AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Two
“Well,” Julia paused, voices fading into the background, wishing she had more time. “I should go home and get ready for work in the morning.” But I don’t want to.
“It is morning.”
Julia’s dusty eyes settled on hers and suddenly they were both swept up–into what she wasn’t sure–their gaze lingering as the sound of the clock ticked so subtly in their ears. Then the moment was gone completely as Greg hurried past them down the bar.
Julia didn’t get up yet. Instead, she swallowed the rest of her freshly refilled drink, the cold liquor burning as it trickled down. For once, she was okay with the fact she would be dog-gone tired in the morning. Sitting there and chatting about nearly nothing with Erin was better than sleepless tossing throughout the night.
She took a moment to stomp down a thought in the back of her head that it would be nice to do whatever this was again. She tried to map the twinkle in Erin’s eyes to remember later, to remind herself that it existed somewhere. If she found her laugh, her smile, again in Erin’s presence, then it was a map she’d want to laminate and hang from every ceiling to memorize.
Erin slipped down from her stool and placed a hand on Julia’s lower back as she spoke. “I’m going to use the restroom before heading out.”
Her touch was soft even through the material of Julia’s shirt. Her fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary. Or did they? Julia felt like she was losing her mind, overthinking or maybe even under-thinking each touch. Someone she was sure could be half her age and twice as gorgeous, twice as captivating, couldn’t possibly be content in her company. But yet… yet? There was something in that twinkle of her eyes, the brush of her fingertips.
“That’s actually a good idea!” Julia stood, ignoring the fleeting panic she felt a moment ago. “I have a bit of a drive home.”
As she stood, the weight of her body sunk to her feet. Sitting down, she felt barely buzzed. While standing? All she could focus on was the haze settling over her forehead.
No, it wasn’t just a buzz; she was teetering on the brink of drunkenness, and she did not get drunk on Thursday nights. She did not get drunk in general. That would mean releasing control, and Julia did not like to let go of that.
Yet there she was, sitting next to a beautiful woman she never met before and not realizing how fast she was drinking to break the awkwardness that she knew was herself. She tried to fade into the noise of the bar–the way a tack disappears into patterned wallpaper–but it didn’t work.
As both of her feet touched the ground, her left foot prickled with tiny pins that traveled up her sleeping leg. Her knee buckled and the rest of her body followed, tumbling downward in a liquid avalanche. She was about to collapse to the floor in a tequila fueled mess when Erin reached out with one arm, barely catching her around the waist as she braced the stool.
“I didn’t realize how long I was sitting there!” Julia laughed, because it was the only thing she could think of to do.
Erin smelled so sugary and soft with warmth. Julia leaned just an inch closer than she had to, her face mere inches from Erin’s, soaking up every note of that cashmere that tickled her nose hairs. Her stray blonde hair covered her face as she lifted her head and caught Erin’s eyes.
Erin’s right arm still wrapped around her, the other on the front of her hip and oh, Julia knew she was in trouble when she wished those strong fingers could have stayed longer.
“You don’t seem like the type of person to get drunk on a weekday,” Erin remarked with a giggle, pinkness blushing her cheeks.
Despite being slightly shorter, their eyes met at the same level as Julia leaned into her embrace. Their eyes were still locked on each other as if they weren’t standing in the middle of a crowded room. If she wanted to make an even bigger fool of herself, Julia could sink into those intrusive thoughts and kiss the dreamy stranger.
No, no, no. Being lonely does not equate to kissing random women who are just being nice.
“My foot must have fallen asleep,” Julia whispered instead, her eyes flickering between those green pools and her plump lips.
“I can help you to the bathroom,” Erin offered, her smile diverting Julia’s gaze. “I’m such a klutz that I could fall up a flight of stairs.”
How could she make something so embarrassing so nonchalant? Why did her smile melt Julia’s stress away like a warm knife over butter?
She pulled herself up on her own, releasing Erin regretfully. “It’s feeling better,” Julia sighed, rubbing her face in an attempt to push the fog away. “I feel like this week can’t get any worse.” Her voice seemed more of a whine than anything else, and suddenly she found herself wanting to crawl into a deep dark hole, far away from any other conversation for the foreseeable future.
“That means it can only get better,” Erin’s voice echoed faintly as Julia looked up to see her already halfway towards the bathroom.
She glanced around the room and noticed that the bar was nearly empty, dutiful patrons venturing out into the snow-covered street. Greg floated up and down the countertop, his partially unbuttoned shirt flowing with each movement wiping spills, humming a tune that sounded like Adele.
A young couple leaned in towards each other, all googly and doe eyed, an obvious new blooming relationship. Then, there were the usual older men, heads facing down towards their whiskeys, waiting for the moment they’d be kicked out and forced to deal with their complacent lives again. Julia strolled by all of them, finding it increasingly hard to walk a straight line. She couldn’t recall the last time she allowed herself to let go so much, the last time she enjoyed the company of someone else.
There was something pleasant in the fog. She was fully aware everything was exactly the same; nothing magically got better, but her shoulders felt a little lighter. She could leave some of what she was carrying on that sticky floor and never look back. For a moment, she found a glimmer of hope that somewhere within her, her old self survived the breaking.
She made her way to the wooden split door that said ladies haphazardly in a drunk man’s handwriting. Pushing against the grain, the door swung open. And there, just five feet in front of her, stood Erin.
Her back was pressed against the counter, hands gripping the edge. Coffee-colored hair twirled flawlessly over her shoulders, her lips curved upwards into a smile. She looked like she was waiting for something to happen–something to fall out of the crisp air and land in her curvy lap.
She looked so young; young enough to have been carded for that wine, Julia was sure. But it wasn’t a naïve kind of young. It was the kind of young that classic Jane Austen novels make you dream about, wishing you could go back and do it all again, wishing tomorrow would never come.
