Page 35 of Willow

The parking lot is full when we drive up, but we manage to claim a spot. The darkness is all around us. Deernan’s shines through the night like a beacon, calling us inside. I can hear the hum of conversations as we leave the vehicle and walk closer to the building.

The boards whine and shift beneath our weight as we walk through the front doors. My stomach is tied up in knots of anticipation as every step takes me closer to Zane. It’s an intimate space inside, not very large at all, but it also has a niceoutdoor deck. Tonight, every table is full, and the double doors leading to the deck are propped open. The space is warm with all the bodies packed inside, but the cool breeze helps. There are half-eaten pizzas on most of the tables, and a whole lot of beer and drinks are scattered around.

Chelsea spots Wyatt at a table over in the corner before I do, and we weave our way through the crowd to reach the space. I pause when we arrive and glance around. Wyatt and Benji are here with another guy I haven’t met yet. They introduce him as Paul.

And then there’s Zane, sitting across the table. I purposely make myself wait before my eyes drift to him, but once I do, I linger. He isn’t wearing a hat tonight. His hair is thick and wild, the way I imagine it looks after he’s spent a day on the slopes. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black thermal shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and shows off the contours of his chest, faded blue jeans, and black boots, and his chair is angled toward the stage.

Chelsea takes the empty seat next to Zane before I can make a move, and Wyatt motions for me to sit in the chair next to him. I can feel Zane’s dark eyes on me as I move closer to his childhood friend. Wyatt grabs a pitcher of beer from the middle of the table and fills two empty glasses, passing one to Chelsea and handing the other one to me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip. I’ll stick to one or two beers tonight since I’m driving.

“What did you do today?” Benji asks from the other side of Wyatt.

I tell him about our time spent in the square. Wyatt, Benji, and Paul describe their afternoon on the river, fly fishing, while Chelsea entertains Zane. I watch them out of the corner of my eye as I pretend to be engrossed in conversation with the others.

I thought of Zane when I got ready tonight. I wore my hair down in wild waves, tamed with a little hair product, because I remembered him saying he liked it that way the other day. I chose designer jeans with rips in strategic places and a dark green top that fits me like a second skin. But now, I just feel silly for the effort because he hasn’t given me more than a passing glance. He’s laughing at something Chelsea said, while her hand is resting on his sinewy forearm. It’s all I can focus on – her touching him possessively.

Women glance at our table from across the room. They’re blatantly eyeing the men surrounding me. But most of them linger on Zane with his brown hair and dark eyes. His quiet confidence. Things get worse when I see Jessica approaching with her perfect platinum locks swaying down her back. She joins our group, squeezing another chair on the other side of Zane.

“Hey, Jess,” Wyatt greets the newcomer.

A second woman sits next to Paul and is introduced as Anita, Paul’s girlfriend.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, smiling at her. Then, I look over at her friend. “Hi again, Jessica.”

Jessica graces me with a fleeting smile, but her eyes are already on Zane. She grins at him. He tips his chin to her. She shifts her body so she’s facing him. Her eyes never leave his face as her fingers land on his chest. Her touch remains as she toys with the material of his shirt, and he lets her.

I take two gulps of my beer while pretending to be unaffected by the scene across the table. Zane is squeezed between two gorgeous women who are vying for his attention. I was so excited to see him tonight. Now I feel like a silly, foolish girl. Ihopedsomething would happen between us again. But his quietindifference takes me back to the first night we met. It’s like those brief kisses and intimate touches that first evening and in the forest never happened at all. My hopes die a slow death with every flirtatious glance he gives to and receives from someone who isn’t me. And I wish I didn’t notice. I wish I didn’t care. He’s making it clear tonight that I’m nobody special to him.

I can’t be someone else’s secret. Not again.

A guitar strums from the small stage up front, and I shift in my chair and pull my attention to the band. I take a deep breath and force myself to focus on the entertainment when I see an acoustic guitar and a microphone with a singer in front of it. I love acoustic sets. And I want something—anything—to distract me. My head is spinning, and there’s a painful ache inside my chest that I’m trying desperately to ignore as I pretend not to care.

I take another drink of beer.

“Do you want a shot of something?” Wyatt asks with his lips pressed close to my ear.

I shake my head, rotating until I meet his eyes. “I can’t. I drove tonight.”

“One won’t hurt,” he says enticingly.

It is tempting to drown myself in a drink or two. Even if it is only a temporary relief.

“I can drive you home later if you drink too much,” he murmurs.

I catch Zane’s frown from the corner of my eye, and I’m enticed to lean further into Wyatt just to get his attention. To make Zane feel just a fraction of the jealousy and rejection I’m feeling right now. But I don’t want to use Wyatt that way. It wouldn’t be fair to him, not when my interest is centered on his friend. And I’mtoo old to play childish games that I’d probably end up losing anyway.

“Maybe later,” I say with a small smile. “But I think I’ll stick with beer for now.”

If I drink too much and let Wyatt take me home, he’ll think it means something it doesn’t. And I don’t want to lead him on. Even though I know I could get under Zane’s skin that way.

Wyatt leaves his seat to order some shots for the rest of the table. There are waitresses around, but it’s so packed that the service is slow. He comes back a few minutes later with a tray of amber-colored liquor in shot glasses. And when I see Jessica laugh at something Zane said and lean in close to whisper something in his ear, my resolve weakens, and I grab a glass.

Wyatt winks at me. “I got you one just in case.”

Everyone lifts a shot as Benji makes a funny toast. We meet in the middle, all our glasses tapping together in a giant circle. I don’t make eye contact with anyone when I tap the bottom to the tabletop and bring it up to my mouth, swallowing the liquid down my throat while willing it to numb me quickly.

I turn my attention to the front when the man onstage starts singing a cover of “Fast Car.” His voice is rich and smooth, like the whiskey I just drank. He has a rasp that makes his sound unique. And I start to lose myself in the melody.

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