Chapter 7
Luke
“Who pissed in your campfire?”
I look up from the glasses I’m drying off to find Annie with her arms crossed over her chest across the bar. She’s wearing cut-off denim shorts and a red halter top that compliments the color of her lips.
The lips that were inches away from mine last night.
“That’s not a saying,” I say to her because telling her about the conversation with my dad will just open up a conversation we’re in no shape to have.
Annie knows about my history with my parents, and she knows that it doesn’t really affect me much. It’s not something I talk about because it just isn’t worth it. I learned at a young age that family isn’t always just about blood.
But, there are about a dozen conversations she and I need to have before theorizing whether or not I have daddy issues and the surprise-I-don't-want-to-be-a-lawyer - anymore conversation.
“Yes, it is,” she argues with me, her lips pouting as she sits into her hip. “Drew said one of her students used to say it.”
“So we’re trusting the judgment of sixth-graders now? ”
“Lukey-poo, that’s the same as trusting your judgment,” she replies without missing a beat, the familiar nickname always soaked with condescension.
I exhale. “Whatever you say.”
Annie sits down in front of me, the bar being mostly empty.
Lenny’s is dead for a Saturday night, most likely because of all the summer festivities happening, and it’s the worst night for it to be slow after that phone call with my dad.
I’ve been left to stir it around in my brain for hours while serving our regulars who keep asking me either when Annie is coming back or when we’re going to hire a “cute one” to replace Annie.
I am one more comment away from banging my head against the bar.
“So,” she starts, and I raise an eyebrow at her as I make her a gin and tonic. “Are you going to tell me why you look like someone kicked your puppy?”
I look up from putting a lime on the rim of her glass, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t be bringing Rosie into this,” I reply, holding back the smile threatening my lips.
She puts her hands up in mock-surrender. “Don’t get all pissy with me. I’m just trying to be nice, roomie .”
“Maybe I’m just mad that someone didn’t make their bed this morning. If we’re going to live together, you need to be less of a garbage can.”
Her eyes widen. “We need some ground rules if you think it’s okay to go into my bedroom.”
“I was just testing the waters, seeing if you put any spells to keep me out,” I explain, setting her drink down in front of her.
She shakes her head as she pulls the glass closer to her. “A witch joke? That’s just lazy, bartender.” She takes a sip, her lips wrapping around the straw as she waits for my retort, and I let out a laugh.
“Is that why you’re here? To insult me and drink for free? It must be my lucky night.” I say it as a joke, but she can sit here and throw insults at me for the rest of my shift if it means I get to spend time with her.
“Hilarious,” she deadpans.
My shoulders lighten the more we go back and forth, and I think for a second that maybe I can talk to her about how the last thing I want to do with my life is work at my dad’s law firm. Maybe I can just say the words I’m afraid to admit aloud: that I wasted all this time trying to impress a man I used to idolize and now I don’t give one single fuck about him.
But then I see the contentment on her face, so different from last night, and I take a page out of her book and decide not to make my problems hers.
Not when I’m trying to win her back.
“I assume you’re waiting for one of the girls,” I prompt.
“It’s Movie Night,” she answers, and then I remember that it’s the second Saturday of the month, and this is one of the many long-standing dates the girls implemented once we all started getting busier over the years.
“Movie Night” is the second and fourth Saturday of every month, but the guys aren’t invited to it. We get to go to the monthly dinners on the first Sunday of every month and the bi-weekly Thursday happy hours.
“Whose turn is it?” I ask, knowing that I’ll be able to predict what movie she, Drew, and Mia will be watching by whose pick it is.
Annie smirks in response .
“So, Twilight ?” I know that if it’s Annie’s choice, she’s picking her favorite Twilight movie which is the first one of the franchise.
“It’s the best one,” she replies. “Plus, we haven’t watched any of them since last month, so it’s about time for a rewatch. Might as well start at the beginning.”
“Of course,” I agree, knowing that these movies mean something to Annie, Drew, and Mia that I will never understand but can appreciate.
Annie nods before she changes the subject. “So, back to the topic of ground rules .”
I rest my forearms on the bar, leaning forward but not too close. “Rule number one: make your bed when you wake up, you slob.”
She sits back in her chair. “No. It’s a waste of time. You just mess it up again when you get back in at night.”
I shake my head, partly in disbelief that someone as smart as her thinks with that logic but also because I don’t know a single topic of conversation between us that Annie wouldn’t turn into an argument.
“Rule number two,” I continue, saving us from at least one argument tonight, “we keep each other updated on whether we’ll be home or not.” I want to add that we’ll also tell each other where we are, but I don’t want to push my luck.
“Sounds like stalker behavior to me,” she replies, taking another sip of her drink.
“It’s common courtesy, roomie ,” I correct. “It takes two seconds to send a text that says you’re leaving or that you’re on your way back.” I resist the urge to add that it also ensures I know she is safe.
“Fine, I can feed into your stalker tendencies for a month,” Annie concedes, placing an elbow on the bar and resting her chin on her hand. “But I have some rules of my own.”
“I’m all ears, honey,” I quip, the endearment falling so effortlessly off my lips, my sour mood from before she got here making me brave. There’s nothing she can say to me that can make me feel shittier than how I felt after the phone call with my father.
“Don’t call me that,” she bites back, and I can’t help but feel even braver.
“But you’re just so sweet,” I say, giving her a wink. She doesn’t realize that the more she pushes me away, the sweeter it’ll be when she finally gives in to me.
She rolls her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ears, and I can see the smallest tinge of pink on the tops of her ears.
Her voice takes a more serious tone. “I’m not home much for meals during the week while working at the shelter until my rotations start next month, so we can just plan to fend for ourselves. I’ll do my own grocery shopping, and I’ll clean up after myself in the kitchen. The bathroom and living room too.”
I can almost feel the force she’s using to push me away, always making sure she can keep people at arm’s length. “We are just coexisting in the same space. Again, I appreciate you letting me stay with you, but let’s not pretend it’ll be more than that,” she adds.
There’s a hint of vulnerability in her voice, like she’s not only reminding me of the wall she put between us, but herself too.
“And here I was thinking we would have candle-lit dinners together every night,” I tease, hoping it comes off as a joke rather than the wishful thinking it is.
In reality, a sense of disappointment washes over me as I realize that this plan of using the month to get closer to Annie is going to be even harder than I thought it would be—and I didn’t think it was going to be remotely easy in the first place.
“You wish, bartender,” she replies, taking advantage of how I’m leaning on the bar in front of her, bringing her palm to my cheek to pat it twice before finishing the last few sips of her drink.
I shake my head, not missing how she pats Rosie just like that.
“Emmett’s hired three more bartenders with me leaving at the end of summer and the baby on the way. Two of them are coming from different bars, but one will need training, so I’ll be here most nights for the next few weeks, especially if the baby comes when it's supposed to.” I push off the bar, standing to my full height and grabbing her glass to make her a fresh drink. “We’ll be on opposite schedules, so no candle-lit dinners even if I wanted to.”
Something passes over Annie’s face, but it’s gone before I can realize what it is. She shrugs her shoulders. “Fine by me,” she responds, but the nonchalance feels forced.
We don’t say anything until I set her new drink down in front of her, and I can tell by the way she watches the ice as she stirs her drink with the straw that she’s thinking about how we can sit and make rules for this arrangement of ours, but there’s no way of knowing how it’s actually going to go.
And if she’s thinking the same thing as me, it’s how she can try to avoid me all she wants, but it doesn’t change the fact that we are living under the same roof.
It won't just be coexisting.
Not if I can help it.
I have a month to make her love me again .
And if I can’t do it, at least I’ll be strides closer than I was before.
Because I’m never giving up.
I break our silence. “One more thing,” I start, wanting to prompt some sort of conversation about how if she needs to stay longer, she can.
It will take some time to get her to talk to me about how she feels about the break-in or if she’ll even want to go back to her apartment when the investigation is over, and I know staying with me won’t be her first choice for more than this month we agreed on, but I could talk to the leasing office at my complex to see if there’s something available for her.
“What? You want to implement a chore chart?” she teases, looking up at me with feigning innocence as she takes a sip of her new gin and tonic.
She’s being a total brat, and she doesn’t know what that does to me.
“Funny. Actually, I wanted to ask when you plan on putting that little blue friend of yours to use. We do share a bathroom and a wall, just want to make sure I can give you your privacy.”
As the last word leaves my mouth, Annie’s lips part, and her eyes slightly widen before they narrow on me, and I realize these words about her using her vibrator may have been the last I ever speak.
And I think I’m okay with it.
I can’t help but grin with all my teeth pulling this reaction from her. I raise an eyebrow, inviting her to answer my question, seeing if she takes the opportunity to put me back in my place.
“I honestly think I could kill you right now.” Her voice is like ice shooting directly into my veins, but there’s nothing that could put out the fire inside me that burns just for her.
“I’m fine dying if you’re the last thing I see.”