Tonight, the tables are all but full with patrons ranging in every age group and demographic. Even the area reserved for large parties is bustling with a group of screaming kids with baseball hats. The chaos is just what I need to lift my mood and keep me from going home and overanalyzing this thing with Walker until I’m ready to cry like the girl I’m not. Like the girl I refuse to be.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, running a finger around the rim of her glass.
“Not without more wine.”
“I should’ve known something was wrong when you already had a glass sitting there when I walked in.”
Motioning to Chester as he looks up from the table he’s cleaning, I gesture for two more glasses of white wine and then turn my attention back to Delaney.
She wastes no time getting to the point. “How was it?”
“We really need to separate this into ‘sex’ and ‘after sex,’” I say and then take another bite of my dinner.
“Let’s start with sex.”
“Unforgettable,” I offer. “Amazing. I’ve never felt so . . . catered to. Does that make sense?”
“It makes me jealous.”
I fall back in my seat. “You know how sex can be almost transactional? Like you’re with a guy and it’s hot and then it’s over and there’s really nothing there. You might sleep with him again, but it’s an exchange of an orgasm.”
“Yes. And for one, I appreciate those.”
“I have nothing against them,” I tell her. “But this . . . I don’t know. It just felt like there was a connection. He kissed me, you know? A lot. Touched me. Caressed me, even. It wasn’t just fireworks and explosions. There were moments that felt like . . . moments.” I look at my wine glass and wish it were full already.
“I don’t see the need for all the wine,” she points out.
“Because we haven’t gotten to ‘after sex’ yet.” My fork hits my plate with a clatter. “You know what he said to me? He said, ‘Now you leave.’”
The words sound as harsh coming from me as they did from him but hearing them the second time just makes me angrier.
“He did what?” she exclaims.
“You heard me right,” I laugh. “He told me it was time for me to go. Fucking asshole.”
“Who’s an asshole?” Chester sets two glasses of wine on the table. With his white-blond hair, bright blue eyes, and thin frame, he’s the polar opposite of Walker. Still, he’s charismatic and handsome in a metrosexual kind of way and someone I’ve found minorly attractive. Until now. Now, nothing is even presentable if he’s not wearing a black t-shirt and a scowl.
“So, asshole?” he repeats.
Delaney gives me a sideways glance. “Do you know Walker Gibson?”
“Lives over in Linton, right?” Chester asks. “Runs a car shop or something?”
“That’s him,” she confirms.
“I don’t know Walker personally, but his brother, Machlan, the one who owns the bar over there—he and I were in school at the same time. He’s mean as hell,” he laughs. “A good guy, I think. I’ve never had an issue with him. But I’ve seen him in a few situations that I was really, really glad I wasn’t on the other end of his fury, you know?”
“But what kind of guy is Walker?” Delaney presses. “Would you want your little sister dating him?”
“I don’t know much about him like that,” he says. “Why? Is he the asshole?”
“No,” I say, injecting myself into the conversation. God knows what Delaney might say. “We just saw him the other night and were wondering about him. That’s all.”
“Well, I’m not an asshole. Just for the record,” Chester winks.
As he scampers off, I look across the room. The kids are thinning out from the pizza party, just a few adults and colorful balloons left behind. I’m turning away when my eyes lock on Peck’s. He’s leaning over the bannister, a hat matching the kids’ on his head, his hands locked in front of him. An inquisitive look is painted on his face before he turns his attention to a kid jumping up and down, tugging on his shirt.
My stomach drops, not wanting to deal with any more Gibson boys tonight.
Giving him a little wave, I face Delaney and down half of the fresh glass of wine.
“Whoa,” she says, eyes wide. “What’s that about?”
“Peck is over there,” I mumble, hoping he’s not still watching and can’t read lips. “I can’t deal with any more of them tonight.”
“Heya, Slugger.” Peck’s at my side before I know what’s happening, scooting himself into the booth beside me like we’re old friends. “What’s happening?”
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
He laughs in his easy way, running a hand through his floppy hair. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Having dinner with Delaney,” I say, nodding across the table. “Delaney, this is Peck. I know y’all met the other night, but, you know, we’re all here, sober, so . . .”