“You scared the crap out of me,” I joke.
“What was that all about?” she asks. “It looked serious.”
“I… I actually got a promotion,” I admit to her, my smile never waning. “It’s weird to say it out loud.” Oh my gosh, I got a promotion. It’s my first ever. I’m still in disbelief.
“What?” she asks, standing straighter. “Promotion to what?”
“They need someone to manage the project desk,” I answer her, turning in my chair to face her fully and finally breathing normally.
“No way! I thought Melanie was going to run the project desk.”
She looks and sounds… pissed. It takes a second to realize that. She’s not at all happy for me. The deep crease in the center of her forehead and scowl on her face give that away. She can’t even pretend to be happy for me? I swallow, feeling the high die down and answer her, “Well, apparently not. They just offered it to me.”
“Congrats! Seriously, that’s awesome.” Although her words are kind... and rushed, her expression and tone are still off.
“Thanks.” I smile and try to shrug it off.
“We should go celebrate later! Go out, grab some drinks.” Her fun side comes back, and for a second I think I imagined her original reaction.
I must have. She may be obnoxious at times, but I think about it, then decide what the hell.
“Sure. Maybe we could go to that bar with the awesome Mexican food?” I offer.
“Sarita’s? Yeah, girl. And then we can make our way to Mac’s.”
I go silent, but nod. Charlie said he wants me to come to keep up appearances, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to do it. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to play games anymore.
“What?” Diane asks. “You don’t want to go to Mac’s?”
“I was just thinking somewhere else would be nice to let loose,” I answer her, but even to me it sounds like a lie. My heart hurts just thinking about it.
“Is it because of Charlie? Oh my God, did you two break up?”
“Jesus, Diane!” I say, lowering my voice and looking around. “Not everything is about Charlie.”
“You did! You totally broke up,” Diane says, a hint of glee evident in her eyes.
“For your information, there was nothing to break up. We were having fun. Leave it alone Diane.” I wish I could reach out and snatch my words back. It hurts to say it out loud.
“Were?” she questions and I’ve had it.
“I said leave it alone.” My tone reflects my anger.
“Oh,” she says. It’s hard to read what she’s really thinking. “Well, alright. Let’s go to the bar with the Mexican food, then.”
“Fine,” I say, on edge. I’d rather be angry than anything else. So I cling to that emotion although I think I’m only angry at myself. “I have a lot of work I need to finish first.”
“I guess that’s why you got the promotion,” she says, with a tight smile. “I’ll be back at six to bug you, though.”
She disappears behind her side of the wall. I’m left trying to decide if I should feel bad for snapping at her.
I slip on my headphones and sink into my work, refusing to think about any of this mess of a love life anymore. Well I try. But that doesn’t work. All I can think about is Charlie and how Diane is right. We’re over. Break up, labels or whatever. It’s over.
Charlie
I’m about two seconds away from texting Grace when she walks through the front door of the bar. About fucking time.
I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning, the morning after the wedding.
She’s still in her work clothes, but her hair is down and swishing around her shoulders as she walks in.
A feminine screech echoes through the bar behind her, and Grace turns to look over her shoulder.
“We’re finally here!” Diane’s with her, and my expression falls. I don’t understand how the two of them are friends. I stay behind the bar and move to the far left, where Grace usually sits and where the dishwasher is. My eyes flicker up and I watch the two of them as I get to work. Diane stumbles slightly and talks a bit too loud. A few customers turn to watch them walk in, but then they go right back to what they were doing before.
“I love this place,” Diane says, dragging Grace by the hand. Grace lets her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and seemingly not wanting to come over to me. I don’t like it, and I don’t understand it in the least.
Diane’s quick to sit on the barstool at the far end. Grace’s stool.
I don’t pay her any attention, waiting for Grace to look at me. When she finally does, I can see the same worry there that was on her face at the wedding before she looks away again. That sick feeling of anxiety washes through me. What the hell do I need to do to make her happy?
Make it official.
I grab a glass and wipe it down with a drying cloth as Grace takes a seat.
“Hey there,” I speak up, waiting for her gaze to meet mine.
“Hey,” her voice is soft. She desperately needs more. She needs a title: girlfriend. For real. My body heats at the thought, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll give it to her. I’ll make it real and let the world know. Ever
