stutter. “Can I sit at the bar?”
“Sure. Head on over.” She waves a hand toward the large L shaped bar to my right.
“Thanks,” I mutter, voice soft.
Ducking my head, I scurry over to the bar and find an empty seat near the end. My heart is pounding like I’m doing something illicit and dangerous instead of literally sitting at a bar. Gotta love anxiety.
It’s a few minutes before the bartender makes it over to me. He sets a coaster in front of me, cocking his head to the side. “What can I get you?”
I wet my lips, fingering the menu that was perched on the bar. “Um, what would you suggest that’s non-alcoholic?”
He chuckles. “Do you trust me?”
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t know you.”
“Do you like lemonade?”
“Yeah,” I hesitate, not sure where he’s going with this.
“I have an idea. If it’s gross don’t worry about it. I’ll make you something else.”
“Okay … sure.”
He laughs again at my obvious discomfort and goes to concoct something for me.
Tapping my fingers against the counter, I eye the menu trying to hurry up and decide what I want for dinner so I can let him know when he comes back.
When he returns, he slides the glass in front of me, the drink a pale blue color with blueberries floating in the glass.
“I thought you said lemonade?”
“It has lemonade.” He gives a tiny grin of amusement. “Try it.”
I tentatively lift it to my lips and take the tiniest sip possible. “Mmm,” I hum. “That’s actually really good.”
“I’m glad. You want something to eat?”
“Uh…” Stop saying Uh and Um for the love of God. “I’ll have the personal size pepperoni pizza.”
“Cool, I’ll put that right in.”
My heart continues to hammer in my chest, and I can’t help but feel pathetic for being so nervous to eat at a restaurant on my own. I’m okay with my own company at home so why not in public too? It’s the most tiresome thing in the world overthinking and feeling uncomfortable in public settings. But this is why I have to do this. I won’t ever be okay with it if I don’t do it.
Tracing my finger over a whorl in the wood top I try to be present and not grab for my phone like I so desperately want to.
Stop hiding, Emilia.
The barstool beside me is pulled back by a large hand, the legs scraping against the polished floor.
The man sits down, his eyes scanning me all the way from my toes to the tippy top of my head and back again. A shiver goes down my spine and not the good kind. I instantly feel uncomfortable and I don’t know whether it’s my intuition or the entire situation that has me on edge, but I pray he’s normal and I can enjoy my meal in peace.
He signals for the bartender and orders some fancy sounding beer. A wedding ring glints on his left finger and I blow out a relieved breath. He’s married. Harmless.
The bartender returns with his drink, setting it in front of him and shoots me a smile. “Your pizza is almost ready.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, making myself as small as I can because I’d swear the man beside me is edging closer. He has his legs spread way more than necessary and if I was more brazen I’d shove his leg back with mine.
He asks the man if he wants to order any food and the man merely shakes his head in response.
As soon as the bartender walks away, I see the stranger beside me angle his head in my direction. If I turn to my right I’m met with a wall, which means I can’t easily ignore him.
Married, I remind myself. He’s married, he’ll be fine.
“You look nervous.”
I whip my head in his direction. “Nervous?” I repeat.
He laughs, a cocky smile overtaking his face. “You don’t need to be nervous.” His eyes do that lazy rake over me again that makes me feel dirty despite how thoroughly I scrubbed my body tonight.
I ignore him, finally caving into the desire to look at my phone. Unfortunately, there’s no missed call or even a text I can respond to.
“I haven’t seen you hanging out here before,” he continues despite my obvious desire not to talk to him.
“Just moved,” I mumble.
“Huh?” He leans in closer, snapping a piece of gum.
“I just moved here,” I repeat a little louder this time.
“Hmm.” He takes a sip of beer, gum still in his mouth. I’m not beer connoisseur, if