Page 45 of Meet Me Back Here

I look to Forrest, but he holds out his hand palm up, deferring to me.

“Yes, please.” I know there will be no bad choices on Chef Miguel’s menu, even if it’s changed from when I was around.

When I give Tyler the go-ahead, he’s looking at us accusatorially. I widen my eyes to tell him to mind his own beeswax, and he shrugs before turning back to the computer and putting in some food for us.

After, he takes a lap around the bar, refilling drinks, clearing plates, and flirting some more. The other bartender and barback move around the small space with him with ease. It’s almost like a ballet.

“I didn’t realize Mia didn’t come from Susan,” Forrest says.

“I mean, the outfit, the hair, the makeup, the persona… Susan did that. But I picked Mia because everyone here called me that. It was a nice memory to come back to,” I say right as chips and house-made guacamole appear before us.

“Bottoms up, you two,” Tyler says, gesturing to our untouched shots.

“To nice memories,” Forrest says before licking salt from his shot glass and tapping it against mine.

“To new memories too,” I say before I tip my head back and take my shot.

Food seems to keep on coming, slow-roasted pork tacos with grilled pineapple, elote covered in cotija cheese crumbles, veggie tostadas with an unexpected kick, smoky steak skewers, and the most delicious cucumber and crab gazpacho. And our margaritas are never empty.

As we eat, a steady stream of familiar faces come by to say hi and steal chips. Even some of back-of-house comes out to say hello, including Chef. I’m reminded how it felt like I was adopted into a family when I was here. A loud, usually inappropriate, high-strung, family. They were just what I needed.

I’m giggly from such a fun time, good food, and the margaritas Tyler has kept coming. I love how comfortable Forrest has become here too, even in just the span of one extended happy hour, joking easily with Tyler—and telling him about my swim this morning—raving about every bite of food he tries and smiling the entire time.

How could he ever worry about being boring?

Forrest’s chair and mine have inched closer over the last couple hours, and Forrest is propped up by an arm braced against the seat of my stool behind me. We’re close and touching and warm.

It feels good, right.

Dangerous in the best way.

“What are we thinking. Another round? Any more food?” Tyler’s deep voice cuts through the fog in my brain.

When I look at Forrest, I remember living out here without him. I remember countless nights, wanting nothing more than to call him. I remember crying and missing him so much it felt like my entire body would split in half from the pain.

I can’t do that again.

“No, I think it’s time to go,” I say, forcing a smile, ready to blame my sudden lethargy on the alcohol and the sun if anybody asks.

“Come visit again before you leave?” Tyler asks, concern in his eyes.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be here before the game,” I say, smiling in earnest now. Everyone around here knows which game without asking.

Forrest and I split the heavily discounted bill and leave an obnoxious tip.

As I slip off my chair, my sandal catches on the crossbar I had my feet propped on. When I stumble, Forrest slips his hands around my elbows, steadying me. I didn’t even realize he’d stood up.

My steady rock.

“Do you need training wheels too?” he asks, his cheeks flushed, this time from a good time.

And I just might.

Or I’m going to fall again. Hard.

CHAPTER TWENTY

she kissed a girl, and she liked it too