Page 30 of One Kiss Isn't Enough

JUST A LITTLE CRUSH

By Willow Winters & Amelia Wilde

I had to convince myself it was just a little flirtation between us.

When I first met her at the bar, she was already taken.

She was my younger sister’s friend from college who was moving to our small town after graduation. Smart and beautiful, with a smile that made me feel things I’d never felt before, I was hooked instantly. My pulse would race and I found myself eager to make her laugh, to have her brush against me, even if it was only friendly flirtation. Before I knew it, I turned into some schoolboy with puppy love just at the sight of her.

I thought: this feeling won’t last. I shouldn’t be thinking about settling down. She’s just a passing fascination.

But she kept coming around and that desire never went away.

The timing was never right. We became too close, too good of friends to risk anything.

Neither of us ever crossed a line, and at some point, I started to believe it really was only a harmless little crush.

Until one night, I kissed her …

AUBREE

Every Sunday night during football season, a game blares from the corner of the bar. The TV mounted on the wall was updated last year, the pool table is even newer and although the back room and one side of the bar is taken by men with gray beards who have come here for decades, this half of The Peanut Bar and Grill is ours.

It’s been ours for three years now, ever since I moved to this small town. The only thing missing is our names carved into the tabletop at our regular booth.

Same crew every Sunday, and on Wednesdays too for half-price nachos. A smile grows on my lips as the bar cheers, someone shouts in protest and Dani, the bartender, breaks out in a laugh. She and I are alike; neither one of us really cares about football, but this is a part of home.

Nick and Michelle, high school sweethearts who have been married for five years now, are cuddled up in the corner of the booth. They’ll leave early, just like they have since she found out she’s pregnant.

It wasn’t even on the menu until Michelle told the owner she was craving them during her first trimester. He’s her neighbor and said it’s the least he could do.

I take another sip of my pale ale just as the happy couple makes the rounds to say goodbye, root beer float in hand.

Jackson and Nate mock protest over them leaving although every single one of us knew it was going to happen. The other five of us will be here till close most likely.

Nate and his girlfriend, my close friend Anne. The rest of us are the single bunch: Jackson, Cheryl, and me.

“Have twice as much fun for me,” Michelle says and sighs sweetly as she gives me a hug, her belly nudging against mine. Her flowy cream blouse peeks out from her jean jacket that wouldn’t close around her if she tried. It’s not maternity, but it’s darn cute.

“Where’s your sweater?” Nick questions, cutting me off in a protective tone that’s all too adorable just as she’s snatching it from the seat with a smirk on her face. It’s cute how he is with her, and just as cute how she toys with him.

His smirk matches hers once she gives him a peck on the lips.

I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy watching the two of them wave as they exit the bar. Hand in hand. Madly in love.

Another sip of my beer heats my cheeks as I peek at Jackson. Nick and Michelle had one side of the booth. Nate and Anne, the other. Then Cheryl and I took the outside seats while Jackson, Cheryl’s older brother, sat at the barstool closest to the table.

That’s been our setup for years.

Three years of sitting just feet away from a man I have a crush on, every single week. Ever since I moved to this small town.

“Another?” Dani calls out, catching my attention. Her dark eyes stare back at me and it’s only then that I look down and realize my glass is nearly empty.

“Yeah,” I answer and the tall brunette is already pouring me another. She works this side of the room. Her brother works the other. The Peanut Bar is a family place. Practically everything in this town is that way.

It’s all close quarters and routines. Everyone knows everyone and also their business.

Which is why my fingers fiddle with my drink a moment too long before I nudge Jackson, opting to hand him the empty glass, which he easily exchanges for the full one Dani’s holding out to him to pass to me.

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