Do you want a reย ll?โ
I smile and say, โSure,โ to the waitress, even though I know I donโt need a reย ll. I should just leave, but thereโs still a small part of me that hopes Lydia will show up. Surely she didnโt forget.
I debate whether or not to text her again. Sheโs over an hour late and Iโm sitting here, pathetically waiting, hoping I donโt get stood up.
Not that sheโs theย rst person to stand me up.ย at award goes to Owen Mason Gentry.
I should have known. I should have been prepared for it.ย at entire night with him seemed too good to be true, and the fact that I havenโt heard from him after three solid weeks only proves that my decision to forgo guys was a smart one.
It still stings, though. It hurts like hell because when he walked out my door thatย ursday night, I felt so hopeful. Not just about meeting him, but because it made me think Texas wouldnโt be all that bad. I thought maybe for once, things were going to go my way and karma was going to cut me some slack.
As much as it hurt to realize he was full of shit, being stood up by Lydia hurts a little bit more than being stood up by Owen, because at least Owen didnโt stand me up on my birthday.
How could she forget?
I wonโt cry. I wonโt do it. Iโve shed enough tears over that woman and sheโs not causing any more.
e waitress is back at the table, reย lling my drink. My nonalcoholic drink.
Iโm drinking a pathetic soda, sitting alone in a restaurant, being stood up for the second time this month, and itโs my twenty-ย rst birthday.
โIโll take the bill,โ I say, defeated.ย e waitress gives me a look of pity as she lays the bill on the table. I pay it and leave.
I hate that I still have to walk past his studio on my way home from work. Or in this case, on my way home from being stood up. Sometimes the light is on in his apartment upstairs and I get the urge to set the place onย re.
Not really.ย atโs a little bit harsh. I wouldnโt burn his beautiful art. Just him.
When I reach his building, I stop and stare at it. Maybe itโs worth walking an extra block or two from now on, just so Iโll never have to pass it again. Before I reroute myself, maybe I should leave a confession. Iโve been wanting to leave one for three weeks and tonight everything has lined up perfectly for me toย nally be pissed enough to do so.
I walk to the front door of his building and stare at the slot while I reach inside my purse and pull out a pen. I donโt have any paper, so I dig around until Iย nd the receipt from the fantastic birthday dinner I just shared with myself. Iย ip it over and press the receipt to the window and begin my confession.
I met this really great guy three weeks ago. He taught me how to dance, reminded me of what it feels like to ๏ฌirt, walked me home, made me smile, and then YOUโRE AN ASSHOLE, OWEN!
I press the button on the end of the pen to retract it. I put it back in my purse. Oddly enough, getting that out on paper actually made me feel a little better. I begin to fold the receipt butย atten it back out and retrieve my pen in order to add another sentence.
PS: Your initials are so stupid.
Much better. I slip the confession through the slot before I give myself enough time to think it through. I take a few steps away from the building and bid it farewell.
I turn toward my apartment and my phone sounds o๏ฌ. I pull it out and open my text.
Lydia:ย Sorry! I got sidetracked and itโs been such a crazy day. I hope you didnโt wait long. Heading back to Pasadena in the morning, but youโll be at dinner Sunday, right?
I read the text and all I can think is, Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.
Iโm so immature. But come on, she couldnโt even tell me happy birthday? God, my heart hurts.
I begin to put the phone back into my pocket when it sounds o๏ฌย again. Maybe she remembered it was my birthday. At least sheโll feel a little guilty about it. Maybe I shouldnโt have called her a bitch.
Lydia:ย Next time, remind me before Iโm supposed to be there. You know I have my hands full.
Bitch, bitch, bitch, bigย hugeย bitch.
I clench my teeth and scream out of frustration. I canโt win with her. Iโll never win with her.
I canโt believe Iโm about to do this, but I need a drink. An alcoholic drink. And lucky for me, I know just where to get one.
 |
โYou lied.โ
Harrison is looking at my ID.
I assume he just noticed that today is my birthday and I wasnโt at all twenty-one when I walked in here with Owen theย rst time.
โOwen made me.โ
Harrison shakes his head and hands me back my ID. โOwen does a lot of things Owen shouldnโt do.โ He wipes down the bar between us and tosses the rag aside, but Iโm hoping heโll elaborate on that comment. โSo whatโll it be, Ms. Reed? Jack and Coke again?โ
I immediately shake my head. โNo thanks. Something a little less assaulting.โ
โMargarita?โ I nod.
He turns around to make myย rst legally ordered alcoholic beverage. I hope he puts one of those tiny umbrellas in it.
โWhereโs Owen?โ he asks.
I roll my eyes. โDo I look like Owenโs keeper? Heโs probably inside Hannah.โ
Harrison spins around, wide-eyed. I shrug o๏ฌย my insult and he laughs before returning his attention to my drink. When heโsย nished making it, he sets it on the bar in front of me. I begin to frown, but he reaches to his right, plucks an umbrella out of a jar, and places it in the drink. โSee how you like this one.โ
I bring the margarita to my lips and lick the salt o๏ฌย rst, then take a sip. My eyes light up, because this is so much better than the shit Owen ordered for me. I nod and motion for him to go ahead and make me another one.
โWhy donโt youย nish that oneย rst,โ he suggests.
โAnother one,โ I say, wiping my mouth. โItโs my birthday and Iโm a responsible adult who wants two drinks.โ
His shoulders rise with his intake of breath and he shakes his head, but he does what I ask. Which is a good thing, because as soon as heย nishes making my second one, Iโm ordering a third one. Because I can. Because itโs my birthday and Iโm all alone, and Portland is way on top of the country and Iโm way down here, all the way at the bottom, andย Owen Mason Gentry is a huge asshole!
And Lydia is a bitch.
