rip my phone out of her hands. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
After she pushes me for twenty minutes, I eventually break down and tell her everything from how he showed up here grumpy, to us arguing the entire drive to Richmond, the night at the cabin, followed by the wedding. I eventually give in and fill in the blanks from the weekend of his dad’s funeral, too, going back to when it all started.
By the time I’m done spilling it all, I feel like the weight on my chest is ten times lighter. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to just talk to someone about everything on my mind.
“We need to get you back out on the dating scene, girlfriend. You know what they say, the best way to get over one dick is to get under another.”
I burst out laughing. I’m not sure that’s the exact saying, but it works.
We end up ordering pizza and scrolling through the new shows hitting Netflix, settling on the new season of Ozark.
The days leading up to New Year’s Eve are uneventful. Whiskey Barrel, despite still being busy during the week, doesn’t have our normal crowd. Campus has been quiet, so I can only assume the changes in the crowds have to do with students not returning home.
When Thursday rolls around, I spend more time getting ready, dressing up in my black and gold Whiskey Barrel t-shirt. I curl my hair, pulling the top half up into a messy bun, leaving the rest down. It’s going to be hot working behind the bar, and I’ll want it out of my face.
It’s not even nine o’clock when Jimmy, the bouncer, tells us we’ve hit capacity. A Rebels Havoc isn’t even set to take the stage for another twenty minutes, and the place is packed. I lose track of time once the band starts. I’m in the zone, doing all I can just to stay on top of the orders.
I step into the back, needing to restock the ice when I notice a man leaning against the wall opposite me. His foot is perched beneath him, dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans and a white t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket.
I stop to look, but when my eyes catch the sight of his sharp jaw, I do a double-take, realizing it’s Merric.
My mouth waters at the sight of him. The Merric I’ve come to know has always been dressed like he’s about to head into a business meeting. This side of him looks like he’s ready to shed his jacket and jump on stage with the band.
“What are you doing here?” I shout over the music.
It’s hard to make out his words over the crowd of people. I don’t have time to talk. We have four bartenders working the front bar tonight. I’d be leaving them in a bind if I were gone too long.
I huff, stepping in close to hear him over the music. It’s a bad idea, though.
The woodsy smell of Merric mixed with leather is intoxicating. It takes everything in me not to pull him closer and lick him.
“What are you doing here?” I repeat. “I’m busy right now, so whatever this is about, it’s going to have to wait until I’m off.”
“Okay…” He nods. “Then I’ll wait.”
My eyes narrow into slits, shaking my head in confusion.
“I probably won’t be off for another couple hours, so…” I trail off.
You’re wasting your time. I complete the sentence in my head, although I wish I knew why he’s here.
“I’m not in any hurry. If I must wait, then I’ll wait.”
Jayde whistles at me from behind. When I turn to look at her, she holds her finger in the air, signaling for me to wrap it up.
“I gotta go,” I mutter. “I can’t do this right now.”
Against my better judgment, I look back at Merric, finding his eyes trailing down my body before snapping up to meet mine.
I sigh, shaking my head. It’s hard to get a good look at his face from where he’s standing. The disappointment and hurt I’ve tried to bury over the past couple of weeks stirs in my chest.
I don’t think I’m ready for whatever brought him here tonight.
Chapter Eight
“I got a place for the night. I was hoping you’d come stay with me?”
Merric is leaning against the side of Whiskey Barrel. It’s probably close to two thirty now. Most of the cars in the parking lot have since left, except for a few, which I assume