Chapter 15
Liv
“Are we toasting launch success or drowning boy sorrows?” Andy asks, holding up her very fruity cocktail. I had texted her to meet me at Bar None at six sharp. I didn’t want to be home.
“Both…neither,” I say, shooting my bourbon like a shot of cheap tequila and placing it back on the bar, signaling for Frankie to fill it up.
“Okaaayy.” Andy takes a sip of her pink drink. She plucks the orange wedge from the rim and sucks it between her teeth, watching me from the corner of her eye—but she doesn’t push. She’s good like that.
“Oh! I met the recluse yesterday,” she says, popping one of the maraschino cherries into her mouth. “Strangely hot for a weirdo.”
“I think his name is Eli,” I say, sipping my second glass of bourbon with a little more decorum. I’m not sure if Eli wants people to know his alter ego, so I keep it at that.
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “He walked down the stairs right as I opened our door. I said ‘hi,’ and he came over, held out his hand, and said, ‘I’m Eli. It’s a nice day out.
’ Then he turned around, muttered—I swear Liv—‘Fuck, that wasn’t ten words,’ and walked straight out of the building like he was trying to get away from me. ”
I huff out a pathetic laugh. “Owen said he’s a little socially awkward.” Saying Owen’s name makes my heart pinch. I take another long sip of my drink.
“Yeah, I think I scared him,” Andy says, shrugging her shoulders. “He had that whole tortured genius look going on. I was low-key into it. I might end up on his doorstep one of these days, like a lost puppy.”
I stare into my drink. I can’t respond to her antics at the moment.
She taps her nails against her glass, eyeing me with a mix of amusement and concern.
“Sooo,” she says slowly, “how was your date last night…and should I mention you’re wearing last night’s jeans?
” She tries to sound casual, but I see it in her eyes—she’s clocked the bourbon, the mood, and she’s doing the math.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, tipping my glass to my mouth again.
Andy puts her hand over the rim and nudges it back to the table.
“I know RootDown is about to IPO, but I don’t think tomorrow you will be happy you’re shooting thirty-dollar bourbon like it’s Cuervo Silver.”
My phone buzzes on the bar.
Owen: Hey Liv, I’m at your apartment, but I don’t think anyone’s home. I’m sure you got busy with launch stuff. Let me know when you’re free. I could grab us takeout.
“Is this why we are hiding at Bar None on a Monday night?” Andy says, reading Owen’s text.
“Maybe.”
“I thought you agreed to try something real with him.”
“Apparently, I was the only one who agreed to that. Some of us were still faking it.”
I pick up my phone and type out a text.
Liv: Something came up. I think it’s best if we call this what it was and go our separate ways. Thanks for fake-dating me, you were very convincing.
“What happened?” Andy grimaces, reading my text.
I watch the text bubbles appear and disappear until the screen goes blank. No reply.
“I don’t know. I thought we were on the same page, but apparently, I was just some charity project. He has some kind of savior kink, and he was just swooping in to protect me from my ‘mean mother.’ Taking me to play stupid video games because I had a traumatic childhood.”
Andy watches me rant over the rim of her glass, slurping her drink.
“How,” she says carefully, “do you know this?”
“He said it, Andy. I heard him talking to his sister. She said he always does this, and I was just another girl who needs too much.” I shoot the bourbon. Hell with it. “Sound fucking familiar?”
“Oh, Lambchop,” Andy puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You know this is him, not you, right?”
“He’s not the first guy to say I’m not low maintenance.”
She picks up my phone and reads his text again. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”
“Pretty much. Then he agreed it was all fake.”
Andy looks like she’s about to say something more, but something catches her eye over my shoulder.
“Oh, there’s Cal and that hottie I’ve seen him with the past few days,” Andy says, waving to our upstairs neighbor entering the bar.
“Hey, ladies,” Cal says, coming up next to us. I don’t feel like small talk, but Cal has always been a friendly neighbor. Kind of a big brother type.
“I’m Andy,” she says, holding her hand out to Cal’s friend. “It’s a pleasure to meet me.”
Cal and I both laugh quietly, and Cal says, “This is Liam. We’ve been best friends since ninth grade. He’s going to be staying in my apartment while I’m gone on my next assignment.”
“Well, we are downstairs if you need a cup of sugar.” Andy bats her eyelashes, “Or a little spice. I’m versatile.”
“Please excuse my roommate. I’m Liv,” I say, shaking Liam’s hand. “We try to keep her on a leash.”
Andy shrugs. “I mean, I’m into it.”
Cal waves Frankie over and orders two beers, “And whatever the ladies are drinking,” he adds.
“Is this a girls’ night, or want to grab a table?” Cal asks once we all have our drinks.
“It’s an intervention,” Andy offers, getting up from her bar stool, and I pinch my temples. “Liv is getting over the latest asshole to make her feel like she’s not worthy of love.”
“Andy,” I snap. I don’t really need to air all my dirty laundry to two virtual strangers. “It’s not that,” I correct, following the group to a booth in the back. “I just met someone, and it turns out we weren’t on the same page. No big deal.”
“That guy, Owen?” Liam asks as we scoot around into the booth. “We met him in the building earlier.”
“Yeah,” Cal agrees, “Seemed like a decent guy, friends with Eli upstairs, right? But he’s an asshole?”
“He’s not an asshole,” I sigh, unsure how to explain it. “It’s just…complicated.”
“It usually is,” Liam says, lifting his beer bottle in a toast.
“So,” Andy starts, folding her hands under her chin and resting her elbows on the table.
“They agreed to fake date, because Liv’s mom really is an asshole.
But then it seemed like maybe the feelings weren’t fake after all, so they decided to try a real date, but then maybe the feelings were fake?
” Andy ends her summary sounding as confused as I feel.
“He also filled her out like an application.”
Liam chokes on a sip of beer, and I bury my face in my hands.
“So you’re not sure if this was a fake date, a one-night stand—”
“Two!” Andy adds helpfully.
“—a two-night stand or something more?” Cal asks, clearly more used to Andy’s antics than poor Liam.
“Basically.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Ask him what?” I stare at Cal incredulously.
“If he was just helping you out, having a good time, or likes you for real?”
“Like, ‘Hey, were we just hooking up, or do you want something more?’”
“Um,” Cal nods, “Yeah, I mean, then you know, right?”
“Straight shooter,” Andy nods, “I like your thinking, Cal. Why beat around the bush when you could just jump in it?”
“I don’t—” Liam looks at her quizzically, “—get that analogy?”
“Yeah, but what if he thinks I was a mistake?” I ask no one in particular.
“Liv has a bit of past relationship baggage,” she stage whispers to the guys.
Liam lifts his beer bottle again. “Don’t we all?”
“I just don’t want to be some girl he thinks he can fix. I don’t want to go down that path again. I’m just not sure it’s worth it to try.”
Liam leans back, beer bottle resting against his knee.
“I don’t wanna be that guy who talks in sports metaphors about love,” he says with a self-deprecating grin.
“But look—I’ve played baseball my whole life.
You know what makes a great hitter? Failing seven out of ten times.
And still showing up at the plate like you’ve got a shot.
It’s not about getting it right every time.
It’s about showing up, swinging anyway.” He pauses, then adds, a little quieter, “People only remember the home runs, you know? Not all the strikeouts it took to get there.”
Cal looks at him with something that looks like a cross between pity and admiration, and I know there is a story there, but I’m too caught up in my misery to ask for details. I stare into the bottom of my empty bourbon glass like it might hold the answers.
“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” Cal says gently.
“Sometimes the best thing you can do is stop, take a breath, and see if the path’s still waiting for you in the morning. If it is…then it’s real,” Liam adds. His voice is quiet, but something in it feels knowing. Like maybe he’s learned that the hard way.