Chapter 1 #3
“Are you a fan?” Miles shifts beside me, his body leaning onto the table. For whatever reason, Miles doesn’t seem to notice. Though I’d imagine for a man like him the idea of somebody not liking him is like an undiscovered planet.
“Not really my thing.”
“Garrett’s thing is more reading the obituaries of the people he’s bored to death,” I shoot back.
“Ha!” A bark of laughter belts out of Miles.
Suck on that Garrett the Judgy. With a smirk, I move my hand and come into contact with a glass on the table’s edge. Before I can react, it slides off the table. Cool liquid splashes onto my lap, and the sound of glass breaking fills my ears.
“Shit!” I hiss, my pulse ticking up.
“Jensen, are you okay? Did you get any glass on you?” Garrett moves to my side and places his hand on my arm.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Here, napkins,” Garrett takes my hand and places a small stack of cocktail napkins in it. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His thumb skates along my wrist.
“Yeah.” I yank my hand from his. The heat of humiliation blazes up my neck. No doubt, my face is pink with embarrassment.
“If you wanted to buy me a drink, you didn’t need to go to these lengths, Jenny.” Miles’s tut is lighthearted.
“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry,” I whisper, wiping at my wet skirt.
“These things happen,” Anker says. “Hell, I spilled an entire cup of coffee on my lap the other day. Thank God, it was iced coffee, or else making our parents’ grandparents would be solely on you.” His chair screeches as he rises. “Let me go grab staff to help with the cleanup. Be right back.”
“Yeah. These things happen,” Miles seconds.
“Especially when you just set your drink there without telling her where it is.” Garrett’s voice has a hard edge. It’s not his typical dismissiveness, but angry.
I school my features into a forced smile. “It’s totally fine… It’s on me. Literally.” Waving at my lap, I offer a halfhearted laugh. “I should have anchored with the table instead of just moving my hand without thinking. I’m sorry—"
“It’s not your fault. It’s his,” Garrett jumps in.
“It was an accident, bloke,” Miles says, his posture going rigid beside me.
“I…” Shaking my head, I swallow thickly to ease the mortification clustering in my throat. “I’m going to run to the restroom to properly address this.” Pushing back the prick of threatening tears, I unfold my white cane and head to the restroom without another word.
In the bathroom, I lean against the door, steadying my breath.
For most people, this isn’t a big deal. Glasses fall.
They break. It happens, but when you’re visually impaired, it feels different.
There’s this added layer that weighs you down in these moments.
At least for me. If not for my vision loss, this wouldn’t have happened.
I’d have seen the glass. Staff wouldn’t need to clean anything up.
Anker wouldn’t be comforting me. Garrett would just find another reason to be his grumpy self instead of doing unnecessary battle on my behalf.
Miles wouldn’t have been about to apologize until I interrupted him to spare both our feelings.
This incident likely reminds him why I’m just the friend he’s kissed a few times.
A relationship with me comes with rules, of sorts.
As independent as I am, there are things I need from the people in my life to support that.
Like letting me know when they’ve set something down in front of me and where it is.
No wonder he doesn’t want me. That ever-present knot in my stomach in social situations pulls just a little tighter.
“Don’t do that. You’re not that teenage girl that boys only kissed as a bet, or that coed that someone… Nope, we’re not going there.” I wrap my arms around my torso in a soothing self-hug.
It’s almost too cliché. Here I am, in the women’s restroom on the brink of tears, like it’s the eleventh-grade homecoming dance after I found out Everett only kissed me for a bet.
Choosing not to give in to self-pity, I push away from the wall.
Grateful that I wore the black pencil skirt, instead of the pink one I’d thought about this morning, I dab it with a wet paper towel and do my best to pat it dry.
A spritz of the perfume from my purse will help cover up the smoky aroma of scotch.
“No more being the sad, embarrassed girl,” I say, patting my face dry after splashing cold water on it. “You’re going to go out there. You’re going to flirt with Miles, and tonight will be the night he’ll realize that you’re more than a friend.”
Grabbing my cane, I open the door and head out.
“Jensen…”
“Crap…” My hand goes to my chest.
“Sorry. It’s Garrett. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”
“I know who you are.” I stand straighter. While I appreciate him announcing himself, my annoyance overrides his good blind person etiquette.
“Here.” He reaches out and pushes something into my hand, it’s fabric soft and warm. “To wear. You can wrap it around your waist.”
I unfold the garment. “A hoodie?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m fine. Thank you, though.” I hold it out to him.
“Just take it.”
“I don’t need it.”
“You do…” He puffs a breath. “There is a noticeable wet spot on your skirt.”
Trailing my hand down, I swipe my fingers across the still-damp fabric. “Fine,” I say as the corners of my mouth drag down.
It’s not his goal. At least I tell myself that, but this hoodie digs at that self-pity I’m trying to stuff back down.
Despite my best attempt to be the secure-in-herself blind woman, moments like this drag up old insecurities.
Like, how if I were sighted, I’d know the wet spot on my skirt is noticeable.
“I can hold this, so you can put it on,” he murmurs, curling his fingers over mine on the handle of my cane.
“Please, stop.” I fight the shake in my voice.
“Stop what?” He moves closer, his body’s warmth almost cradling me.
“Trying to take care of me. I can take care of myself.” I know he means well, but it’s just too much right now. It yanks free emotions that I am trying so hard to push down.
He makes a throaty growl noise. “Why do you have to be like this?”
“Like what?” My brow scrunches.
“Like Jensen.”
“What does that mean?” I press my lips into a firm line.
“A stubborn pain-in-the-ass.”
I glower. “You’re the ass expert, since you’re being one to Miles.”
“The literary fuckboy?” He lets out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t get your fascination with him.”
“It’s easy with Miles. He’s fun,” I say through clenched teeth.
He huffs a dismissive snort.
“There’s nothing wrong with fun.”
“He’s a clown in his sports jackets with vintage T-shirts, spouting about being untethered. It’s textbook Peter Pan bullshit. It’s pathetic. You’re wasting your time on him.”
Pathetic? The word surges through me like hot lava, drowning any lingering self-pity. In its wake is only anger.
“I’m not pathetic.”
“Jensen, I—”
“No. You don’t get to call me pathetic and have me listen to you.
” I toss the sweatshirt at him and spin on my heels.
Only to spin back. “You know what, I may be wasting my time with Miles, but at least he doesn’t judge me.
He doesn’t treat me like an injured stray kitten he’s obligated to take care of. ”
“I… You’re being ridiculous. You’re not—”
“You insult me, and I’m the ridiculous one.” An unhinged laugh falls out of me.
“Jensen—”
“Nope—” I hold up my hand “—I don’t have the energy to argue with you. To listen to a lecture. I’m done.” Head high, I turn and move back to the table.
“You okay?” Anker asks once I reach the table.
“Perfect,” I say through a tight smile, sliding into my seat and folding my cane.
“That’s our Jenny Wren. No sense crying over spilled scotch.” Miles bumps my shoulder with his.
I just nod and smile.
“Yeah… Speaking of drinks, I’m just about done with mine, so we should head out to Marie’s and then home. We have an early start tomorrow, after all,” Anker says.
It’s the typical agenda for our happy hours. Two drinks each, followed by ice cream at Marie’s Scoops down the street. Right now, I have no desire to spend additional time with Garrett. Breakfast tomorrow followed by the drive to LAX is enough prolonged proximity to him for me.
“Ready for ice cream?” Anker says, indicating Garrett’s return to the table.
“Sure,” Garrett grunts.
“Boo!” Miles’s protest is playful. “And here I thought you were going to buy me a replacement drink, Jenny luv.”
I bite back the smile blooming from his endearment. My belly battles between a swoop and a queasy sensation. No doubt Garrett wears a smug expression at my reaction to Miles’s flirtation.
Fuck him! I replace the tamped-down smile with a sultry expression. “Only if you promise to buy me a drink after.”
Miles leans close and purrs, “Gladly.”
“What about ice cream?” Anker asks.
I wave him off with a flick of my wrist. “You can go without me.”
“Are you sure? We could stay.”
“No worries, gents. I’ve got her,” Miles drawls.
“See. I’m good. I’ll see you in the morning.” I lean back in my chair.
“Okay…” Anker shrugs. “Text me when you get home.”
“Yeah… Goodnight.” I twist towards Miles. “Walk me to the bar, so I can buy the first round?”
“My lady,” he coos, offering me his arm.
“Goodnight, Jensen,” Garrett says as I walk away without a word.