Page 17 of Unlikely You

“What can I get you, hon?” the bartender with both arms covered in tattoos asked. She also had sparkling surface piercings on her clavicles that were revealed by the tank top she wore. This was why I came to Sapph.

“I’ll have a SoCo and Coke with lime,” I said. It was a boring drink, but I liked it and saw no reason to change.

The bartender grinned at the easy order and went to make it for me.

The Melissa Etheridge murderer finished her song with a flourish and a small group near the stage cheered as two new singers stepped up to the mic.

I was gonna hear so much Chappell Roan and Tegan and Sara and Hayley Kiyoko getting destroyed tonight. Could be worse.

It was hard to even take a deep breath with how many people were stuffed into the bar. Coming here in the summer on a weekend was always a gamble, yet here I was.

The bartender returned with my drink and I told her to open a tab for me. My apartment wasn’t that far, but I’d called a car to bring me to and from anyway.

Moving away from the mayhem at the bar with everyone trying to order drinks, I searched for anywhere to stand where I wouldn’t be smashed up against at least three other sweaty bodies.

Not much luck. It was hard enough moving forward and not spilling my drink all over the floor.

That was a challenge, but I finally found a corner where I could squish myself and have a little room. Close enough. I set my sights on that spot and stepped as quickly as I could toward it.

I’d had to scoot near the bathroom doors to reach my corner, and one of them flew open, nearly smacking me in the face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Honey. Honey Holloway. Honey Holloway was coming out of the bathroom at Sapph.

I dropped my drink, which was fortunately in a plastic cup so there wasn’t any glass on the floor, but it made a huge puddle and splashed all over my jeans and shoes.

“Fuck!” I yelled, and several people turned and booed at me for spilling my drink. Within moments, someone who worked at Sapph came forward to wipe up the mess. Honey seemed frozen in horror.

“I’m… I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a new drink. Are you okay?” She reached out to me as if I’d been physically injured.

“I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth. I’d worn sneakers tonight and the cold drink was already soaking through the canvas and into my socks. I didn’t want another drink. I wanted not to have wet fucking shoes or be the freak who dropped a drink at Sapph.

I put both hands up. “Leave me alone.”

Shoving past her, I squelched into the bathroom and went to the sink to see what I could do. Nothing. There was nothing to do. I needed a change of clothes and shoes that I didn’t have with me.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and pulled up the app to order a ride home.

This was what I got for leaving my apartment and trying to be around other people.

“Bren?” Her voice was soft, but somehow cut through everything else, including the group scream-singing “Good Luck Babe.”

I looked into the mirror to find Honey standing behind me, her face blooming with a blush that somehow made her even prettier. The blush went all the way down to her chest, drawing my attention to the cleavage revealed by her low-cut top.

Stop staring at her tits, Bren. This woman is the reason you have wet and sticky socks right now.

“Leave me alone,” I said, washing my hands in the sink so I had something to do instead of looking at her. A look of hurt crossed her face as if I was the one who had wronged her.

“I’m so sorry. Do you need anything?”

“Do you have a new pair of jeans, shoes, and socks in my size on you?” I snapped, rinsing my hands under the water. I reached for one of the scratchy brown paper towels to dry off.

“Well, no. But…I have to do something. I feel awful.”

“You’re not the one with wet feet.”

Normally I wouldn’t be so mean about this, but I’d come out tonight and had barely gotten here and the night had been ruined.

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