Text Appeal

Ava’s welcome home party is at the Lighthouse Bar and Grill. Just across from my apartment. A sign out front says closed for private function. The storm is still hovering, but it’s busy out on the street just the same. This weekend there’s a black and white film festival at the old cinema down the street, a new show opening at one of the art galleries, and the high school reunion, of course. There’s a decidedly cool culture in this town. Things happen here.

In other news, Connor’s anxiety has jumped to me. He seems to be filled with grim determination as he leads the way with a firm grip on my sweaty hand. Sad to say, there are just some parts of your body on which you can’t effectively use antiperspirant.

It’s the usual bullshit messing with my head. He’s so hot and I’m so not. Which is nonsense. Shoulders back and tits out. I will not let my friend down. Because that’s what we’re becoming—friends. And it’s a beautiful thing.

The bar is on the street level of a boutique hotel. It’s over a hundred and thirty years old and charming as fuck. Everything is painted black apart from the scuffed wooden tables, matching floor, and the distressed mirror behind the bar. Vintage photos and paintings of boats and other seafaring paraphernalia hang on the walls. The place is packed tonight with plenty of familiar faces in the crowd.

And there she is…

Ava poses next to the bar with a drink in hand. Floral tattoos wind up her arm and the skirt of her floaty Grecian-style gown falls all the way to the floor. Her dark hair is in an ornate updo and a collection of fine gold chains hang around her neck. Such main character energy. The way she looks me over with a vague sort of smile. It might be welcoming, or it might be malicious. Odds are on the latter. You’d think she’d be watching him before me. If she really was in love with the man, wouldn’t she focus on him first?

Masseuses will be busy what with all the craning of necks and twisting of heads back and forth between us. It’s like it’s a tennis match. I am tempted to yell foul just for fun.

As anticipated, the differences between Ava and me aren’t subtle. Her body is lithe, her face is beautiful, and her vibe is cool as shit. Add in her being a talented artist and no wonder she held Connor in thrall for all those years. The woman has a confidence that I lack. But she doesn’t know that.

I smile widely and give my fake date’s hand a squeeze. No point delaying. We might as well do what we came here for and give the people what they want. He gives me a nod and we walk toward her as one.

It’s when her attention turns to Connor, however, that things get interesting. Now her smile falters and she seems unsure. Which makes sense given his face is as blank as can be. He’s giving her nothing. We won’t be convincing anyone that he’s happy to be here, though that might not be a bad thing.

Smooth as can be, Connor slips an arm around my shoulders, tucking me in against his body like I belong there. Not an ounce of hesitation. All his earlier reserve is gone. Guess he was right about it coming naturally. An argument could be made against me overthinking every situation. I wrap my arm around his waist and go with it to the best of my abilities.

“Connor.” Her gaze hungrily roams the hard lines of his face. There’s no doubt she’s missed him. But judging by his body language, there’s also no doubt she isn’t getting him back anytime soon. It must hurt. I’d feel bad for her if she hadn’t tried to fuck with me.

He tips his chin. “This is Riley.”

“Hi, Ava.”

She ignores me completely, her gaze glued to the man at my side. “I was hoping you’d come tonight,” she says. “It’s so good to see you.”

Nothing from him. And nothing from anyone else in the room either. They’re all too busy listening.

“I stopped by the garage earlier. I was hoping we could talk,” she continues with a coy smile. Her hand reaches out to touch him but stops just shy of contact. “There’s so much I want to tell you. A lot has changed, babe.”

As designated fake girlfriend, I have every right to get salty. Boundaries are being crossed and then some. But I keep my mouth shut and it’s the right choice. The expression on Connor’s face shifts away from neutral and closer to displeasure with every word she says. By the time she finishes, he’s scowling down at her.

It takes a moment or two, but eventually she starts to squirm. Her gaze hits the floor, and her brows draw together in a look that appears close to confusion. Guess she doesn’t strike out often. But she doesn’t stay down for long. “Connor, please. I still love you. If we could just—”

“No,” he says. And that is all he says.

No one speaks. The whole world seems to hold its breath while Ava stands as still as a statue.

Connor turns to me and asks, “Can I get you a glass of wine or something?”

“Cider would be great,” I say. “Thanks.”

His arm slips from around my shoulders, and he moves farther down the bar to order. Ava has been dismissed and she knows it. Ouch. Though it only takes her a moment to stand tall and smile. “So,” she says, “you do know him, Riley. Who could have guessed?”

“Don’t be a dick. We met after you and I texted, as I am sure you’re aware.”

It takes her a moment to admit, “People in this town like to talk.”

“Yes, they do.”

She fusses with the fine chains around her neck for a moment. Straightens her dress and takes a deep breath. This cannot be easy for her. We’re watching the downfall of a former prom queen in real time. You can see the actual struggle on her face to keep from staring at him again. Though the funny thing is, when she watches Connor, it seems more possessive than appreciative.

But I know that usually only the people in a relationship tend to understand the relationship. How it works and what keeps them together. Or what tears them apart, as the case maybe. But having met her and seen how she behaves, I believe Connor can do better.

“Thanks for the happy snaps,” I say. “You take a hell of a picture.”

She snorts. A moment later she says, “You never sent me any back.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted any.”

Her nose goes up, but nothing is said.

“How was your trip?”

“Long. Lonely.” She takes a sip from her drink. “You do realize he’s just using you to get back at me. To teach me a lesson.”

“Is that what he’s doing?” I glance at him over my shoulder. “In all honesty, he’s so pretty, I don’t mind. Wait. Does that make me shallow?”

“He won’t talk to me. Why else would he show up here with you except to make me jealous?”

“Maybe he’s trying to leave the past behind and move forward. Maybe this is, or was, an attempt at being friends.” The maybes are doing a lot of heavy lifting here. But I’m lying for the good of us all.

She tosses her head in disdain. “Please.”

“Do you want us to leave?”

“No.” Her nostrils flare delicately. “Stay. Both of you—I guess.”

“Such a generous invitation.”

“But you have to know, he’ll come back to me,” she says with nil doubt. “He always has.”

“Yeah. You might have mentioned that a time or two.”

“I just need to be patient. He loves me and we’re perfect together. It will happen.”

I keep my mouth shut and let her talk. She obviously needs to get it out. Just purge the idiocy from her system.

“I hurt his feelings so he’s going to make me work for it. But there’s a bond between us that can’t be broken.” She shoots me a look. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s nothing personal. I mean, you seem like an okay person.”

“Thanks, Ava. That’s big of you. Can I ask a question?”

“What?”

“When was the last time he willingly communicated with you before tonight?”

She discreetly checks on our audience. Some pretend to be engrossed in their own conversation. But most don’t even bother. People in this town are wild. In a quiet voice, she confesses, “Christmas.”

“And he only changed his number last week. Interesting.”

“You make it sound like I’ve been harassing him for half a fucking year. That’s not how it was,” she growls. “He wanted space, and I gave it to him. I only decided to come back for the reunion a couple of weeks ago. That’s when I told him I was coming home and things had changed. That I missed him and wanted to sort things out between us. But he kept leaving me on read.”

“No answer is an answer. You’re old enough to know that.”

“Why am I even talking to you about this?”

“I honestly have no idea. Both of our therapy bills would probably be lower if you didn’t.”

“Anyway…it’s not like things are that great between you two,” she says with a trace of a sneer. “You barely even know each other.”

“It was love at first sight.” I sigh with all the whimsy I have in me. “A magical all-consuming connection you can’t explain. Like the universe wanted us to be together. From the moment we laid eyes on each other it’s been nothing short of amazing.”

“If the universe wanted you to be together so badly, why hasn’t his car been seen parked outside your apartment overnight?”

Shit. “All-nighters during the week in this economy?”

“Like I said, not much of an attraction if it’s so easy to keep your hands off each other.”

“Maybe he blows my back out at his house.”

“Your car hasn’t been seen there either.”

I try to laugh it off, but the sound is hollow and wrong. “How many spies do you have in this town?”

“I’ve lived here my whole life. People care about me. They look out for me.”

“Be nice if they showed Connor the same consideration.”

She pauses. As if she might almost consider his feelings for a moment. But no—it’s just not happening. “As I was saying, I know what he’s like when he’s into someone. He’s insatiable.”

“Shut the door.” My eyes are wide as can be. “You two have done it? He never told me. I feel so betrayed.”

“Make all the jokes you want. But all signs point to your situationship, or whatever it is, not lasting much longer.”

“Okay.”

She looks down the length of her nose at me. “Have a nice night, Riley.”

“You too, Ava.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Fantastic.”

“Stop trying to get the last word,” she hisses. “You’re so immature.”

I wait until she’s taken a step away to say, “Sorry not sorry.”

The dirty look she shoots me. Oof.

A bottle of cider comes into view. The hand holding it, of course, belongs to Connor. “Do I want to know what that was?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Absolutely not.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Though in my defense—she started it.”

His gaze is half amused and half concerned. Like he can’t quite pick an emotion to settle on.

“Thank you,” I say, taking my drink. “Finnriver is my new favorite. Speaking of thirsty, we have a problem.”

“Which is?” he asks, taking a step closer.

We’re still getting our fair share of attention. But at least now some people are smiling and talking and living their own lives. No small amount of scrutiny remains on the woman of the hour, however. They watch her like she’s a star on the red carpet. Beauty and talent tend to shine bright, but it must be a heck of a burden sometimes. She’s huddled on the other side of the room with a group of women, and their heads turn our way on the regular. We are so being discussed.

“Our sex life or lack thereof has been noted,” I say. “How do you feel about a sleepover?”

Before Connor can answer, his brother appears. “Hey,” says Stuart. “Hi, Riley.”

“Didn’t think you were coming,” says Connor.

“Nic got hired to play,” answers Stuart, doing his own version of stoic. It must run in the family. “She made me.”

Connor nods.

“I’m man enough to admit I tried to get out of it by hiding in the woods behind the house, but she found me. Damn her father for teaching her tracking.” Stuart watches the small stage in the corner. His wife is busy setting up a microphone and other equipment. “Mom decided not to attend. Said it would make her too sad, you not being with Ava. But she’s seeing her tomorrow.”

Connor squeezes his eyelids shut for a moment but says nothing. As per usual. He is a virtuoso at keeping it shut down.

“Should I not have said that in front of you?” Stuarts asks me.

I just shrug.

“To be fair, we really did think you and Ava would get back together. You two have been breaking up and making up since you were kids. It’s why I’ve always tried not to say any shit about her that could get awkward later,” says Stuart, so calm and matter-of-fact. “But good for you…you’ve moved on and you’re with someone new. For what it’s worth, Nic and I approve.”

“Thanks,” I say with much doubt.

Still nothing from Connor.

“We have a theory Ava booked Nic to perform to give you as many reasons as possible to make an appearance tonight,” continues Stuart. “She called Grandma too. Tried to sweet-talk her into attending. It didn’t work.”

Connor sighs.

“Hey.” Shanti joins our group with a plate of food in hand. She’s showing off her curves in a green bodycon dress with matching sneakers. “Nic made me come.”

“Me too,” says Stuart.

“She hits one bad note, or I have to make nice with one of the many town fools, and I am out of here.”

“There’s free cheese?” I ask, checking out her appetizers. “This party just got a whole lot better.”

“Table in the corner,” she says. “Try the pickled shrimp. It’s Harold’s specialty.”

“Did Cynthia bring her roasted chickpeas?” asks Stuart.

“Like she’d leave the house without them. I swear she walks around with a jar in her purse at all times.”

“Love those things.” Stuart checks out the room and winces. “We might want to wait until Ava and her posse have moved away from the food.”

A pop song is replaced by the sound of an acoustic guitar being strummed over the sound system. Nicole starts to sing in a voice both sweet and clear. There’re a lot of gossips in this town. But there’re a lot of talented people too.

“Wait.” I cock my head, all the better to hear. “Is that…Toxic by Britney Spears?”

Shanti is too busy holding back laughter to answer.

But Stuart grunts. “Nic was willing to take the money. But she doesn’t appreciate being used as a lure. Her choice of songs will likely reflect that.”

“Thought she and Ava were friends,” says Connor.

“Sure. They’re friendly.” His brother nods. “Up to a point.”

Connor just drinks his drink. There’s no visible sign he approves or disapproves of what his sister-in-law is doing. I am, however, picking up on a discreet vibe of displeasure. Which is interesting. Having people on his side seemed to be his sole desire. Maybe being the subject of so much attention is irritating him. I don’t know.

Loud applause erupts at the end of the first song. Nicole is a talented singer and guitarist with a cool folk music style. No wonder she’s popular. She launches straight into her next song We Are Never Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift.

I blow out a breath. “Savage.”

“I take it back.” Shanti selects an olive off her plate. “This was worth coming for.”

Stuart smiles happily. There’s such love in his eyes when he watches his wife. It’s bone-deep delight, warmth, and adoration all rolled into one. And when Nicole turns his way there’s a light in her eyes that owes nothing to electricity. Imagine being together for so long and still being happy.

My parents were only happy apart. Guess that’s why the idea of happily ever after seems so magical to me. It’s not something I saw a lot of in real life and my own heart has mostly been on ice. No one I’ve dated has gone the distance or made me feel like I had found the one. But there’s plenty of time. In the meantime, I will continue to go where my loins lead me.

Connor moves close enough that there’s barely a hair’s breadth between his front and my back. My skin prickles with awareness. He’s so solid and warm, and I sort of wish this was real. I mean one day, with someone else, of course. There’s no rush. Things are busy enough right now just figuring out where I belong, etcetera.

His breath warms my earlobe when he asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You were frowning.”

“Just some random thought wandering through.”

“Such as?”

I shake my head. My burgeoning crush on him can stay buried forever. That would work best.

A moment later, he asks, “If the offer’s still open, can I crash at your place?”

“Of course.” It’s hard to ignore the swarm of butterflies taking flight in my belly. The thrill that goes through me at the thought of him spending the night. This is absolutely an only one bed situation. But I need to calm the heck down. Nothing is going to happen between us. “I haven’t had a sleepover since I was a teen. We can order food, watch some TV, do whatever.”

He still doesn’t smile. But there is the hint of one in his eyes. Like he isn’t exactly as unhappy as he was before. “Sounds good, Riley.”