“Gotta tell ya,” I breathe, “I don’t know if I can move right now.”
“Right with ya,” he says.
I lift my head to look for that woman again, but the shore is bare.
I’m still not sure if she was there or if I just imagined her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Backsliding
Dane
Tonight is Leila’s last night before the move.
It’s not the easiest thing in the world, but we’ll make it somehow, I’m sure of it. These last days have been phenomenal.
After bringing one fantasy of hers to life, we agreed to try again with another. I’m still not a fireman, but picking her up in a bar should suffice for now.
I’ve been waiting here a while, though.
That’s not wholly unexpected. She said that she had some errands to run before she’d be able to make it, but that anxiety over her leaving so soon after we really found each other is starting to grip my veins.
“You good over here?” the bartender asks.
“How about a tequila sunrise?” I ask.
The guy gives me a bit of a look, but shrugs his shoulders.
I’ve never actually had one, but they’re Leila’s favorite. It might prove to be a good icebreaker for when she arrives.
The bartender makes the drink and hands it over. I pay him and take my first sip.
&nb
sp; It tastes good, no doubt, but it’s a little fluffy for me. I’m one of those assholes that likes to taste alcohol when I’m drinking alcohol.
“Could I get a shot of vodka, too?” I ask before the bartender finds someone else to inebriate.
He smiles and brings me the shot.
I drink it down and take a look out over the dance floor.
I’m looking for Wrigley just as much as I’m looking for Leila.
Wrigley promised that she’d back off, but I know better than to simply take her at her word.
I sat down at the bar next to her and ordered a drink.
We just kind of sat there for a few minutes, neither one of us even looking at the other. It was awkward, but finally she broke the silence.
“What do you want?” she asked. “Have you finally come to your senses and realized that your Vestal Virgin doesn’t have all the appetites that you require?”
“She’s not a virgin,” I said. “That’s really not the point, though.”
“Hold on,” she said. “I don’t think either one of us is anywhere near intoxicated enough for this to be a comfortable, pleasant conversation.”
“I’m really not planning on staying that long,” I told her, but she insisted.