20. Blair
20
Blair
I ’ve officially been back in Evergreen Grove for exactly one week, and that can only mean one thing—Margarita Monday! However, I’m overcome by an odd sense of excitement and sadness as I walk into SalsaLeedo Sal’s. When I first arrived in town, I’d been stressed and counting down the days until I could fly home to Los Angeles. With the first week having flown by so quickly and only one week left before I have to say goodbye to Ronnie, Miles, and Ford all over again, I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of melancholy.
From my earliest memories, I’d always imagined what it would be like to escape this small town, so when it actually happened, it felt like a dream come true. Yes, it had been hard to leave Miles, Ronnie, and Ford, but it also felt needed. Distance seemed like the key to not only escaping my unfortunate reputation, but also my feelings for Ford.
The joke’s clearly on me, since even with him choosing to get hitched to someone else, my feelings have refused to fade away. Even to this day, he still feels like the one person in my life that I can’t function or live without.
Ugh, why did he have to go and ruin everything by kissing me? It would’ve been so much easier to leave all over again if I didn’t have to remember the electrifying sensation of his lips pressed against mine. Then again, if history repeats itself, this will just be another one of those teasing one-offs where I think this is finally it before it gets taken away from me and my world comes crashing down all over again.
A little dramatic? Probably. But that’s exactly how it felt to eighteen-year-old me ten years ago. So much so that I took a crazy offer from a complete stranger and his band to follow them around on tour.
One would think I’ve matured since then, but between the lingering glances and the electric sensation coursing through my body at even the slightest contact with Ford while we helped Ronnie with her wedding favors, all those vulnerable feelings came rushing back. The simple act of him passing me a jar, our fingers grazing for nothing more than a split second, sent a surge of tingling heat down my spine.
Then again, maybe this is nothing more than my body’s physical reaction to not getting laid in far too long. Whenever Max and I got back together, things were always hot and heavy for the first few weeks, as we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. While we may struggle in many aspects of our relationship, sex is not one of them. But as we each got busy, and he decided he’d rather go out, party, drink, and get high instead of spending quality time with me, it became way too easy to fall out of sync with each other, which is exactly what happened in the last few weeks leading up to our most recent break-up.
While weddings are often seen as prime opportunities for romantic encounters, the lack of suitable candidates in Ronnie’s wedding party dampens any hopes of finding a worthy hookup partner.
Then again, while Ford and I haven’t brought up the topic of those flirtatious texts on Saturday night, my thoughts have often circled back to them. Sure, it’d be nice to fuck him and get it out of my system, but part of me knows that being with Ford could never be like that. Given our history and shared feelings, I think we’ve both always known that if something were to happen, it’d be life-changing, and I’m guessing neither of us is truly ready for something that big happening right now.
Not only am I still trying to live my dream life away from Evergreen Grove, but he’s going through a divorce. It’s way too complicated, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself, especially as the temptation to be near him only intensifies.
Walking into Sal’s, I’m once again greeted by that same nostalgic scent of warm tortillas and tangy salsa. I’ve heard that it’s never a good sign when you can smell the food so strongly when you enter a restaurant, but given how amazing Sal’s is and the staple it is in the community, there’s no way I could agree with that statement.
It’s no surprise to see that Ronnie and Ford have already arrived and are both snacking on the chips and salsa as I approach. Unlike last time, though, when Ronnie and I arrived first and it had been Ford who’d been forced to choose who to sit next to, it’s now my turn to make that choice.
Back in the day, I’d been faced with the same question many times about who to sit next to, especially given my chronic lateness, but today, there’s an extra layer to all this that has me feeling oddly conflicted, almost as if this is some kind of test that I haven’t studied for. While maybe it’s not some life-changing decision, it does feel like what I decide will ultimately change the course of my life. God, I really am dramatic today.
I’m pretty sure I’m the only one overthinking this, as the right and sane answer is to choose the spot next to Ronnie. Then again, in this town, nobody would ever accuse me of being either of those things, so I go against my better judgment and slide in next to Ford, nudging his butt with mine, while also elbowing his arm. He immediately moves over, making more room on our side of the booth.
“Some things never change, I see,” Ronnie teases before crunching down on a chip. “Late as always,” she clarifies, even if I suspect the double meaning there.
“One of these days, I swear I’m going to arrive early and surprise the hell out of you,” I declare, immediately reaching for a chip myself.
“I’ll believe that only when I see it,” Ford teases, and this time it’s his turn to give my arm a playful nudge.
“Well, maybe it’s for the best,” I decide definitively as I dip my chip into the perfectly runny salsa. “If I changed, I wouldn’t be the same old Blair that you both know and love, and then where would we be? I need at least a few people in this town to like me.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Ronnie scoffs, dismissing my comment with a wave of her hand. “Do you know how many people have asked me when you were coming back into town?”
I try not to roll my eyes. “Yeah, probably so they can hide their kids and hide their husbands since the big bad Blair is coming back to town to ruin everyone’s lives.”
“No, I mean it,” Ronnie huffs, tilting her head downward. “So many people that I’ve talked to have been excited for you to come back. I also get so many people asking how you’re doing and whenever I pull out my phone and show them all the amazing pictures you’ve taken on various tours, they’re all so impressed.”
“Yeah, they’re all probably happy and impressed because I’m doing it in a whole different state, as far away from their precious little town as I can be.”
She lets out a heavy sigh, her features pinched. “You’re impossible. Tell her, Ford.”
I tilt my head and angle it upward.
My stomach immediately erupts into a fit of butterflies. Who decided it was fair for him to be this damn beautiful? Maybe that isn’t the way you’re supposed to describe a man, but it’s true. He may not have the chiseled jaw or sculpted body of a Greek god, but there’s something undeniably perfect about him. It probably helps that the light misting of facial hair has grown, giving him a more edgy look, or at least as edgy as one can be when you totally look the part of a high school science teacher. Even his glasses sit on his face in a way that accentuates his features, as if they were always meant to be a part of his appearance.
His boyish grin just tops it all off. “You’re impossible, Blair,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine. The allure of his beautiful brown eyes, accentuated by subtle hints of gold, threaten to overwhelm me as I’m tempted to stare into them all night. But I choose to maintain my composure instead, returning his smile before diverting my attention to our friend seated across from us.
“Fine. I’m impossible, but you two are delusional, so there,” I grin before sticking my tongue out at Ronnie.
Luckily, we don’t have to keep going as our server comes to take our drink orders. Learning of the special, Ronnie and I quickly celebrate by exchanging high-fives. Peach has been, and will always be, my favorite flavor. We also put in our food order, which is much needed since I’m likely to eat the entire basket of chips if my tacos don’t come out soon.
“Before the food comes, I’m going to make a quick phone call and freshen up in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few,” Ronnie says as she scoots out of the booth. “You two behave,” she playfully warns, pointing a finger in our direction.
“Us? Never,” I joke.
“Fine, Ford, you behave and keep an eye on our girl here. Apparently, everyone in town is concerned for their children and their husbands.” She winks as I roll my eyes.
“I’ll do what I can,” Ford agrees before Ronnie makes her way toward the back of the restaurant.
“You guys may think I’m joking, but as we ,” I start, pointing my finger between the two of us, “both know, I have indeed tried to steal a husband before.”
“Well, I’m hoping that was only a one-time thing, and only done because the husband you tried to steal was ridiculously handsome and good-looking.”
“Eh.” I shrug, a small grin slowly spreading across my face. “He was alright.”
“Just alright?” he asks, his eyes going wide. “I don’t know. For you to make such a big move, I have to assume he was more than just a little alright.”
“Fine. He’s maybe a little more than alright. A pretty good kisser too,” I add, diverting my attention as I casually reach for another chip and dip it into the salsa, still doing my best to act casual and brush it off, like it's not actually him we’re chatting about.
“A good kisser, huh? He sounds amazing,” he says, sitting up straight, a gloating grin playing across his features.
“Well, too bad for him it was a one—or rather, maybe a two-time thing. It’s completely over now,” I say, looking back his way as I sink my teeth into the chip.
There are definitely much sexier foods to eat than a chip, but with the way his eyes drop to my lips and darken, it clearly doesn’t matter to him.
“I don’t know about that. I have a feeling,” he says with a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “that there are going to be more than just a few kisses coming up in your future.” His eyes moving back up to meet mine.
“And what makes you so sure?” I ask, my voice lowering.
“Because if this guy is smart, and by the way you’ve described him, I assume he has to be, he’d be an idiot to let things end there.”
“I beg to differ. I think if he were smart, he’d end things now before they get too messy.”
“Maybe he doesn’t mind messy. Maybe…” he trails off, his gaze piercing into me, his hand subtly sliding under the table to rest on my thigh, “he’s tired of living up to everyone’s expectations. Maybe he’s finally ready to give in to his feelings and be with the woman who’s always made his life better and more exciting.”
I feel the heat of his touch building on my leg as his thumb brushes slow, lazy circles, but I refuse to divert my gaze; my eyes remaining focused on his. “What if it’s finally her turn to be the smart one, and it’s her turn to protect him from making a big mistake?”
“How does she know it’d be a mistake? What if this is just something that’s always been destined to happen, and it’s time for them both to stop fighting against what’s meant to be?”
I want to believe him. Part of me already does. No matter how hard I’ve tried, and despite the passage of time and physical distance, it’s done little to alleviate my feelings for him. If anything, as I sit here, our bodies yearning to close off any and all distance, it’s clear the feelings have only increased. Even now, sitting in this booth, it feels as though we’re in our own little bubble, oblivious to the bustling Mexican restaurant surrounding us with its loud and lively chatter and mariachi music blasting through the speakers.
The bubble officially pops as a voice interrupts and Ford’s hand immediately flies back into his lap. “Alright, here are the two peach margaritas, and one Dr Pepper,” our server says, setting the drinks on the table.
Fully aware of just how close the two of us are, I scoot over until I’m practically falling off the edge of the bench. “Your food should be out any minute, but in the meantime, is there anything else I can get you?” he asks, his eyes moving between the two of us, clearly unaware of the tension that’d been building between Ford and me.
“No, I think we’re good.” Ford smiles, even if it is incredibly forced.
Needing the drink, I lift my margarita and take a long sip just as Ronnie comes back into view and slides into the booth, completely oblivious to everything that just transpired during her time away.
“So what did I miss?” she asks, reaching for her drink.
“Not much,” Ford thankfully replies, and while his voice sounds steady, I can sense he too is a little off-kilter.
However, I can’t let that be a problem, especially as Ronnie animatedly discusses her wedding plans and how she just got the good news that the necklace she’d ordered and had been waiting on had just arrived at her parents’.
While I may be internally conflicted about my feelings for the man sitting next to me, I remind myself that this week is not about that. It’s about Ronnie, and even though a big part of me wants to open up to her and ask for her opinion, I can’t do that. She deserves so much more than a self-centered maid of honor. I can give her at least one full day of my attention focused on nothing but her.
With that, I do my best to shut out all thoughts of Ford and instead gush with Ronnie about how perfect her wedding is going to be—even if I secretly, or not so secretly, may also be a little worried about that too.