Page 4 of Hiding from Hope
I shrug off his words and roll my eyes, signaling for the bartender who wastes no time before making his way over to me. Another handsome man, he has a beard, thicker and darker than Jessie’s, whose is more like a farmer’s scruff than anything else, adding to his lumberjack-hipster vibe that he dons at the bookshop café he owns.
“Hey, sweetheart, what can I get you?” Mmm, even his voice is sweet. Maybe a little higher pitched than I’d like, but at least he’s nice to look at.
“I’ll have another gin and soda, please,” I say back to him, and I feel like we should give Lucas a review. This bartender is super kind. He winks and walks away to grab the drink, and it makes my cheeks heat slightly and I try to turn away to hide the reaction from my face. I hate how it does that.
The grump next to me scoffs.
“What is your problem?” I say to him cheerily.
“He is practically salivating at the sight of you, and you’re just eating out of his hand,” he mumbles.
“What on earth are you talking about? The guy is just doing his job.”
“Oh, please, Ace. You have to know the guy is flirting with you.” Ace. He gave me that nickname when I was fourteen and he was twenty, and it was about the time I realized boys made my stomach do that thing. You know, like, the butterflies that let loose when the guy of your dreams looks at you, or when they accidentally touch you? That thing.
He hasn’t called me that in years… it still makes my stomach do the thing.
I look back to the bartender, not believing that Jessie has any idea what he is talking about, and see he is smiling while he makes my drink. No way.
“I think you’re insane.”
He laughs softly through what I think is almost a smile as he sips his whisky, and the bartender comes back with my drink, and he leans on the bar opposite me with a lopsided grin.
“So, my shift ends in an hour. Feel like sticking around for a drink?” Oh boy. Jessie was right. The man almost chokes on his drink as he tries to hide a bigger smile and buries his face in his hand while shaking his head. If it’s at all possible, my cheeks turn a deeper shade of red as I look back to the bartender.
“Umm, sorry, I’m not really dating right now.” I give him a genuine smile. He is sweet, although not really my type, even though I’m not really sure what that is yet, but he doesn’t do the thing to my stomach.
“No one said anything about a date, sweetheart.” He winks at me again, but it lacks any of the charm I thought it had previously, and something sours in my stomach at the way he looks at me. Gross. I take it back. Lucas is getting a different kind of review.
The grump next to me slams his glass on the bar and stands up from his seat and basically plasters himself to my side, throwing an arm in front of me across the bar. Any humor or laughter he previously held has vanished as he essentially makes himself a barrier between me and the now creepy bartender. “That’s no way to talk to a woman,” he growls with his mid-century statement. I am stunned into silence and the men have a heated moment of testosterone before bartender guy raises his hands in defense and backs away without another look in my direction.
“You really need to get your flirt radar checked, Ace. That guy was practically drooling on you, and you just walked straight into it.”
“I’m sorry. Are you saying that disgusting offer was my fault?” Is he for real? “You have three sisters, and you’re blaming the woman?”
“No.” He grunts while pulling his hand down his face in what I assume is frustration before scratching at his beard. “But you could have more awareness about you. Your lack of it is fucking dangerous in this city.” I roll my eyes at him and turn to head back to the girls when that alcohol confidence from before shoots back up and I turn and pin Jessie with my best Rosie impression–the scary one.
“Why do you have to be such an ass?” I poke him in the chest, and he looks at the spot my finger jabbed, like it’s nothing but an annoyance. “I feel sorry for you sometimes. You are a good person, and under all that stupid angst you’ve decided to live in, is a nice guy who deserves friends and kindness and love. I don’t know why you push it away so much.” His eyes are back at mine, his expression fierce as something resembling hurt flashes across his face, only for a second before he blinks, and it’s his usual grumpy indifference again. I stand there breathing heavily, my eyebrows scrunched but I couldn’t hold the angry face even if I wanted to. Regret at the horrible words hits me almost as fast as the words left my gin-loose lips. “Dammit. I’m sorry JJ, I didn’t mean that.” I close my eyes, my posture sags. Standing in front of his imposing and sturdy frame, I look up into his blue-green eyes. Sadness sits in them so deeply, all the indifference in the world couldn’t hide the world of hurt he pretends not to harbor. Too bad Jessie, I know you better than you think.
I reach up and rest a hand on his arm and give him a soft smile. “It’s just… you are such a great person. I wish you let other people see it. I know you say you like this solitary life, but… everyone needs someone.”
I don’t miss the way his face scrunches into a sneer, only for a second, as though the thought is something impossible, revolting to think he needs someone in his life. He closes his eyes for a beat, but then the famous Jenkins fury simmers within them as he locks them back on me, feet shuffling lightly. He’s officially uncomfortable with all the feelings and conversation, and I’d normally expect him to storm right out of here, making us wait at least 10-15 business days before we heard from him again. Last time, it was pretty much two years.
But he doesn’t. He stays. Right in front of me. Close enough that I can see the mental anguish, fighting against giving in, against feeling any of it.
His fury wins, and his jaw ticks. Unfortunately for him, the alcohol running through my veins causes the fight to leave me in a second and my muscles relax, and his stern look is just enough to make me want to giggle for no other reason other than he is trying to be scary, and yet I am not afraid.
I bite down on my lip to stop myself and instead I let the happiness seep into my smile as I continue. “You know, if you ever need someone, like a person,” I shrug off the nervousness that tries to seep through my gin brain, shoving that nonsense right down, “I could be that for you?”
“What?” he says, confused, his eyebrows raised, eyes analyzing me.
“I know, I know, you’re a big scary grump who doesn’t need anyone,” I mock in his lumber-jack voice while rolling my eyes at him before continuing. “But I’m an expert in grumpy people. I mean, look at Addison, we’re besties. And have you seen Rosie at 5am when the coffee machine is broken, and she has a deadline? That’s the scariest shit on the planet. Your act, although perfected, is not even a little scary.” I bop his nose and he looks down right scandalized as his eyes bulge and he shakes his head like he isn’t sure what happened. “I could be your person, JJ.” I nod and plant my hands on my hips to accentuate the offer. A platonic-person-ing of friendship? That sounds like fun.
“My… person?” he repeats.
I shrug in response. “Yeah, you know, like if you feel sad, or if you don’t know where they keep the star anise at the grocers, or perhaps you need new coffee order ideas, and need someone to call. You could call me. I’m always free. I always know the location of the baking aisle, where they keep the spices, and also, I’m a champ at coffee orders.” I stand there and stare at him for a few beats before I start to get a little nervous with the intensity he looks at me with. His silence, I am guessing, is because he is so excited by my offer, he doesn’t know how to voice it. And not at all because he thinks I’m a babbling weirdo who just offered a cooking-related friendship?
To feign confidence, I wink at him and shrug again before I turn and skip back to the girls.