Fletcher leads me to the back corner, where they have reserved a few booths and tables for us. I sit across from Calvin’s younger sister, Grace.
“What do you want to drink, Lydia?” Fletcher asks.
“Water is fine.” I pour a glass from the pitcher in the middle of the table.
“You can have one drink, Lydi.”
I scoff. “I know, but I already had one at the game, so I’m good. Water is fine.” I take a drink to reiterate my point.
Fletcher raises one of his eyebrows. I’m sure he suspects my lie about having a drink at the game.
“Are you feeling okay?” He sits beside me, resting his hand on my forehead. “We can go home if you need to.”
“I’m fine.” I shrug his hand off and laugh awkwardly. “I don’t need a drink every time we go out.”
“I know,” Fletcher replies defensively. “You love the seltzers here, so it’s weird for you not to at least have one.” He holds my gaze.
It’s annoying how easily he can see right through me, and his sincerity makes me want to cry. He’s such a good friend.
“I promise I’m good, Fletch.”
“Alright. If you change your mind, just give me a shout.”
“I will.”
He gets up and heads to the bar, leaving Grace and me alone.
“He’s right, you know,” Grace says with a laugh. “You love their seltzer.”
Groaning, I take another drink of water. It feels good against the sudden dryness in my throat. “I do.”
“So, why not have a drink?”
“It’s a long story.”
Grace nods. She may be one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. She knows when to push and when to hold back. Tonight is definitely a night to hold back, and she’s taken the hint with ease.
“Thank you,” I breathe, wiping my curls from my face.
“You know where to find me if you ever need to talk, but I’m not going to force it out of you.”
“I appreciate you,” I say just as Calvin drops into the seat next to her.
“Where’s Zoey?” he asks, glancing around.
“Vincent works in the morning, so they went home.” Grace sips her drink.
I’ve been around Calvin and his family and friends long enough to know that none of them like Zoey’s fiancé, Vincent. As long as Zoey is happy, they’ve promised not to intervene.
Calvin hums something under his breath.
Grace shoves him. “She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”
“I know that,” he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose.
She huffs. “Sometimes I think you forget that we aren’t kids anymore.”
Before they can continue the conversation, Fletcher drops into the seat beside me, setting his large beer onto the table.
