Page 74 of Drowning Erin

“Yeah,” he says with a half-hearted smile. “It’ssomething.”

I’m not sure what happened to the Brendan I drove here with, but the one beside me now seems to have lost his interest in this night out entirely over the course of fiveseconds.

I slide my fingers through his as we walk toward the bar. “Youokay?”

He nods, pulling his hand away as he reaches for the door. Inside, a group of people wave to us from the deck. I follow as he heads in their direction, wondering what he’s told them about me, remembering the summer we worked together and how infuriating I found the endless parade of girls he brought out at night. Is that how his friends will see me? Or has he let them know that this is different,ongoing?

I have my answer prettyquickly.

“This is Erin,” he tells the group. “My sister-in-law’s bestfriend.”

No, I’m not a part of the parade. I’mless. He’s just explained my presence here in a way that makes it sound like he was forced to bring me. He didn’t even introduce me ashisfriend. He finds me a seat at a table with only one available chair, and then he walks away—no kiss, no hand to my shoulder, no promise that he’ll return. I smile awkwardly at this group of people who all know each other while my stomach sinks to thefloor.

This meant nothing. This was him feeling forced to bring me out because I said something. I did not realize how much I wanted this to be a date until now, when I discover Brendan doesn’t consider it one. And what makes it all worse is that it’s clear he wants no one here to think it iseither.

“So you’re friends with Olivia?” one girl at the table asks. “Are you visiting fromSeattle?”

“No,” I tell her. “I live here. How do you all knowBrendan?”

“College,” shereplies.

And then they start swapping Brendan stories: Brendan with triplets. Brendan getting stalked by girls on campus. Brendan caught climbing out of a girl’s dorm window. I listen in silence with a forced smile on myface.

“He was with a different girl every night,” says one of them with a rueful laugh, twisting the wedding ring on herfinger.

Another glances over at him, currently talking to a very pretty girl in the corner. “It doesn’t look like he’s changed much,” shesays.

The conversation moves on to other things, but my brain does not. As soon as I can extricate myself, I go the bathroom, wishing I could stay here until this horrible night is over. I step into a stall, listening to two girls at the sink plot ways to get their married boss in bed. It reminds me of the conversation I overheard at a work dinner of Rob’s, long before last year’s disastrous holiday party: Christina saying that the second she got the the chance, she was going down on Rob “like it’s the end of the world.” OnlyChristinawould think giving someone a blow job was a good way to spend her last few momentsalive.

I was so mad at the time, and I’m still mad. She’s gotten her wish by now, I’m sure. Probably multiple times. I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is jealousy, or just pure rage that she got what shewanted.

I sit in the stall listening to them, feeling as if my entire history is littered with men I couldn’t trust, men who didn’t want me quite as much as they should have. And Brendan is worse than all of them: happy enough to fuck me as long as he never has to acknowledge it to hisfriends.

I walk out of the bathroom, certain I can’t stand another minute of this night. I cross the bar, heading to the front door, when a hand grasps my elbow. I want, so badly, for it to be Brendan. It isn’t, ofcourse.

“Hey,” the guy says. “I think I know you fromsomewhere.”

He’s tall, though not as tall as Brendan, and cute, but not as cute as Brendan. He’s got the same kind of confidence, though—a guy who’s used to getting what and who he wants. He starts trying to figure out how he knows me, withoutsuccess.

“I think I just have one of those faces that looks familiar to everyone,” I tellhim.

“Maybe it’s because you look like that actress. The British one. Sienna somebody. Do you know who I’m talking about?She—”

Suddenly a massive shape inserts itself between us. Brendan, glaring down at me with the wrath of ahurricane.

“I’ve been looking for you,” hesays.

The guy I’ve been talking to wraps his arm casually around my back, hanging a hand off myhip.

“Remove your hand,” Brendan says, his voice a low growl, “or I’ll fucking help you removeit.”

The guy removes hishand.

Brendan’s fingers wind through mine, too tight and restrictive to ever be considered sweet, but instead of leading me to the deck, we move in the oppositedirection.

He glares at me. “I thought you were all ready to get back together with Rob?” he spitsout.

“I’m notfollowing.”

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