Page 51 of Fall From Grace
I lean an arm on the table and find it’s a bit sticky. Typical of tables inside bars. God, I could go for a drink right now. Something to loosen me up, help me relax. Something strong that’ll burn my taste buds before burning my throat on the way down. I want to go to the bar and order something, whether that’s out of habit or something else, but I don’t. I stay right where I am, so that when Wren returns, I haven’t moved a muscle.
Wren sits down in the chair next to mine. Both chairs are pulled on the side of the table that faces the stage, so both people sitting at the table can watch. It means she’s inches away. So close.
“They didn’t have many spots left for tonight,” she says, “but I put us down.” When I narrow my gaze at her, she adds, “Just one spot. One song. We’ll, uh, have to wait a while before it’s our turn, though.” She rests her hands on her lap and fiddles with them, acting awkward.
“They have food in this place or what?” A quick look around us tells me this place does small things, like fries, onion rings, fried mozzarella sticks. Basically, easy shit to cook. “Fries look good. You want some?”
She bites her bottom lip in a gesture that is ridiculously tempting. “Uh, sure, if you want.”
I stand and zigzag my way through the bar, heading to the counter, where I get the bartender’s attention and place our order. I also order two drinks—nothing fancy, nothing with alcohol, as much as I would like to. Since Wren is a goody littletwo-shoes, I got us some pop. Dr. Pepper. Everybody loves Dr. Pepper, don’t they?
I pay, and as I wait for our drinks, it makes me realize that I don’t actually know that much about Wren, other than the fact that she was a virgin when we first met with a newly-broken heart—and that she likes to sing.
No, wait. That’s not totally true. I also know she’s a complete nerd who zips through tests and probably never procrastinates anything. She’s the kind of girl who gets things done way ahead of time, and I bet, even if she has good grades, if the teachers offer any extra credit, she’s on it like a fly on a pig—except, you know, she’s way cuter than a fly.
Fuck. I can’t believe I just thought that.
Just when I’m about to mentally slap myself for thinking Wren is cute, I’m served our drinks, and I grab them and turn around. I only make it a step before a weird feeling crawls over me, and I glance around the bar as I try to explain away that uneasy feeling.
It’s not the first time I felt like this. This same exact feeling washed over me when I was trying to hook up with that girl in the alley, like someone was watching. An almost supernatural sensation. But that could just be my paranoia, leftover from the last few years in the spotlight.
I’m nobody now, so why would anybody be watching me? A survey of the bar tells me the only person who’s paying attention to me is Wren, though the girl is trying to act as nonchalant as possible. Right.
Whatever. It’s all in my head.
I return to the table and set down our drinks, pushing one toward her, and she takes it with a smile. “Thanks,” she says. “What do I owe you?”
God, this girl keeps making me roll my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever rolled my eyes so damn much before. “Nothing,” I say. Whythe fuck would I make her pay for her own drink? I might be an asshole, but I’m not that kind of asshole.
“Oh, well… thank you.” She curls her hand around the glass and peers down at the bubbly brown liquid. “What is it?”
“Dr. Pepper,” I say. “But if you want something else—”
“No,” she quickly says before she takes a sip. “I love Dr. Pepper.” The light smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth is evidence enough.
“Me, too.” I stop myself from saying anything else by sipping from my own glass. “Said about ten minutes for the fries.” As she mutters a response, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I toss another glance around the bar.
Everyone is so wrapped up in themselves, in their own lives, or too busy watching the duo onstage. Nobody is staring outright at me, nobody appears out of place. That strange feeling must all be in my head, and I don’t know how I can shake it. This paranoia might’ve fit when I was Pope, but here and now? It’s just dumb.
“Everything okay?” Wren asks.
“Yeah, I just… I feel like someone’s watching me,” I mutter, probably sounding insane. Hey, maybe I’ll sound so insane Wren’ll decide she doesn’t want to do this anymore. A guy could hope.
Wren looks around us, but she doesn’t look too hard. Why would she? Nobody’s ogling us, nobody’s glaring. Everything is normal and I’m just making something out of nothing. “I don’t see anything,” she says with a shrug, and then she sips again from her glass. “You know, I honestly thought you’d put up more of a fight. I thought I’d have to drag you here, somehow.”
That makes me chuckle, but the sound dies quickly when she flashes those brown eyes toward me. “As if you could drag me anywhere, nerd.”
Instead of getting annoyed at me for calling her that, she admits, “You’re right.”
“About the fact that you couldn’t drag me anywhere, or that you’re a nerd?”
“Both.” She looks down at her lap. “I’m the oldest daughter, so my parents raised me to be an overachiever—but all it really did was make me a perfectionist that thinks even a perfect score isn’t good enough. I can’t really celebrate achieving anything, because somehow I could’ve done better.”
The way she’s talking about it, I can tell she really believes it. There’s a lot I could say, but I settle for a simple, “That sucks.”
Wren nods once. “It does. I don’t know how to turn that part of me off. For years, I thought I had it all figured out. I thought Mike and I would go to college, get engaged junior, maybe senior year, graduate, and get married. I thought we’d miraculously find jobs close to each other and rent an apartment together or something. I thought I knew what my life would be like. You have any idea what that feels like? Having everything you thought you had taken away from you, including the future you planned?”
Fuck, do I. I feel that in my soul—not so much the perfectionist part, but the part about everything being taken away.
