Chapter 3 #2
“A doesn’t really drink,” Levi cuts in.
“Beer’s fine.” I arch an eyebrow at my brother.
Surprise ripples over his expression but he backs down.
“Let’s get the nachos, some yam fries, wings, two pounds—” Mav starts to rattle off appetizers.
The guys all order burgers but I opt for mac and cheese. Once our server is gone, all three guys swivel to stare at the women sitting at the bar.
The women glance in our direction shamelessly. They shift on their barstools, arch their backs, and one even daringly sucks on the end of a cherry.
I watch, a little grossed out, as Levi brazenly enjoys the attention. His eyes bounce from one woman to the next. I can see his mind turning, mentally calculating their assets, adding and subtracting which combination of parts will best satisfy him tonight.
It’s repulsive.
Has he always been like this around women? Did he used to hide it around me better? Or has his newfound fame erased his common decency? My disappointment in Levi flares.
As a second woman leans over to lick the cherry her friend sucked on, I laugh.
“This is really something,” I comment, leaning back in my chair to watch the show these women are putting on. “You should’ve ordered popcorn,” I tell Mav.
He chuckles.
Levi glares at me. Then, he swears and slips from the booth. He glances at Derek. “You gonna wingman me or what?”
Derek gives me a side look before grinning and following my brother to the bar.
“Don’t feel obligated to sit here and babysit me,” I tell Mav. “I’m a big girl.”
My new roommate/friend’s eyes dart to the bar before sliding back to me. “You sure? Just real quick; there’s a girl I recognize. And this pub is kind of like our second home. No one bothers us here, but everyone knows this is where we chill.”
I gesture toward the bar. “Have at it.”
Mav leaves too and I’m left alone, watching as women practically fall at the feet of the band members.
Is it always like this? Is that why Jameson ditched hanging to go home to his girlfriend?
I look around the nondescript, worn-in pub.
Can Levi and the guys go anywhere anymore?
Or is this—the women, the attention, the alluring temptation—their new normal?
Within minutes, a leggy brunette has a palm planted on Derek’s abs.
She laughs at something he says which is mind-boggling because I don’t think he possesses a sense of humor.
I stare at them, practically squinting to clock every second of their exchange.
Derek places his hand on top of hers, trapping it against his hard body.
The server drops off the pitcher and glasses.
I pour myself a beer. Take two large gulps.
The brunette nuzzles closer, and Derek lets her. As he says something to Levi over her shoulder, she kisses up his neck, nibbling on the underside of his jaw. He barely reacts, other than to stretch his neck and give her more room to play.
A flare of pain shoots through me. What did I think was going to happen? There’s nothing between me and Derek. There never was. The fantasies I’ve harbored all these years were nothing more than girlish ruminations.
The server appears again with nachos and yam fries. She doesn’t spare me a second glance.
Derek’s eyes find mine as the brunette wraps her arms around him, palming his ass and kissing the corner of his mouth. He smirks. His eyes glint with a challenge.
Ugh. I look away, blinking back the irrational tears mixed with anger that prick the corners of my eyes. This is stupid. I’m not going to sit here, all alone, and let the guys have all the fun.
I stuff a nacho in my mouth before swiping up my beer and relocating to the other side of the bar. The side with clusters of men, watching a European soccer match on a television screen over the bar.
I can get behind a soccer game. Especially a match between Madrid and Barcelona. Taking an empty barstool, I sip my beer. “Uff, El Clásico, huh?”
The guy beside me turns. His lip is curled but when he sees me, he chuckles. “It’s gonna be intense.” He leans casually against the ledge of the bar. And he’s hot. Blond hair, longer on top. Blue eyes. A dimple in his right cheek.
“Always,” I agree. The rivalry between Barcelona and Real Madrid dates back over one-hundred-twenty years.
“Who are you rooting for?” he asks, a glint to his eyes.
I scoff. “Real Madrid. Of course.”
He groans and places a hand over his chest. “You’re breaking my heart.”
I arch an eyebrow. “That’s all it took?”
Two of his friends laugh, chiming in to rib him. They move closer, forming a little huddle around my barstool. We talk smack and joke around throughout the first period.
Barcelona scores and a cheer rings out, even as I drop my face into my hand and groan.
“Come on, Allegra.” The guy named Tim places a hand in the center of my back. “Take a shot with us.” He leans forward to flag down the bartender.
Tequila shots are ordered, and I gratefully accept the one pressed into my hand. “Just one,” I warn. My call with Genevieve is on my mind and I don’t want to mess that up because I was drinking with a bunch of soccer fans I’ll never see again.
“To Barcelona.” Tim holds up his glass.
I roll my eyes and take the shot, grinning as the strong alcohol burns a trail down my throat.
“I don’t get it,” Tim’s friend comments, shaking his head. “What idiot left a beautiful woman like you all alone in a pub?”
I take a swig of my beer and look up mid-swallow to see Derek’s livid expression.
I choke on my beer as Derek cuts through the huddle. Tim’s friend pats my back as I cough into my fist.
“She’s not alone. She’s with me,” Derek bites out, smacking a hand across his chest. It’s not violent, per se, but it certainly speaks to a short fuse.
Tim puffs out his chest, annoyed, until he realizes who Derek is. Then his expression falls, and he narrows his eyes at me. His friend jerks his hand away from my back.
My choking under control, I clear my throat, and take a sip of beer.
“We were just—” Tim starts.
“Leaving,” Derek’s voice cuts in.
He steps in front of my barstool, cutting off my connection with Tim. He plants one hand in the center of the bar and squares off with my soccer-loving friends. “You, not her,” he clarifies.
Tim’s expression pales as he gestures to the other side of the bar. “Man, we had no idea. Derek Reiner. Jesus, I’m a big fan. I—” He pauses to give me dirty look. What the hell is that supposed to mean? “I’m sorry.” Tim hurries away, his two friends right behind him.
“Pussy,” Derek mutters before glaring at me. “I thought you understood the rules.”
My eyebrows nearly fly off my forehead. “The rules?”
Derek’s mouth thins. He shifts his weight and the skull on the back of his hand winks. “About men.”
I snort, incredulous laughter bubbling from my mouth. “Are you kidding me? I wasn’t going to bring him home. Remember? If anything, I would have—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he cuts me off, his eyes glinting. Derek tilts his head, considering me. “This is going to be a long summer, Stellina.”
I breathe in sharply as he casually drops the nickname he gave me years ago. After ignoring me in the studio, to serving me a riddle in the car, to running off the nice guys who chatted with me after he and the band bounced, I’m more than confused. I’m annoyed. And exhausted.
“If this is going to be a problem for you”—I gesture between us—“I’ll find another place to crash.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You haven’t said much of anything that makes any damn sense,” I snap back, losing my cool.
Frustration flares over Derek’s expression. The brunette with the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen reappears at his side. She slips her hand in his. “You coming?” she purrs as she tugs him toward the dark corridor we arrived through.
Derek gives me one last look, one filled with conflicting emotions and absolutely no shame. No remorse or regret. Just an edge of that barely concealed anger. He shakes his head once before following the brunette.
I polish off my beer and call it a night.
With women taking body shots off Mav’s abs, Levi lost in conversation, and Derek probably fucking the brunette in a bathroom stall, or worse, having gone home with her, I’m drained.
I toss my last twenty-dollar bill on the table with plates of untouched food, and slip from the pub. Pulling up Google maps, I walk back to the brownstone, beyond grateful it’s nearby and Mav shared the lock code with me earlier.
Once I’m inside, I change into a blouse and pull up my hair. I set up my laptop in the kitchen and jot down some notes.
When the Zoom call comes through, I’m ready.
“Hi, Allegra. I’m Genevieve Yaeger, but please, call me Vivi.”
“Great to meet you, Vivi. Thanks for connecting with me.” I smile at the gorgeous blonde on screen.
She waves a hand. “The Byrne Family have been huge supporters of Maybelle’s House and I know Mckenna is considering a career in law. She says you’re very passionate about social justice initiatives.”
“I am. I just arrived in Boston and hope to gain some hands-on experience this summer, interning with an NGO or doing outreach and advocacy work…” I explain my hopes for the summer. Vivi listens attentively, only interrupting to ask a thoughtful question.
By the time we wrap up our conversation, I’m buzzing with excitement. I knew coming to Boston was the right decision. But with Vivi’s generous offer to connect me to other like-minded peers and introduce me to various programs happening in the city, it feels more tangible. Solid.
My issues with Levi, my frustrations with Derek, fade into the background. I miss my brother and I’ve never stopped thinking about Derek and that kiss. But I’m here for me and my future.
No one is going to distract me from my goal.
Not even an infuriating rockstar with whiskey eyes and a devilish smirk.