Page 2 of Mixed Connection
“Wooooww, Cassidy? Girl is that you?” Her voice still grates against my skin like it did all those years ago. Before I falter further, I hear the words my best friend told me before walking in,“These people, this place, they don’t have control over you anymore.”She’s right, they don’t have control over me anymore, especially not her.
“Vanessa, how are you?” I respond, hoping she can’t detect the disdain in my facial expression. I watch her nose scrunch regardless. I was not expecting to see her so soon, but God must have a twisted sense of humor today.
“Girl, I’m doing great! I have been looking forward to this reunion since I got the invitation, but I was not expecting to seeyouhere.” Her gaze is calculating as she looks me up and down, just like she always did.
“Why, exactly, wouldn’t I be here?” I question her, letting my annoyance slip through my tone.
My question doesn’t seem to stop her as she continues speaking. As if I didn’t say anything at all.
“I’m living the good life. Traveling the world for work. You know how it is.”
I, in fact, do not know how “it” is. She spoke of traveling the world often in high school, to literally anyone near enough to hear, and now she does. Immediately after graduation Vanessa applied to be a flight attendant. Living in a small town, well, everyone ends up knowing everyone’s business. I also don’t like to admit that I saw it on her social media pages. But she seemsas though she wants to chat and maybe sayingyesthis once with her can be an olive branch. We’re adults now, after all.
“That’s great. I’ve finished adding a new space to my bar where I ca—” I begin, quickly realizing she doesn’t give two shits to the wind when she interrupts me.
“Mmhm, that’s so interesting. You know, if you would wear a shaper then that pudge on the side wouldn’t be so full.” She reaches out but hesitates, something very unlike the Vanessa I remember from high school. I make it a point to step back, giving her an assessing gaze. “Oh, you don’t have to be so sensitive. I thought you would have grown out of that.” Her sickly-sweet tone coats my skin and only furthers my embarrassment, and anger heats my face. This is why I don’t want to be here; I have barely made it inside and I am already making heart-eyes at the exit.
“And here I thought you would have grown out of being such a bi—” As I’m about to finally give her a piece of my mind, someone knocks into me so hard I lose my train of thought and I know I am going to hit the floor. I brace myself for the impact of the cold floor, squeezing my eyes shut but it never comes. Hands suddenly reach out, holding my arms to steady me. And whoever these hands belong to smells incredible, like the smokiness of a rich bourbon.
The owner of the strong grip ends his conversation, pulling only one of his hands away to tap on the bluetooth hidden in his ear as his eyes lock on mine. Craning my head back, I look at the offending bulldozer that knocked me off my feet, saving Vanessa from my fury in the process. He has to be at least six feet four inches, if how far I need to lean back to look at him is any indication. Wide shoulders and a strong chest have to be beneath the shirt he wears with the way the material stretches and wrinkles with his movements.
He gives me a warm smile I will not soon forget, one that tugs at teenage memories I’m having trouble placing, and all I can do is nod my head. It looks like he wants to say something before frustration slightly clouds his features. “Um, I…” he mumbles and my lips tip up slightly, welcoming him to sayanything really. Instead, he gives me a tight lipped grin before he mumbles something I don’t quite catch as he releases me, his gaze never leaving mine, even as Vanessa waves her hand in a flourish ofpick-me-energy.
“So are you going to pretend like I’m not here?” Before Vanessa fully finishes her sentence, he has already turned on his heel, making his way toward the main hall. I can’t hold back the smirk on my face, shocked by his blatant disregard for her, I bite the inside of my cheek to hold in a chuckle. He totally snubbed her, didn’t even acknowledge her, and the petty part of me loves it a little too much. When I twist to look back at her, her face is fixed in a grimace and her shoulders sag. I take the moment to look a bit more closely at the person standing in front of me. Watching her fold in on herself makes me question if I knowthisVanessa, the one who is all grown up and no longer the bully from our teens.
That is until she notices my eyes on her and she quickly puts on the facade she is clearly carrying around. “We had a little fling back in the day, clearly he isn’t over me ending it.” She shrugs as I choke on a laugh. I know she’s not trying to pull that sorry card.Girl, please.
“Mmhm, that must be exactly what it is. I’ll see you inside.” As I start to turn, I look over my shoulder. “Oh and Vanessa?” She looks at me then and I say, “Just for the record, we might be inside Cypress Lake but this is not high school anymore. You need to grow the fuck up and start focusing on yourself.”
“Cassidy, I—” she begins, but I wave my hand, not wanting to hear anything else she has to say.
“Just… don’t, Vanessa. Save it. We had four years together and I don’t want, nor do I have the time for, anything else you have to say.”
Shaking my head as I spin around, I internally give myself a high five for finally standing up for myself. I understand hurt people, hurt people and some people need time to heal, but I am not going to be anyone’s punching bag. I gave enough of myself to her motives a decade ago and I don’t have it in me to give her any more of my time.
I focus on walking as I even out my racing heart. I want to say I hate her, but I refuse to give her that much power over my emotions ever again.
I shake off the negative energy and walk back into the event space thinking about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Shoulders wide enough for a hell of a ride.
The main hall is even more beautiful than the outer lounge area, vines with small flowers are cascading here and there from the ceiling. There is a soft glow that lights the room and pulses to the thump of the music, creating a welcoming ambiance with the scent of rosewater in the air. Clusters of chaises and chairs are grouped along the walls like in the outer area, but in the back of the large room, there’s a bartender near a full buffet. After my introduction to the night, I am going to reset it with a cocktail.
As I get closer to the bar, I take in a wide set of shoulders, and I think of the man who ran into me earlier. I’m staring at a tailored pair of brown pants that rest on this man’s trim waist, where a crisp white shirt is tucked in. Oh, it’s definitely him. The shirt is folded at the widest part of his biceps and I can’t stop the sigh as I notice how the fabric grips his deep-umber skin. His hair is cut low around the sides, and freshly twisted locs are wrapped in an impressive bun on the top of his head.
As though he can feel my perusal, he turns his head slightly to the side. The lights are dim enough that he would be able to tellif someone was walking up behind him but I’m just far enough away that there is no way he can see me checking him out. The bartender must have called his attention back as the mystery man faces the bar once more. Grabbing the short glass of liquid the bartender slides to him, he turns—nimble on his feet for such a large man—before he walks toward a cluster of chairs. I can’t help but watch his long strides, and the way his thighs power him forward as I settle up to the spot he was just standing in.
“Um… Miss? What can I get for you?” The hum of a voice behind the hightop pulls me from the naughty images of my thick legs tangled in his… naked. He walks with relaxed confidence as if nothing bothers him, something I enjoy in a man.
Wow, I shake my head at myself. What is it I find so captivating about him? It’s been a long while since I’ve laid my eyes on someone who fits my visual package so perfectly.
“Yes, sorry about that. Can I have a cherry bourbon sour, with champagne instead of soda?” The bartender nods, gives me a wink, and turns with a flourish to begin working on my drink. It’s one of my favorites, and I find myself smirking about my specialty titled,One Bed, the first drink that inspired Shaken Tropes.
My best friend and I opened the bar a few years ago and the business immediately took off. Patrons can come in for a drink, mingle, and read, though our specialty is hosting blind dates. Customers can share what they are in the mood to read and we’ll make a magical pairing of a beverage and a book, just for them. They are welcome to borrow the book while they drink and even buy it when they come to get a refill. And we never worry because they always come back for a refill.
The bartender hands me my drink and I lounge my back against the bar to take in the crowd around me as I spot a familiar face, one I haven’t seen since graduation.
“Janelle?” A giddiness overtakes me as I set my eyes on the side profile of an old high school friend, one I regret losing touch with. Her waist-length, box braids are parted down the center and sway with her movements. I lightly snort watching her hands move as fast as her mouth while she talks with another attendee. Janelle’s eyes sweep the crowd, waving goodbye to the former students as they part ways before she locks in on me and in a few quick strides, closes the distance between us.
“Oh my God! Cass! I’m so glad you’re here. I was hoping you would be.” She looks at me with a huge smile splitting her face as she stretches out her hands. We give each other a squeeze before laughing at the bits of awkwardness that waft around us.
