Page 6 of True Honey
“It’s been a rough couple of months,” I admit, “today was just…”
“Enough to make you want to drink?” She smirked, her watchful gaze flicking to my glass.
“Yeah, exactly…” I sighed. “I don’t usually. It’s kind of a new habit.”
“A bad one,” she corrected.
“One I don’t need,” I admitted, running my hands through my hair and exhaling hard. “You’re a good listener and I’m officially becoming a bar creep.” I laughed,the boys would harass me for how embarrassing I’m being.“Wow. How the mighty fall.”
I hated that the conversation between us was doing more for my mood than whatever the hell Kayla was trying to do. What was wrong with me?Rhetorical question, the answer was a lot and everything all at once.
“I’m Silas,” I said after a minute, realizing I hadn’t introduced myself yet.
She smirked at the introduction but didn’t say anything.
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, Kayla said not to give my real name to college kids,” she confessed, and I couldn’t help but lean forward on the bar.
“I told you, I’m a doctor,” I said.
“And I’m supposed to take you at your word?” She said quietly. Her confidence drained like I’d popped a balloon. I don’t know what bruise I poked, but something upset her.
“You can give me a fake name if it makes you feel better,” I said to her, hoping that she didn’t make good on the offer.
Her brow rose, and her smile had faded, but she was thinking about it.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the directory to the University to find my page. The picture was outdated, I looked so young and fresh, nothing like the overwhelmed graying man in the reflection of the bar back.
“Look,” I said and slid the phone gently across the bar to her.
She leaned over, looking at the picture before looking back up to me.
“Drew,” she said after further inspection of my listing.
Drew.I thought…that was a pretty name.
“Why are you in Harbor?” I asked her hoping that the introductions would open her up to more conversation.
“How do you know I’m not from here, just a new face toyou?” She challenged me.
“You aren’t from the East Coast,” I said, “I’d bet on California, maybe San Francisco.”
“Too loud, too busy.” She doesn’t look up from her task.
“Seattle?” I guessed.
“Too wet,” she laughed.
“Kansas,” I said.
She looked up from the salt and smiled.
“Wichita,” I said.
“Newton,” she corrected.
“Small-town girl, I see you,” I hummed. I would talk for hours if it meant getting to see that cute, argumentative smirk. “So why Harbor? Newton is small enough, dry enough…” I joked.
