that I’m blocking and huffs out a disbelievable laugh. “Unbelievable. The first time you saw me, you looked like you wanted to kill me. The next time, I don’t even—Brandon, what are you doing here?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat and watch in amusement as her eyebrows raise to her hairline.
“Wow, your vocabulary is immaculate,” she murmurs and then glares at me. “Well, if you’d like to keep figuring it out here, I’d like to take your car so I can go home.” She holds her hand out impatiently, waiting for me to give her something—my keys most likely. But I just stare at her hand. Her fingers are slim and long, likely from years of playing the piano. I’m also wondering how soft they are.
“I can’t stop thinking about that kiss,” I admit and watch as she retracts her hand like I burned her.
“That can’t happen again,” Angie says in the most monotonous tone.
“Why not?” I ask, finally looking up at her and taking a small step toward her.
