Page 59 of Grave Misgivings
After last night’s shenanigans and today’s myriad of confusing thoughts and emotions, I am more than ready to eat my feelings.
The host sits us down quickly, and I don’t hesitate to pull up a chair, burying my head in the menu.
“What can I get you boys to drink?” Our waitress asks, and I don’t miss the way she bats her eyelashes at Zeb. I feel a pang of jealousy that I know is totally unfounded. To his credit, he doesn’t even blink.
But it strikes me like lightning, nonetheless.
“Probably just a beer and a water,” he says nodding to me. “What about you?”
I take one look at him, then the bar. “You have sour apple martinis?” I ask. “With the little cherries?”
The waitress smiles. “Absolutely, sugar.”
I nod with a grin. “I’ll take one of those, please.”
I don’t miss the way Zeb shakes his head.
“What?” I ask innocently. “I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Really?” He laughs and I shrug as the waitress heads to grab our drinks.
Across the room, I see a couple patrons socializing. A man and a woman in the corner taking selfies, another couple sharing a plate of nachos, and in the far left corner.
“So, uh... you come here often?” I attempt to make conversation, even though I know I’m terrible at it.
“Not as often as I like for leisure. But I play here a lot.”
“Yeah, Katy said you were kind of a big deal around these parts,” I say.
I don’t miss the way his eyes glisten with excitement. “Really? She said that?”
Okay, so Imayhave Googled him a bit more.
Okay, maybe more than a bit, but I don’t need to tell him that because then he might actually think Iama pervy, creepy, old man.
And I really don’t want him to think I’m any of those things.
“Yeah. I, uh, saw some of your recent stuff. On your YouTube page,” I offer as our waitress sets down our drinks.
Zeb chews his bottom lip as he reaches for his beer. The waitress takes our orders, and it takes entirely too long for my liking.
But once she’s gone, I take a sip of my martini, puckering my lips from the tart taste.
It’s like drinking a cold, liquid version of a jolly rancher.
But I kind of like it.
“Yeah. You sound great, really,” I say as I let the sour concoction coat my throat.
“Yeah? You think so?” he asks, smiling from ear to ear.
“I mean, you always sounded great to me. Even back then.” I spin my cherry around the green potion by its stem. “But now...” I let my voice trail off as I take another sip of my drink.
“Now, what?” he asks. He shifts in his seat, which draws his stool a little closer to me.
I look up at him, at his bright green eyes, the way his dark hair falls across his temple. The way he twists his lush, full lips.
“Now, it fits. The deep, sexy voice, I mean.” I feel a flush creep up my cheeks the minute I say it, and I turn in my seat if only to avoid the look on his face, because I suddenly feel like a baby bird that’s been dropped out of their nest.
