Two blueberry margaritas, seventy-nine dollars in purchases for crap we don’t need from the specialty shops, a spicy beef salad, and a shared peach cobbler with two glasses of pinot Grigio for her and pomegranate lemonade for me, and Angela is smiling like the carefree, up-for-anything girl I fell in love with. Worth every penny. She holds my hand as we walk down the street and leans into my shoulder. “Thanks, babe. This was exactly what I needed.”
“Good. I’m glad. I had fun too.” I would have preferred staying in, ordering takeout from Hawkins, and watching a movie since I have an early morning tomorrow and my pre-season game in a Riptide uniform, but I’m also relieved this worked. And the food was amazing, Grady got it right.
We walk down the cobblestone street with the seaport on one side and stores on the other. The night is cool but comfortable. The streets aren’t too busy because it’s a weekday. We’re a little over a block from the lot where I parked when we both hear the music. It’s live, acoustic, and I don’t recognize the tune, but it’s got a country twang to it, which is Angie’s favorite.
Her step falters, and she tugs on my arm. “Where is that coming from? It’s good.”
I want to get home and go over some old game footage on YouTube of the Riptide, particularly their last playoff run. I’m tired too. My energy isn’t what it was pre-cancer, not that I will ever admit that to anyone. Ever. And I think I promised her sex tonight, so I have to get that in too.
“One of the bars.” I shrug, but Angie ignores me. She’s following her ear, which leads her to a place with a brick front and a wood door painted a glossy navy blue, which is cracked open. She smiles at the bouncer leaning against the frame. “You have live music?”
He gives her a brief smile and points to the sign in the glass and brass case bolted to the wall by the door. Her eyes light up, and she looks over at me with the eagerness of a child at Christmas. “Landon… They sound so good, and when was the last time we went out to see a band?” Umm… before I got cancer and became immune-compromised for almost a year. “Remember how much fun we would have at live music events? I would dance and you would… think it was so hot.”
She whispers that last part, leaning into me on the sidewalk, but my eyes still dart to the bouncer. If he heard, he doesn’t show it. He’s busy scrolling through his phone. The band rips into a new song, and Angie bounces on the balls of her feet. I can’t say no, especially if this is the thing that sells her on giving Maine a shot.
I nod, and she laces her fingers through mine with a squeal. With my free hand, I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and walk up to the bouncer. After I pay the twenty-dollar cover charge to get in, he tells me the band is on the back patio.
We make our way through the dark, friendly-looking bar and emerge onto an enclosed courtyard, with all sides of the brick buildings surrounding it acting like walls. The ground is all loose gravel, and there’s outdoor furniture—couches and armchairs and umbrellas for sunny days, but with a canopy of fairy lights for evenings like this. There are also a few two-seater high-tops peppered around the back. I kind of want to head to an empty one in the corner, but Angie guides me to an empty wicker loveseat at the edge of the stage.
She plops down first and pulls me down by our joined hands. The waitress is on top of us in seconds, and I order a non-alcoholic beer while she orders a drink called a Beach Bum, which is made with Malibu rum, pineapple juice, and mango liqueur, according to the server. I don’t say anything, but internally I’m worried Angie is going to get too drunk. Too drunk, Angie is a lot. She’s loud, her emotions swing quickly, and she gets horny. I’m not against fucking my girlfriend, but I really need to get a decent night’s sleep tonight, and with Grady in the house too, it might get awkward. Drunk Angie is loud during sex. Super loud.
I scan the patio area as Angie dances in her seat next to me, smiling brightly. She’s happy, I remind myself. That was the whole point of tonight. So it will be worth it when I’m exhausted tomorrow. My gaze moves from the small group of girls swaying by the barely elevated stage o scan the area. The place is mostly men. Guys of all ages line the outdoor bar. Younger guys who dress like frat boys are playing corn hole in the far corner, and two men in their mid-forties are at a high-top. One has his hand resting on top of the other’s. A date?
I move on from them and note three guys at another table and two more leaning against the wall, one tapping his foot to the music. Then something familiar snags my vision. Something that glints auburn in the fairy lights and is tall and sculpted.
Grady Garrison is tucked into the corner of the outdoor space, sitting on a swing attached to a metal arm that sticks to the side of the brick wall, like a sign used to hang from it, and now it’s ropes and a plank of wood, with Grady Garrison’s muscled ass on it.
He’s wearing an olive green shirt unbuttoned at the neck with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of rumpled cotton pants in a tan color. On his feet are brown leather boat shoes, no socks. He looks casual and sexy. I guess that’s a weird thought to have about a teammate, but it springs into my head before I even register that it’s Grady. Oops?
He must feel me staring because he tilts his chin after he takes a sip from his pint of beer, and his eyes slide my way. They flare in surprise, and I give a quick smile but look away. Angie notices nothing because she’s focused on the band. The server appears and plops the drinks on the small wicker table in front of us. She pulls out the bill, and I quickly dig a credit card out of my wallet and drop it on the plastic tray. “Can we run a tab?”
She nods and walks away as I turn to Angie. In my peripheral I see Grady rise off the swing. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
Angie nods. I kiss her cheek and get up, knowing she’ll stay entertained by the band and her beverage. I scoot behind our couch and stride over to Grady. He’s standing in front of the swing and looks confused. Tentative. Still hot though, I think, and internally chastise myself.
“Hey.”
“I didn’t know you’d be coming here,” he says quickly, his voice low even though I’m sure Angie can’t hear us. “I don’t want to crash your date or anything.”
I shake my head and stare up at him. The fairy lights make the lighter flecks in his eyes dance. “It was an unscheduled stop. Angie liked what she heard of the band. Who are you here with?”
“No one.” He gives a little shrug. “I know the band. The lead singer is from my hometown, and he texted me about the gig, so I figured I’d support them.”
I nod. “Cool. Then I guess we’re crashing your night. Sorry.”
“You’re always welcome on my nights out, or in,” Grady says, and my eyes flip up to his. It sounded… weird. He must know it because even in the dim light, I see his cheeks flush. “I mean, we’re roommates and teammates. I would have invited you both, but you had other plans. And this… I wasn’t sure this would be your scene.”
I smile. “Are you kidding? Angie loves live music.”
“Yeah, but I mean… this place.” Grady shrugs again, and I smile.
“Is it a gay bar?” I ask, lowering my voice. That automatically makes my question sound like I’m horrified, so I keep talking. “I mean, there are a lot of guys here, so I just assumed, but I’ve never been to one, so I didn’t know for sure. I mean, it’s great if it is, or if it isn’t. Whatever.”
Grady lets the silence hang between us just long enough for my word vomit to start to stink, and then he grins. “Yeah. It’s a gay bar.”
“Cool. You thought I would mind?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know.”
