Chapter 7
7
“ A re you fucking kidding me?” Rachel squeals as I get closer to the table. “How is anyone going to top that photo?”
“I hope my secret admirer finds it as interesting,” I huff, taking another scan around the room.
“Screw your secret admirer!” Emily pounds the table. Rachel and I both look at her, stunned by her force. “Sarah! Do you not see that shirtless man that just went above and beyond for you and only you?”
“Aaron?” I sigh, looking back over at him doing a simple arm-around-the-shoulder pose with a growing line of women.
“Why not Aaron?” Emily presses, then continues, “He’s single. He’s classy. Each night at this bar, women are begging to spend one night with him, and he always says no.”
“He’s too small town.”
“And we aren’t?” Rachel points at herself and Emily. I bite my lip, considering that. She has a point there. All of the grievances I would have against never leaving your small town would apply to both of them, yet I love them so much. They’re my best friends.
“Fine. Do you want me to get his number? I’ll do that.”
“It’s not about what we want. What do you want?” Emily asks.
What a simple yet loaded question that is. I don’t want to be lonely. I want a guy to snuggle on the couch with. A guy who brings me coffee while I’m consumed by my latest art project. Someone to spend my evenings with. Someone who is passionate about something, who is sure of themself.
What do I really know about Aaron? Nothing that isn’t evident right now—that he’s a bartender at High Five and shockingly buff.
Fine , I decide internally.
“I’m going to be my own damn Cupid!” I get up from the table and make my way to his line of women. Standing in it, I start to reconsider, but watching him generically pose with woman after woman, I feel more special about the pose we did. He has to have a little crush on me, right? Why else would he do that?
“Coming back for seconds?” He raises an eyebrow, and I exhale loudly.
“I have a secret message for Cupid,” I whisper, putting my hand next to my lips for effect.
He leans down, and I whisper in his ear, “Roses are red, violets are blue—” His laugh catches me off guard. I almost give up this wild idea but press on. “Give me your number so I can flirt with you.”