Page 22 of In Plain Sight

“A cloth or something, if you have one.”

He cocked his head curiously.

“My friend spilled his drink,” I explained.

“I can get someone to clean that up for you,” he said. “Which table?”

“I don’t mind getting it,” I said. “It’s about time for my friend to leave, anyway. No point bothering anyone for this.”

He nodded, a knowing look crossing his features. “He’s had a few?”

I leaned my elbows against the bar. “Pretty sure we’re at a few pitchers now.”

“Roger that.” He ducked behind the bar and reappeared a second later with a roll of paper towels in one hand and bucket in the other. “Good luck.”

I took them from him. “Thanks.”

Everyone was laughing at something when I came back to the table with the cleaning supplies in hand.

“Did any get on the floor or the seat?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the drunken laughs of my friends.

No one answered, and I made a point of stepping on Dean’s foot as I leaned over the table to mop up the mess.

“Ow.” He yanked his foot free from under mine and slammed his knee into the underside of the table hard enough the whole thing shook. “Ow!”

“Careful,” I deadpanned. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

I finished cleaning the mess while everyone started talking at once, getting progressively louder until they were shouting.

I gritted my teeth and tossed the used towels into the bucket. I was so done with tonight.

I’d spent the past two hours sipping my beer and watching my friends get drunk. I’d only had two drinks, and everyone else was approaching or already into the double digits.

It was Saturday night, so I didn’t have to work in the morning, but I was exhausted. I’d only gotten home from work at six, right as Dean started blowing up my phone and pestering me to come out until I’d relented around eight and agreed to come out tonight.

In those two hours, I’d had time to shower and eat something, and that was pretty much it. I’d had zero time to relax after another six-day work week, and being at the bar with my drunk friends wasn’t the restorative outing I hoped it would be.

All I wanted tonight was to hang out with my friends, have a few drinks, and decompress after a long week. Instead I spent the night wishing I was anywhere but here.

Without saying a word, I brought the rest of the paper towels and the bucket back to the bar.

“Thanks.” I handed them to the bartender.

“You look like you’re having a rough night,” he said, giving me a quick once-over.

I didn’t miss the little gleam in his eye or how his gaze lingered on my chest.

“You could say that.” I gave him a wry smile.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Long day, long week, long month.” I sighed.

“I know the feeling,” he commiserated. “Is it just me, or does it feel like time is a flat circle?”

“A flat circle?” I asked.

“Yeah, like a loop that we just keep going around. Just a repeat of the same thing over and over again.”

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