2. Blair
2
Blair
A s Miles dropped me off at SalsaLeedo Sal’s, it was obvious he was still annoyed with my bailing on him, but luckily all seemed to be forgiven once I suggested lunch tomorrow at his mechanic shop. Plus, it’s not like I’m not planning to stay with him at his apartment for the duration of my visit. There will be plenty of brother-sister bonding time to be had in the next two weeks.
As much as I love my older brother, there are times when a girl craves and needs the advice of her absolute best friend in the entire world. I completely understand why Miles worries and why he despises Max, but it’s just different with Ronnie. Sure, she dislikes my on-and-off again fling as well, but at least she can relate and empathize with the difficulties and knows firsthand what it’s like to be a woman dating in this modern world.
I love Miles, but he doesn’t get it. He can be a grumpy and brooding asshole, and women still flock to him, regardless. It’s different for us ladies, and if there’s ever someone I can vent or complain to without the fear of judgment, it’s Ronnie. The girl knows how to give it to me straight without making me feel worse about myself or my situation.
That’s precisely why girl time and margaritas are the much-needed distraction I crave tonight. Despite the limited options for great cuisine in Evergreen Grove, Sal’s restaurant delivers some pretty damn good Mexican food, which is quite impressive for a small town such as this. My love for this place only grew after turning twenty-one, as it fully allowed me to take part in the grand tradition of Margarita Mondays.
As a kid or teenager, it was common knowledge to steer clear of this place on Mondays because of the infamous and unbearably long wait. The adults of Evergreen found it impossible to resist the temptation of the town’s worst-kept secret of cheap margaritas. Sure, the chips and salsa are tasty, and the tacos are top-notch, but it’s the drinks that keep this place in business.
The moment I step inside, the irresistible aroma of warm tortillas greets me, mingling with the energetic rhythm of mariachi music playing from the speakers. Despite it being a few years since my last visit, the vibrant purple, red, green, and orange decor immediately transports me back in time. Nothing has changed, not even the familiar voice calling my name.
Sitting in our favorite booth, my absolute best friend catches my eye as she pushes her way out and barrels toward me. I do the same, meeting her halfway, enveloping her petite frame in a bear hug, immediately feeling the surge of comfort and security that only she can provide. Given that we’re both short, me at five foot two, and her at five foot three, as we pull away, we’re standing practically eye to eye as our grins mirror one another.
That is where the physical similarities between the two of us end. While I have long, golden blonde hair that drapes down to the middle of my back, Ronnie’s chic and stylish short brown hair falls just an inch above her shoulders. “Wow, this is new,” I compliment, letting my fingers lightly comb through the ends of her short locks.
“What do you think?” she asks, wrinkling her nose as she swishes it from side to side. “It was Pete’s idea. He thought it’d make me look more professional and help people take me more seriously.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I assure her, reaching for her hand as I lead her back toward our booth. “But for the record, you don’t need to change anything about yourself or your appearance to present yourself in any particular way. You’re perfect and always have been. Plus, screw looking professional. You don’t need to look like anyone other than yourself.”
While I never found it hard to set myself apart in this small town, one thing the two of us have always prided ourselves on was the fact that we didn’t stick to the status quo. We did our own thing, and even though it only added to the gossip about me and my family, being true to ourselves was always the top priority—or at least I’d always assumed so.
“Said like a true best friend,” she says through a small laugh, as we both slide into our usual seats.
While she thankfully made a few trips to visit me this past summer as I toured with Heartstrings Riot, it definitely wasn’t enough. However, like usual, the familiar warmth and ease of our connection takes over, making it feel as though no time has passed at all.
Growing up, there had been plenty of people who didn’t understand our friendship or connection. While Ronnie is sunlight personified, with the demeanor of a real-life Disney princess, I’m essentially Wednesday Addams, exuding the aura of a rainy day. In so many ways, that’s exactly why I think we work so well. We balance each other out. She’s the peanut butter to my jelly, the moon to my night sky.
Even when it comes to our styles, we couldn’t be more different. I stick to darker colors and black clothing with a more edgy and rebellious style. My closet consists mainly of various band T-shirts and raw distressed jeans. If I had to categorize it, I’d say I prefer to be bold, yet also very laid back.
Ronnie’s style, on the other hand, is vibrant, girly, and playful, with a fearless approach to color. She’s constantly mixing and matching bold and bright hues with different patterns and isn’t afraid to try something new. She also tends to wear a lot of skirts and dresses that are not only sweet and playful, but fun and flirty, with elaborate prints, lace trimmings, and ruffles. While a lot of people see me as unapproachable, everyone constantly seeks out Ronnie’s attention, yet somehow mine is always the most important to her.
Then again, it’s crazy to think about where our lives have gone and how much has changed since we were kids, especially with her having a huge rock on her finger, only days away from getting married.
“Well, what are best friends for if not telling the truth?” I ask before holding my hand out and wiggling my fingers, gesturing for her to give me her hand. “Now let me see that ring of yours in person.”
After using a month of her summer break to tour with me, she’d returned home to a surprise. Her then boyfriend, Pete, proposed the day after her arrival. Apparently, he’d said that the time apart made him realize just how much he loved her and how he never wanted to be apart from her again. With that, he’d gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him in front of their friends and family. As sad as I was to miss it and bummed that Pete hadn’t even thought to invite me, I’d like to think it was a blessing in disguise, since it gave me even more reason to avoid coming home until now.
Pete is a couple of years older than us, so I’d never paid him much attention growing up, and honestly, had never really felt like I had a reason to. Sure, he’d been on student council and was known for his loud and charming ways, but I’d been perfectly content with my small, tight-knit group of friends.
Following my lead, Ronnie sheepishly offers her hand, allowing it to settle in my palm.
“Wow!” I exclaim. The pictures don’t do this thing justice at all. I knew that it was big and shiny, but I’m practically blinded by the sight of it—this ring exudes pure opulence. “Do you love it?” I ask, my eyes moving to meet hers from across the table.
“Yeah.” She shrugs, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face as she hastily retracts her hand, letting it fall underneath the table and out of sight.
“Yeah? That’s all you have to say?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowing as I reach for one of the chips and dip it into the salsa. When I imagined the ring that would sit on my best friend’s hand, I had always pictured something fun and unique—just like her. While the size alone gives this the upper hand on being different, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly special about it. It’s just a giant diamond surrounded by a few other ginormous diamonds.
“It isn’t what I personally would’ve picked, but Pete was so excited, and he loves it, so I love it too.” She shrugs, also reaching for a chip, seeming to grab it purposely with her other hand.
Unfortunately, I know my friend better than almost anyone. She’s far from being honest here. However, I’m not going to make anything about her special day uncomfortable, so I keep my mouth shut—which, for someone like me, is extremely difficult.
Luckily, I don’t have to worry about it as the middle-aged waitress comes to take our order, saving us from any ensuing awkwardness. We both order tonight’s special blackberry margarita, and their signature three-taco plates.
“Since we have the next week and a half to discuss wedding stuff, let’s change the subject and talk about you,” Ronnie suggests before chomping into her chip. She’s not fooling anyone here, let alone me, but since she’s the bride-to-be, I let her have this one.
“Well, what about me do you want to talk about?” I ask before taking a bite of my salsa-covered chip. Although, I suspect I already know the answer. Max had promised to be my date for Ronnie’s wedding, and given that he isn’t here, I’m pretty sure she gets it without either of us having to say it out loud—Max and I are on yet another break.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that,” she assures me, a mischievous glint in her eye, reminding me once again of our uncanny connection.
“Unfortunately, I think I do,” I sigh.
“Well, in that case, what happened this time? And please don’t tell me he cheated again,” she pleads.
I shake my head. “No, nothing like that,” I assure her, just as two drinks are placed in front of us. With the tense topics that have already been brought up, it’s no surprise that both of us immediately dive in and take some much-needed sips.
“God, that is good,” Ronnie hums as I nod my head and close my eyes while I fully take it in.
Given that this is a tiny town, and even more, I’ve been all over the world and had some of the best and most unique drinks out there, I’ve yet to find anything that competes with the heavenly taste of a margarita from Sal’s. It might just be the fact that I’m home and sitting with my best friend, but even with the conversation being what it is, this moment feels perfect.
“It really is,” I agree, savoring another sip, the blackberry infusing a delightful tang and kick.
“While the drink may be good, don’t go thinking I forgot about what we were talking about. Spill it, missy.”
I let out a frustrated breath of air. While I’m not annoyed at Ronnie, it sucks that I’m having to deal with this, especially during what should be a fun and easygoing week. “It’s the usual,” I sigh, waving it off as I try not to make it into some huge thing. “He’s too busy, and despite promising to come with me and taking time off, he’s convinced that he needs to work on new music since the guys are supposed to be heading back into the studio in a few weeks.”
“Oh, so this isn’t a true break, then? He just didn’t come?” she asks, leaning down as she wraps her lips around her straw once more.
“Oh, no. It’s definitely a break,” I assure her as I let out a less than amused laugh. “I told him that if he didn’t have the time to come with me to my best friend’s wedding, then he didn’t have time to be my boyfriend, either.”
“Damn, girl!” she giggles, nodding her head in approval. “I obviously hate that you’re sad and upset, but I love that you’re standing up for yourself. I mean, come on, what piece of shit lets their girlfriend go to their best friend’s wedding all alone and dateless? Doesn’t he know that a single maid of honor is going to be a hot commodity and that all the groomsmen are going to be fighting over who gets the honor to hook up with you?”
“No offense, but I don’t picture myself being into any of Pete’s friends.” I shiver before letting out a soft laugh as I lift my glass to take another sip, realizing that I’ve already drunk almost half my margarita. Sure, from what I can remember, Pete had some cute friends back in high school, but pretty boys that exude frat guy energy aren’t exactly my type.
“Well, what about a hot bridesman?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows in my direction.
“What the fuck is a bridesman?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“Ford. He obviously has to be in my line, so that’s going to be his honorary title from here on out,” she explains, as if it’s all so obvious.
“Yeah, married men aren’t exactly my thing either,” I point out, not sure why she’s bringing him up, given all of our history. Obviously, she knew of my feelings for him all throughout our teenage years, but I’m not that desperate, even if it would be a nice way to stick it to Max.
Wrinkling her nose, Ronnie softly chews on her bottom lip. “I actually probably shouldn’t say anything, since I know Ford wanted to keep it on the down low, but you know me,” she says, waving it off, “I’ve never been able to keep anything from you.” She hesitates but finally gives in and spills. “But, uh, he and Jenny are officially separated and going through a divorce.”
My mouth gapes open. I’m not sure what I’d been expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“You won’t say anything though, right? I sort of think he wanted to be the one to tell you, but you know how I get when I drink.” She sheepishly winces, even if I can sense the relief she feels at finally being able to drop that big of a bomb on me. She’s right, we don’t keep secrets from each other, but in this case, I’m still debating whether this is news I wanted to hear or not.
“Ronnie, you haven’t even had a full margarita. I don’t think you get to blame this one on the alcohol,” I remind her, nodding toward her glass that is still over halfway full. “But uh, wow. I’m not sure what to say to that.”
I’ve never exactly been the biggest fan of Ford and Jenny as a couple, and every time I saw them together, I was plagued with an embarrassing amount of jealousy. However, this is the last thing I’d ever want to happen to one of my good friends. Given that he was the third member of our best friend trio growing up, I’d always wanted him to be happy. While it’s taken some time for me to be this mature about it all, I’d reluctantly realized that even if his happiness didn’t include me, if that was what it took, then the two of them should be together.
Okay, I’ll admit it, at least to myself . His being single does capture my attention, but considering how recent this all is, I don’t see anything happening between us, and I don’t want it to either . I have way more respect for myself than that—or at least I hope so. I’m not about to be someone’s rebound girl, especially not Ford’s. I have way too much experience feeling like his second pick, especially since that’s exactly how it felt when Jenny moved into town during our freshman year of high school and stole his attention straight away. I can’t let myself go down that road, not again .
I’ve already let myself get hurt by all of this back in the day, and I’m too grown up and too far removed to let myself get entangled in this sort of thing ever again. Dealing with Max’s never-ending drama is overwhelming and exhausting enough.
“So, uh,” Ronnie begins, cutting through my thoughts as I realize just how nervous she appears as her eyes dart behind me, and my eyes narrow. “I probably should’ve warned you earlier, but uh, I maaaaay have invited Ford tonight, and he may have just walked in.”
“Wait, what? What do you mean?” I ask, my heart rate quickening as I sit up straight. The temptation to turn around in my seat and follow Ronnie’s brown-eyed gaze is strong, but fear keeps me rooted in place.
I haven’t seen Ford since the night of his wedding just over two years ago. I’d known that coming home meant I’d run into him and see him at some point, but nothing could have prepared me for the bomb she’d just dropped, especially so soon. I’d figured I’d at least have a few more days before we’d be forced to interact.
“I invited him to Margarita Monday. I mean, he is the other important part of this friendship trio,” she explains in an annoyingly casual fashion as she reaches for a chip to dip in the salsa, like she hadn’t just tipped my world upside down.
Before I can say anything else, Ford’s familiar timbre rings out as he approaches our table. “If it isn’t Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum,” he teases as I finally brave looking up at him.
Damn! How does he still look this good? He’s somehow grown even more attractive. This isn’t fair. Why couldn’t life have treated him to a dad bod or something? Okay, so maybe he’s not actually a father yet, but a round belly or something to take away from that handsome face of his would be nice.
Instead, many of his boyish attributes have faded with time, giving way to a more mature appearance with a sharp, chiseled jawline that has the perfect amount of well-groomed stubble. His short, dark hair curls in just the right way, adding even more appeal. While I’d guess he recently got out of the shower and let his hair air dry, instead of looking like a mess, it looks effortlessly tousled and perfectly styled.
He still has on his signature pair of black glasses, but instead of looking goofy or dorky, they give him a distinguished sophistication. I’m so not ready for this, especially as his gorgeous dark chestnut eyes fix directly on me. How am I ever going to make it through the night now?