I grabbed the back of my neck self-consciously.
“Yeah, okay,” I mumbled. “I’d like to get it for my friend.”
She hummed in acknowledgement and produced the ring from behind the makeshift counter. She placed the ring box in a small gift bag and rang up the sale.
“You were that confident I’d be back?” I asked on an embarrassed laugh.
“That hopeful,” she corrected. “You’re friends, but you’re also more. It’s easier to see from the outside.”
“I don’t know. Her friendship has been the most important of my life. I don’t want to risk it and screw everything up.”
“But what if you miss out on the best thing in your life?”
Her words stuck with me the whole walk home, the ring burning a hole in my pocket. I waved to her dad across the street with his friends. Later, I spotted her mom at a batik display set up near the bakery.
It’s salesmanship, I told myself. She probably has a slew of them and sells more if she adds a mysterious element to it. Hell, I bought a ring for a girl who’s not mine, so it’s obviously effective.
After I got home, I tried to get into my latest book and couldn’t focus. Miss Priss wanted to cuddle, but I was too restless to sit still long. Bore, I made a sandwich and refrigerated it for tomorrow since I was full.
Finally, I gave up and headed to the Tavern. I was shocked at how busy it was. I debated going home since I was peopled out, but more hours of empty silence didn’t appeal, either.
A wall of noise greeted me when I went inside. Half the town was here as well as the festival-goers. I fought my way towards the nearest bartender, who I didn’t know. I placed my order and waited.
“Howdy, stranger.”
I steeled myself to be polite. The woman was familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Frankly, I didn’t care. I wanted to nurse my beer alone until it was time to leave.
“I’m Shayla, Dani’s lawyer. We met the other day.”
I nodded at the reminder.
“Not very talkative, are you?” she asked.
“Nope.”
She tossed back her hair and laughed. Numerous heads turned towards the sound, but I sought my favorite little pixie. I couldn’t see her through the crowd.
“Dani’s working the other end of the bar,” she said helpfully.
“Thanks.”
“This doesn’t seem like your scene,” she said after I accepted my beer.
“It’s not.”
“Yet here you are,” she prodded.
I wasn’t ready to admit the reason I was here, so I took another sip of my beer. Maybe I should have ordered two since there were still several hours until closing.
“Don’t tell me you’re a closet open-mic fan.”
I grimaced.
“Ben is pretty good though not quite as good as he thinks,” she observed. “There was some spoken word poetry that wasn’t my thing earlier.”
“Listen, Shalya, you seem like a lovely person—”
“Ouch.”
