Page 3 of Aisle Come Back to You

“Well, I guess it’s time to get you to Sal’s,” he says, his tone lacking enthusiasm, but at least he’s no longer opposing the idea.

“To Sal’s!” I cheer, lifting my hand as I gesture toward the parking garage. As good as it’s been to see my older brother, Ronnie is the reason I’m here, and I’m dying to be back with the one person in this world who knows me better than anyone else.

2

Blair

As Miles dropped meoff at SalsaLeedo Sal’s, it was obvious he was still annoyed with my bailing on him, but luckily all seemed to be forgiven once I suggested lunch tomorrow at his mechanic shop. Plus, it’s not like I’m not planning to stay with him at his apartment for the duration of my visit. There will be plenty of brother-sister bonding time to be had in the next two weeks.

As much as I love my older brother, there are times when a girl craves and needs the advice of her absolute best friend in the entire world. I completely understand why Miles worries and why he despises Max, but it’s just different with Ronnie. Sure, she dislikes my on-and-off again fling as well, but at least she can relate and empathize with the difficulties and knows firsthand what it’s like to be a woman dating in this modern world.

I love Miles, but he doesn’t get it. He can be a grumpy and brooding asshole, and women still flock to him, regardless. It’s different for us ladies, and if there’s ever someone I can ventor complain to without the fear of judgment, it’s Ronnie. The girl knows how to give it to me straight without making me feel worse about myself or my situation.

That’s precisely why girl time and margaritas are the much-needed distraction I crave tonight. Despite the limited options for great cuisine in Evergreen Grove, Sal’s restaurant delivers some pretty damn good Mexican food, which is quite impressive for a small town such as this. My love for this place only grew after turning twenty-one, as it fully allowed me to take part in the grand tradition of Margarita Mondays.

As a kid or teenager, it was common knowledge to steer clear of this place on Mondays because of the infamous and unbearably long wait. The adults of Evergreen found it impossible to resist the temptation of the town’s worst-kept secret of cheap margaritas. Sure, the chips and salsa are tasty, and the tacos are top-notch, but it’s the drinks that keep this place in business.

The moment I step inside, the irresistible aroma of warm tortillas greets me, mingling with the energetic rhythm of mariachi music playing from the speakers. Despite it being a few years since my last visit, the vibrant purple, red, green, and orange decor immediately transports me back in time. Nothing has changed, not even the familiar voice calling my name.

Sitting in our favorite booth, my absolute best friend catches my eye as she pushes her way out and barrels toward me. I do the same, meeting her halfway, enveloping her petite frame in a bear hug, immediately feeling the surge of comfort and security that only she can provide. Given that we’re both short, me at five foot two, and her at five foot three, as we pull away, we’re standing practically eye to eye as our grins mirror one another.

That is where the physical similarities between the two of us end. While I have long, golden blonde hair that drapes down to the middle of my back, Ronnie’s chic and stylish short brownhair falls just an inch above her shoulders. “Wow, this is new,” I compliment, letting my fingers lightly comb through the ends of her short locks.

“What do you think?” she asks, wrinkling her nose as she swishes it from side to side. “It was Pete’s idea. He thought it’d make me look more professional and help people take me more seriously.”

“It’s gorgeous,” I assure her, reaching for her hand as I lead her back toward our booth. “But for the record, you don’t need to change anything about yourself or your appearance to present yourself in any particular way. You’re perfect and always have been. Plus, screw looking professional. You don’t need to look like anyone other than yourself.”

While I never found it hard to set myself apart in this small town, one thing the two of us have always prided ourselves on was the fact that we didn’t stick to the status quo. We did our own thing, and even though it only added to the gossip about me and my family, being true to ourselves was always the top priority—or at least I’d always assumed so.

“Said like a true best friend,” she says through a small laugh, as we both slide into our usual seats.

While she thankfully made a few trips to visit me this past summer as I toured with Heartstrings Riot, it definitely wasn’t enough. However, like usual, the familiar warmth and ease of our connection takes over, making it feel as though no time has passed at all.

Growing up, there had been plenty of people who didn’t understand our friendship or connection. While Ronnie is sunlight personified, with the demeanor of a real-life Disney princess, I’m essentially Wednesday Addams, exuding the aura of a rainy day. In so many ways, that’s exactly why I think we work so well. We balance each other out. She’s the peanut butter to my jelly, the moon to my night sky.

Even when it comes to our styles, we couldn’t be more different. I stick to darker colors and black clothing with a more edgy and rebellious style. My closet consists mainly of various band T-shirts and raw distressed jeans. If I had to categorize it, I’d say I prefer to be bold, yet also very laid back.

Ronnie’s style, on the other hand, is vibrant, girly, and playful, with a fearless approach to color. She’s constantly mixing and matching bold and bright hues with different patterns and isn’t afraid to try something new. She also tends to wear a lot of skirts and dresses that are not only sweet and playful, but fun and flirty, with elaborate prints, lace trimmings, and ruffles. While a lot of people see me as unapproachable, everyone constantly seeks out Ronnie’s attention, yet somehow mine is always the most important to her.

Then again, it’s crazy to think about where our lives have gone and how much has changed since we were kids, especially with her having a huge rock on her finger, only days away from getting married.

“Well, what are best friends for if not telling the truth?” I ask before holding my hand out and wiggling my fingers, gesturing for her to give me her hand. “Now let me see that ring of yours in person.”

After using a month of her summer break to tour with me, she’d returned home to a surprise. Her then boyfriend, Pete, proposed the day after her arrival. Apparently, he’d said that the time apart made him realize just how much he loved her and how he never wanted to be apart from her again. With that, he’d gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him in front of their friends and family. As sad as I was to miss it and bummed that Pete hadn’t even thought to invite me, I’d like to think it was a blessing in disguise, since it gave me even more reason to avoid coming home until now.

Pete is a couple of years older than us, so I’d never paid him much attention growing up, and honestly, had never really felt like I had a reason to. Sure, he’d been on student council and was known for his loud and charming ways, but I’d been perfectly content with my small, tight-knit group of friends.

Following my lead, Ronnie sheepishly offers her hand, allowing it to settle in my palm.

“Wow!” I exclaim. The pictures don’t do this thing justice at all. I knew that it was big and shiny, but I’m practically blinded by the sight of it—this ring exudes pure opulence. “Do you love it?” I ask, my eyes moving to meet hers from across the table.

“Yeah.” She shrugs, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face as she hastily retracts her hand, letting it fall underneath the table and out of sight.

“Yeah? That’s all you have to say?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowing as I reach for one of the chips and dip it into the salsa. When I imagined the ring that would sit on my best friend’s hand, I had always pictured something fun and unique—just like her. While the size alone gives this the upper hand on being different, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly special about it. It’s just a giant diamond surrounded by a few other ginormous diamonds.

“It isn’t what I personally would’ve picked, but Pete was so excited, and he loves it, so I love it too.” She shrugs, also reaching for a chip, seeming to grab it purposely with her other hand.

Unfortunately, I know my friend better than almost anyone. She’s far from being honest here. However, I’m not going to make anything about her special day uncomfortable, so I keep my mouth shut—which, for someone like me, is extremely difficult.

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