Page 246 of Soul So Dark
Then he rests his elbows on the edge of the bar and watches like a hawk as I weave through the crowd. Bowen gazes aimlessly at the barback, unaware of my presence. It takes him a few seconds to feel my eyes on him and realize I’m leaning on the bar right next to him.
He says nothing at first, only looks me up and down a few times with a blank, emotionless stare.
“You’re here,” he finally says, narrowing his eyes with intrigue.
“I’m here,” I reply with a flash of my eyes.
Then I glance across the patio at Brett.
“So,” I reach over and swipe my fingertip along Bowen’s forearm, over the bluebonnets trailing up to his elbow.
He flinches ever so slightly, his subtle discomfort amplified when he hears my next question.
“How do you know my friend, Brett?”
???
“What if she hates me?”
Alex glances across the console at me through hooded eyes. “Why would she hate you? You’re perfect.”
“I fuck her grandson on camera for money in front of thousands of people!” I hiss back.
His brow shoots up and he swivels his head toward me. “Are you planning on telling her that?”
“No…” I turn to the window, gazing across the meadows at the familiar blue water tower peeking over the tree line.
I’ve been looking forward to this day for weeks. Why am I punking out now?
Because this is basically an audition for the rest of my life.
At least that’s what it feels like. And it’s my own doing and no one else’s. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it a thousand times over.
“Hey,” Alex lifts my arm and kisses the top of my hand, “don’t let him ruin your night. We adapt. Nothing’s changed.”
The late summer sun hits the side of Alex’s face as it dips low in the sky and, for a split-second, he looks exactly like he did the day I skipped school with him freshman year of high school to float down the frigid creek on his paddle board. He’s still there, behind his sharp jaw, 50 pounds of extra muscle, and severe eyes that could make the devil himself cower in fear. I know him like no one else does—not even Colson—and I know he’s right.
Letting the anxiety out of my shoulders with a deep breath, I look down at the white box sitting in my lap. Gently, I lift the lid and peek at the delicate, hand-blown stems of glass flowers with their deep violet-blue petals popping against their pillow of white padding.
Texas bluebonnets.
Alex, Luca, and Adrian drove all the way down to Texas to personally pack and move their grandmother’s vast collection of glass art ranging from stained glass suncatchers to rooster figurines the color of the rainbow. Apparently, she also loves Texas bluebonnets and, according to Alex, they’re protected and you can’t pick them or else risk getting shot by a drone. It has to be a sign, right? I have to believe it’s a sign that even Bowen can’t ruin something as mysterious and wild as this.
Alex’s words echo in the back of my head like a mantra that’s keeping me calm.
You take all the awful things in the world and make them good again.
I’m still not sure whether he was talking in his sleep that night I gave him the new quilt or if he even meant for me to hear it, but I did.
I replace the lid and smooth my hands over the top of the box. She’ll love them. Maybe she’ll be so enamored by the glass flowers that she won’t notice any mistakes I make. Or maybe she’ll lift them up to the light and they’ll accidentally blind her. What if I blind Alex’s grandmother the first time I meet her? Luca will die laughing, Adrian will shun me, and Alex will live in eternal humiliation and guilt because his loser wife brought shame to his family.
I blink, trying to remember where I am.
What the fuck am I thinking?
Suddenly, the truck rolls to a stop and Alex shifts into park. I glance around, surprised to see his grandmother’s house sitting right in front of us, the driveway packed with vehicles.
“Ready?” Alex grins, thoroughly entertained by my anxiety.
