Page 10 of Coincidentally Kismet

Gravel crunches under the tires of the Uber van we commandeered as Smith, Ruiz, and Butler yammer on to Amy about the Waterin’ Hole.

“So it’s like this, Amy. It’s a country bar with line dancing, but it’s also at the beach. You can spin around while listening to the musical sounds of the ocean, sweetheart.” Smith smiles at her, making my instincts shout in discomfort.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s enough. She might be dancing, but it won’t be with any of you knuckleheads,” I remind them with a warning and a look that could kill.

“Oh Will, I can handle myself.” Amy pouts from her seat, squished between Ruiz and me in the middle row.

When we arrive, we pour out of the van, making our way to the end of the line. There must be fifty people waiting to get in. I sit on an old wooden pylon, making myself comfortable as this might be a while. The guys continue asking Amy questions about how long she will be in town, where she is working, really all the things I want to know the answers to. But for some reason I can’tpay attention. The air is buzzing with something I can’t quite put my finger on.

My eyes are honed in on people pouring out of various car services, some heading to the line like respectable folks, others trying to butter up the security guards in hopes of skipping. I grumble to myself about the lack of respect for others. What makes some people think they deserve to go in while everyone else waits is beyond me. The entitlement of it all has always rubbed me the wrong way.

“Dammmnnn. Do you see that?” Smith knocks me on the shoulder to get my attention.

“See what?” I ask, looking around for whatever’s caught his attention.

“That.” He points at a gorgeous tall girl in cutoff shorts and a sparkly tank top. She looks almost out a movie with her brown hair swaying in the breeze, long sculpted tan legs shifting easily with each step. Of course she and her friend are heading right to the door, not caring for the line of suckers, including me, waiting patiently to get in. Her friend has a magnetism about her. Maybe it’s the way her long blonde hair swishes back and forth or the sashaying of her hips. I can’t stop staring.

“Do you need a rag?” Amy snarks, rolling her eyes at me.

“W-what?” I snap my head in her direction.

“For the drool, bonehead. You are staring like a creep.” She swats her hand across the back of my head to emphasize just how blatantly dumb I am being in her eyes.

“Who are we talking about? Going to clue us in?” Butler asks, crossing his arms like he doesn’t want to be the one left out of whatever revelation we’re having.

“He’s staring at that girl. The one with the brunette. It’s disgusting...I can practically see his eyes popping out of his head,” Amy huffs, crossing her arms. Nothing like a younger sibling to call you on your shit.

“Bro, this could be the one. Get over there and talk to her.” Smith shoves me, trying to push me out of line and in the blonde’s direction.

“No.” One single word, emphatic and definitive.

“Why the hell not?” Ruiz looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. It’s unfathomable that I would find someone physically attractive and not be hounding her for a chance.

“What good would that do? I don’t do relationships, remember?” Shifting my eyes to the back of the line, I notice it is getting longer by the minute. We picked the wrong night to come, crowded places amplify my anxiety.

“So, let me get this straight. We are just supposed to sit here and act like it’s not a big deal that this is the first time we’ve seen you go ‘moon-eyed’ over a girl?” Smith makes air quotes to emphasize how ridiculous he thinks I am being.

“Yep, pretty much. Nothing good could come out of us talking.” I defend my actions despite the protest happening in my belly. My heart is thumping out of my chest. I haven’t felt the spark or desire to even talk to someone in longer than I can remember. Why now?

“What are you so afraid of?” My sister throws her arms up in frustration.

“You...You know the answer to that, and do not make me go there.” I point at her in frustration. Of all the people in the world, she should know we are the castaways. The ones who will never be enough, my sister and I. I’ve heard it a thousand times: If we hadn’t made life so painfully dull, he wouldn’t have sought out something more exciting.

“For fuck’s sake. Is this about dad? You seriously still believe that if you had been more perfect he would have stayed? Or is it that you’re afraid to commit and end up cheating? Both are bullshit, by the way.” Amy is practically shouting at this point.

“Enough, the line is moving. We aren’t here to worry about my love life or lack thereof. Let’s stick to the plan and nurse your broken heart back to health, Aims.” We shuffle forward, silence radiating from our group. I know the guys don’t understand it, but they don’t have to. I’m not willing to risk it. Logically, I know there isn’t any proof that I would be like my dad, but is it really worth finding out? I tried dating when I first joined up. It went okay but I always found myself wondering when the other shoe would drop, when would they find out I’m not all they hoped and dreamed of. The first time I pictured my ex when hooking up with another woman, I called it. I won’t lose another person I care for, and I won’t become my dad, longing for something or someone else.

After what feels like forever, we finally make our way inside, beelining for the bar with our sink-or-swim wristbands. While I love country music, and being so close to the ocean is a vibe, the best part of coming to the Hole is their drinking program. Fifteen bucks for bottom-shelf liquor and Jell-O shots. It’s honestly criminal how much they are giving away. They’ll try to get you, though, always asking if you want an upgrade.

“What can I get you handsome?” a cute-enough redhead bartender wearing a shameless low-cut top shouts at me.

“Whiskey and ginger ale for me, a beer for the lady,” I say, pointing at Amy to indicate who the beer’s for before realizing how much it looks like we’re on a date. See, terrible with women, case in point.

“You got it.” She goes to work preparing our drinks as I spin to take in the sights. My eyes search for the parking lot blonde, but she’s nowhere to be found. I don’t have any business lookingsince I’m not prepared to make a move. A little peek never hurt though.

“Here you go,” Miss Bartender shouts, shoving drinks across the bar in a hurry. I slide a few dollars toward her, grab the drinks, and follow in the direction that Amy headed, finding her circled up at a table with the guys and watching the dancing ensue.

“Will, let’s dance.” She tugs me toward the floor while the guys follow.

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