I wander up the sidewalk, loving the homes and turning onto the historical street like one of the pamphlets had recommended. Walking by and looking at houses that were centuries old left me feeling very small and insignificant.

  I kept walking, heading toward the bar Cassie had mentioned. The scent of food had my mouth watering and my stomach rumbled uncomfortably. I could go for a burger right now, for sure.

  I find the place and step inside. The smell of burgers and fries hits me hard and warm atmosphere draws me right in. It’s not a posh place, but it’s not a dive bar either. It’s got a few questionable characters hiding in booths, a business guy at the bar drowning his sorrows with hunched shoulders, a few younger people and a few women having some kind of get together celebration.

  Bypassing the bar and booths, I take a seat near the window and studying the view. It’s a lovely town and I’m so excited for tomorrow I can hardly contain myself. This place is across the street from the park and I can watch them set up in real time. Booths are already up and stages are in various stages of completion.

  A woman walks up to me with a little notepad in her hand. “What can I get you?” she asks.

  “Oh! Thanks. Um a burger and a soda.”

  She jots it down and heads off while I keep watching the busy people across the street. I want to ask if she’s excited about it. I want to find someone as hyped for all of this as I am. But as I scan the place, I don’t imagine anyone here is as psyched as I am for the festival.

  And with my band tee shirt I’m sure I look like a beacon for anyone that’s here for the same reason so maybe someone will find me.

  I notice a good looking guy at the bar glance at me. He’s got a soda in front of him and he seems relaxed. I smile and nod at him as his attention drops to my tee shirt.

  The waitress comes back with my food and I thank her. I eat slowly, still watching people work across the street. My game plan is simple. Get up early, head out and try to catch as much as I can. I’m only here for two nights so I have to make every second count.

  Shoving a fry into my mouth, I enjoy the stinging hot salty flavor of it. More people file into the bar and one of them glances at my shirt and scrunches up his face.

  Yeahhhhh! He mouths and I smile and nod. I think my people have finally found me. They go up to the bar and grab drinks, then head for a table a few down from me. Part of me expects them to get up and come bother me, but they seem pretty self-contained and I struggle against my disappointment.

  They’re talking loudly, though, and I’m quickly grateful they decided against sitting with me. I take another bite of my burger. It’s actually amazing. I take out my phone and jot some notes. Might as well really give this whole vacation the attention it deserves. I snap a picture of the whole bar from where I’m sitting, then take a couple out the window where everything is being set up.

  It might be fun to really deep dive the whole place and experience on my blog while giving the magazine the interviews they asked for. Double the content from one trip. Seems like a way to play it smart and really get the most out of this experience.

  The cracking of pool balls makes me jump and I glance over my shoulder. The guy at the bar is looking at the pool table where a couple of guys are talking crap to one another. I grin. This place has soul and I love it.

  The guy at the bar glances at me again and I arch an eyebrow at him. He lifts a shoulder and downs the rest of his drink in one gulp before asking for a refill.

  I take a drink of my soda, still staring at the guy. The raucous laughter a few tables down draws almost all the attention in the place, but I’m still focused on one person. He did look at my shirt. Maybe he’s my people and I just didn’t know it.

  He’s wearing a nice button down shirt and slacks, so I wouldn’t imagine he’d be here for the festival. Then again, he looks pretty young, around my age or a little older. He’s a handsome guy, too, with strong, angular features and deeply set eyes that were awfully intense for his age and relaxed pose.

  His medium brown hair is carefully cut and he has a bit of trimmed scruff, not a full beard. Then those bright blue eyes of his meet mine. Surprised at the sudden excitement that bolts through me, I blink and take a sip of my drink.

  He nods at me, then goes back to his drink while I finish up my burger, trying to figure him out. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s some kind of business guy. He’s dressed too nice for a casual place like this. The scruff on his face looks new. He’s leaning back in his chair paying attention to what’s going on around him. He really looks like he’s trying to loosen up.

  I grab the little red basket my burger and fries were in as well as my drink glass and take them up to the bar. The woman that took my order takes the basket as I dig in my purse for my wallet. I pay and tip her generously before going back to the bar to get a refill.

  I’m standing right next to the mystery guy and I realize his cologne is intoxicating.

  “Could I get a refill, please?” I ask, and the bartender nods.

  “How about a fresh glass?” He smiles and grabs a glass.

  I give him my old one and turn around, staring out the windows at the work being done and lean back against the bar.

  “Pretty exciting,” I say to the guy, who looks up at me, nods, swallows hard and finds his voice.

  “The festival? Yeah, I’m looking forward to it,” he says.

  Chapter 5

  Brandon

  “You’re here for the festival?” she asks, turning toward me as the bartender hands her the drink she’d asked for.

  I nod, taking another drink of mine and meet her wide hazel eyes. Her long dark hair has a hint of red in it, just a bit of fire, just like her eyes.

  “I am,” I say, staring out the window. In just a few short hours, they’ve managed to really get a lot done. I’m impressed.

  “Who are you most excited to see?” she asks, leaning on the bar beside me, glass in hand and eyes on me like I’m the only person in the room. The full weight of her attention ignites something in me and I grin.

  “Honestly?” I ask, glancing at her out of the corner of my eyes like I can read her thoughts.

  She nods. “Honesty is a plus.” Her full lips stretch into a pretty smile that displays even, white teeth that are obviously well cared for.

  “I’m most excited for the bands I don’t know.” As I say the words her eyes light up and I keep going, feeling so much more at ease than I have ever chatting with a stranger. “I love that sense of discovery. Listening to a song and pulling it apart, breaking it down and feeling it while I try to figure out why it makes me think about something new.” I hesitate, stopping the flow of words before embarrassing myself.

  She’s not smiling now and she’s looking out the window at the park and the setup work.

  I sigh a little. “That sounds stupid, I’m sorry.” I chuckle, feeling like an idiot. I mean, she said honesty is a plus, but that was a bit out there.

  “No, not at all,” she says, looking back at me. Her tone sounds excited as she places a hand on my arm. “You are absolutely right. Discovery is the best part of music.” She shrugs her shoulders and scans the area around us before lowering her voice a little bit and continuing. “I misjudged you and I want to say I’m sorry for that.”

  I stare at her, unsure what she means. She gestures to me, her bright grin still firmly in place. “I thought you were some business guy drowning his sorrows after a long day of work at the office.”

  I shake my head. She is too close for comfort, but still so far away I brush off the worry. “Nah, I’m not much of a people person, so this is more to relax me and let me at least feel like I’m doing something social.” I lift my glass.

  “You really are honest, huh?” she asks, shifting her weight and leaning closer to me.

  Again, I shake my head. “Not usually. I play it pretty close to the vest most of the time. But you’re easy to talk to. And I’ve had so much soda I might have a bit of a sugar high. Usually steer clear of anything but water, but thought what the hey. If I was a beer drinker, I’d probably have a buzz.”

  She laughs. The rich sound bounces around my brain for a few moments, leaving a warmth spreading in its wake. It feels good to know she’s laughing at something I said. It’s incredible that she actually seems to like me. And she hasn’t even asked any questions about the brand of my clothing, no questions about what I’m worth, no bragging about how rich she or her parents are. She’s just a down to Earth, normal girl and a beautiful one at that. I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot.

  “I like you,” she says, turning toward the windows again with both elbows planted on the bar behind her.

  “That’s good to know. At least someone does,” I joke and she giggles.

  Her voice is full of laughter as she speaks. “My new friend, you just murdered yourself with words and you really didn’t need to.”

  “You laughed, I got what I wanted,” I say, tipping my imaginary hat to her.

  It feels good to poke fun at myself. It feels even better to be so honest, even behind the guise of humor. Because it’s true; I’m not sure there’s a single person in my life that actually likes me for who I am and not what I have or what I can offer.

  And she’d called me her new friend. I’d made a friend. Even as I mentally celebrate, I also feel like a fool. A pathetic fool. At twenty-six I have to admit I have no true friends. Not until now, at least. I knew things were bad in my life, but this is beyond bad.

  I want to ask if she means it, but I don’t want to sound like a six-year-old making a friend for the first time.

  “I noticed you were taking pictures,” I say, wanting her to talk more about herself.

  She nods, a slight blush turning her cheeks pink. “I was. I am actually here for work and the festival, too. I’m going to be interviewing bands, reviewing them, and writing a blog on it.”

  “That’s your job?” I ask, impressed. I’d never met a writer or blogger before. It seems like it would be a free, fun lifestyle to just travel and write about the things you see.

  “Well, not quite job,” she says, staring down into her glass. “My turn for complete honesty, huh?” she says with a little laugh.

  “I guess so,” I say, wanting to hear more about her.

  “I mean, I’m not unemployed or anything—”

  I touch her arm this time, cutting the flow of words streaming from her lips. Her eyes meet mine, then drop to my hand on her arm, her pretty lips parting like she’s struggling to find the words to continue.

  “I wouldn’t care if you were unemployed,” I say with all the honesty I can muster. “Your worth isn’t defined by what you make or how much money you have.”

  The conviction in my voice is backed by all the years I’ve felt this way but couldn’t vocalize it. I’ve never thought that my worth as a human being should be equated to the money in my bank account. It’s sad to see this way of thinking is pervasive even among folks that aren’t rich.

  She can’t seem to find the words and gives me the barest hint of a nod. “Okay,” she says softly. She seems stunned and blinks once. Twice. Then the corners of her lips twitch and she smiles wide for me. “Okay.” She sounds like she means it this time. There’s no hint of the unsure tone she’d had before. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.” Even as she beams at me, I feel the wonder behind her words.

  “You’re welcome,” I say, finishing my drink. I’m feeling happy being in her presence. Warmth coats my skin like honey and the sounds and smells of the bar are all welcoming. But not as welcoming as she is.

  “Before I forget,” she says, turning to me once more, “I want to give you my number.”

  My pulse jumps and I notice her heartbeat thudding at the base of her throat. She wants my number. I’d say this is going well.

  “Sure,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “Shoot.”

  She rattles off her number while the bartender offers me a refill. I take it with a nod as she settles into the seat beside me.

  “Name?” I ask her.

  She laughs. “Oh, my gosh, we didn’t even introduce ourselves.” She thrusts her hand at me. “I’m Jessie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Brandon,” I say, shaking her hand. Her grip is firm, yet her skin is super soft. The contradiction leaves me craving more. “The pleasure is mine.”

  She shakes her head a little bit. “I was hoping to make new friends,” she says wistfully. “This is nice.”

  “Me too.” It feels great to be so open and candid with her, even though I’m on guard. There are things I won’t tell her, of course, because well… reasons.

  “My best friend is getting married,” she says, sounding a bit down all of a sudden.

  I take a gulp of my soda, wishing it was something stronger and tired of the sugary sweetness. “Not happy about that, huh?” I ask and her head jerks up as her pretty eyes study my face.

  “I’m happy for them,” she says, but sighs. “I’m not happy to lose my best friend, no. Most of my other friends don’t like the same music I do or aren’t open to new music. Some couldn’t get time off work to come, some couldn’t afford the trip.” She’s staring down at the bar and then she blinks and looks up. “So I’m here alone. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

  “I didn’t have a single friend I could ask to come with me,” I say and she glances over at me. I lift my shoulders. “I don’t really have good friends. They’re all superficial and I keep them in their own little box. Away from the actual me.”

  “You win,” she says, clinking her glass to mine. “You’re definitely more pathetic.” The smile on her face takes the sting out of the words.

  “I’m not sad about it,” I say and I notice I have her attention again.

  “Oh no?” she ask.

  “Nope. It means I can just be myself. I don’t have to keep up appearances like I’d have to if they were here.”

  She nods. “So this is more like an escape for you, then.” It all seems to make sense to her and surprisingly, I realize she’s right.

  “Exactly.”

  “That must be hard,” she says softly.

  “Not really. You get used to it. But it makes me appreciate conversations like this a whole lot more,” I say, nodding at her. Outside I see twilight beginning to darken the world even though the workers across the street are still working hard to get everything set up. Even in the last hour the progress is obvious.

  “I’ve appreciated it too,” she says in a voice so quiet I almost miss the words. “To be honest I was feeling a bit lonely.”

  “I thought the gaggle of loud kids was going to sit with you,” I say.

  She laughs. “Me too! And they weren’t kids, I think they were my age.”

  I shake my head. “Unless you’re sixteen – which you may be, I guess – then no way.”

  “I’m not sixteen,” she says, giving me a look like she thinks I’m trying to pull one over on her. “I’m twenty-three, but you could have just asked. You didn’t have to get all cute and say I look super young.”

  “I would have asked if you gave me another second,” I tease. “But you do look young. Twenty-three makes sense. But they were kids, I’m sure of it.”

  She dips her head. “Maybe you’re right. How old are you, anyway?”

  “Twenty-six. Want me to lose your number?” I ask.

  “Why? I mean, it’s three years. We’re fine. Don’t have a cow old man.” She laughs and I shake my head with a grin. “Besides, I’m pulling the old card,” she says with a yawn she covered with both hands. Must have been a big one since it took two hands, and I could have sworn I heard her jaw pop. “I’ve got to head in and get some sleep.”

  “Big day tomorrow,” I say and she nods.

  “Yep, have to get up super early and make it to the festival before it all starts.” She goes ridges and vibrates with controlled excitement and a strange near squeal stays trapped in her throat. She’s so darn cute I want to pull her into my arms and squeeze her. But I keep my hands to myself.

  “Well, I hope to see you tomorrow,” I say, sad that our time is coming to an end.

  “You will!” she says in a bright voice. “Text me so I have your number and I’ll hit you up, okay?”

  I pulled out my phone again and sent her a text. Her phone chimes and my self-doubt, the worry she’d given me a fake number, and that I’d never hear from her again melts away.

  “Thanks!” she says, staring at her phone as her thumbs travel over the screen. “Okay, added you to my contacts. It was great meeting you! Talk to you tomorrow!” she pulls me into a hug and I freeze, then hug her back.

  Her sweet scent fills my senses and her soft hair tickles my face as she pulls away. “Good night,” I tell her as she finishes her soda and drops cash on the bar for a tip to the bartender.

  “Good night,” she says before heading for the door. I watch her go. I’m still thrilled by everything that’s happened. I hoped for this, yes, but I wasn’t sure it would actually happen. And especially not this quickly.

  It’s amazing to think that I’m not good at talking to strangers, but she’d made me feel so at ease and comfortable I’d not only been able to talk to her but to share some personal things about myself. It was a genuine connection, a real conversation and I feel amazing. Like I can take on the world.

  Looking down at the diluted soda in my glass, I sat, staring out the window at the work across at the park.

  My phone vibrates and I pull it out. It’s a text from Jessie. Hey stranger, thanks again. I really enjoyed myself tonight. You seem like a great guy and I look forward to catching up with your tomorrow.

  Who dis? I text back.

  She texts back some laughing faces and I grin. I like making her laugh. I love how easily amused she is, that my silly sense of humor seems to tickle her just the right way.

  I really enjoyed myself too, I text. You’re pretty awesome. You know, for an unemployed loser.

  Take that back! She texts, followed by several laughing faces.

  Make me.

  I will! Tomorrow. I’ll get even.

 

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