CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HOLLY

 

The bruise around my eye had started to get better—and by better, I mean it was garish and a lovely shade of brown. According to Google, this was an obvious sign of it healing, and that it wouldn’t go through any other color transformations; instead, it was now going to fade away until it was gone. But according to me, it was just as hideous as it was when it was red and blackish purple.

And while its appearance was apparently looking better, the pain of having a broken eye socket hadn’t improved much in a little more than a week’s time. I mean, I guess the constant throbbing had started to subside a little—but still, it was a broken bone, for crying out loud, and I wasn’t blessed with supernatural healing powers.

What I was blessed with, however, was a date with Ben, the buddy Mark had distastefully mentioned to me on that fateful day when his daughter cracked my face. So, I guess in a way, he owed me.

Liz had known exactly who the buddy in question was, and she seemed excited enough for me to go out with him. But when she asked what had suddenly changed my mind, I neglected to tell her that my romance novels were starting to get the better of me at Story Time. Making me feel things I wasn’t wanting to feel for friends and all that. So instead, I told her that I was ready to get back in that saddle again, and I guess it wasn’t entirely a lie.

With a date coming up and a fresh desire to look like a human being and less like an extra on The Walking Dead, I talked Liz and Esther into going out with me to get our hair done. It wasn’t difficult to twist Liz’s arm, but Esther was a whole other story with her insisting that Harry was fine with her looking like an old used Q-tip.

“Come on, Esther,” I had pleaded, “don’t you think your creepy ghost husband would love to see you with a new ‘do?” She did begrudgingly agree to going, but only for a trim and nothing more.

Liz and I had gotten our hair colored; a lightened blonde with honey highlights for Liz and a deep auburn for me, giving my already dark hair a nice reddish hue. Esther was left to badger the receptionist about the offensive smell of the place. Liz and I exchanged mortified glances, listening to our friend threaten to call her attorney to question him about elder abuse. Luckily, she refrained from calling any lawyers and once we all sat to get our haircuts, her crabbiness changed to something sort of resembling excitement.

“Esther, you look adorable,” Liz cooed, admiring the poufy pixie Esther’s wispy hair had been cut into.

“Oh, knock it off. Old people hate being called adorable, like we’re fucking kittens or something,” Esther snapped, but I caught that little smile on her face as she studied her hair in the mirror.

“Oh, hell no, Esther. You’re no kitten—you’re a cougar,” I teased as I went cross-eyed, watching the stylist cut away at my new set of bangs.

“The hell does that mean?” Esther asked, and Liz and I laughed along with the giggles of our respective stylists.

Liz had her long mid-back length hair chopped to her shoulders in a cute layered bob with angled bangs that framed her rounded face perfectly. The rest of my hair was trimmed to a few inches below my shoulders and I asked for long layers with some angled pieces around my face, and I’d say the job had been done sufficiently. I could have cried looking at the sleek glossiness of my hair, giving life to something that had turned so dull.

I hoped Ben would like it, despite not having the slightest clue who the hell Ben even was or if I’d even like him in the first place.

We paid, treating Esther to the treatment we had talked her into, and she insisted on treating us to lunch. Remembering the burger I had eaten at the Golden Carousel, I made the suggestion as our dining destination. Without any other cravings among the carful of women, they agreed that some diner food sounded good, and Liz traveled down Main Street until we came by the shiny exterior and she turned her Explorer into the parking lot.

Birdy welcomed us when we walked in. I recognized her immediately, but thanks to my new hair and the lovely blackened-brown bruise that seemed to swallow a quarter of my face, she didn’t seem to recognize me at all. Not even a double take, and I thanked God for that.

She sat us in a booth and doled out the menus, giving us a grin and a few minutes to look over the menus.

“I haven’t been to a diner in years,” Esther mused with a smile, sliding a thick pair of glasses onto her nose before looking the menu over.

“Esther, have you gone anywhere in years?” Liz teased, peering at her over her own menu.

“Robert takes me out to Brooklyn for the holidays, Elizabeth. You know that. Don’t be a wiseass.” Her voice suggested she was irritated, but she smiled and looked up at us, her eyes magnified at least four times through the lenses. “This has been a really nice day, girls. Harry’s going to die when he sees my hair.”

I thought about pointing out the obvious, but …

Nah. Not worth it.

After several minutes of silence with our noses shoved in the laminated pages of our menus, Birdy returned to the table and asked if we were ready. We ordered three unsweetened iced teas, two turkey club wraps, and a chicken salad sandwich—all with fries on the side, thank you very much.

Birdy beamed at the order and slipped her note pad back into the pocket of her apron. “An easy one. Thank you, ladies. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

She turned and as she walked towards the kitchen, I heard her voice, shrill with excitement, as she greeted someone that had just walked in, and dammit if my stomach didn’t do a somersault. But it wasn’t Brandon, I noticed, pretending to stretch my neck out to the side as I looked to see who had entered. Close call.

Or was it?

I mean, did it really matter if he walked in that very second and noticed me sitting there with my sister and friend? Did it really matter if they met him and had a face to put to the name? The more I thought about it, the more it actually didn’t seem like the worst thing to happen. When I thought about it even more, I found myself actually wishing he’d show up. That he could just walk in there as I willed him to, walk up to the booth, and beam at the sight of me in the way that he did

But in the span of forty minutes, Birdy brought our food over, we ate through vibrant conversation, and Esther paid the bill; never once did he walk in. The disappointment was hard to ignore as we left the diner, and because my life had been proving to be the plot of a romantic comedy, we turned the corner to find ourselves face-to-face with the very person I had been hoping for. His own companion gabbed his ear off as he fell silent at the sight of me, and a smirk curled at the corners of his mouth.

“You have to be kidding me,” he said, bringing his friend to silence with the raise of a finger. “So, you’re telling me that not only do I have to find myself a new bookstore, but I have to find a new diner too?”

“Maybe, but I was here first, so it sorta looks like you’re the stalker, actually.” I apologetically grimaced, and smiled when he stepped forward to kiss me on the cheek. “Hello to you, too.”

The man he was with raised an eyebrow to Brandon, silently exchanging a look that I recognized, “Who the hell are these people?” Oddly enough, the two ladies flanking my sides were giving me a very similar look, narrowed eyes passing between Brandon and me.

Speaking up first, Brandon turned to the lanky man with the beak-like nose and beady eyes hiding behind a little pair of wire-rimmed glasses. “Nick, this is Holly. Holly, Nick.”

I watched as the man’s expression changed from one of suspicion to one of instant knowing as his mouth dropped open, nodding slowly. “Ohh, riiight.” He turned to me, and extended a hand with some of the longest fingers I had ever seen. “Very nice to meet you. Brandon talks about you.” His hand engulfed mine, and we shook as he added, “A lot.”

“Thank you very much for that, Nicholas,” Brandon said with a flush of his cheeks.

At the mention of his name, Liz and Esther simultaneously turned to look up at him, uttering what could have been a rehearsed “ohh.” I knew my cheeks had to be burning brighter than a goddamn tomato on fire. I introduced them to him and he graciously shook their hands with a smile that could have made any woman swoon, and they undoubtedly were.

Esther noticed one of Brandon’s tattoos peeking out from the sleeve of his leather jacket. She reached out with wrinkled old hands, sliding the sleeve up as far as it would allow, while his crystal blue eyes widened with shocked amusement. I stood there, completely mortified, as she peered up at him and asked, “You got any others?”

“Indeed, I do,” he said, glancing up at me with his half-smile.

“Oh, yeah? Well, let’s see ‘em,” Esther said, as she dropped his hand and looked up expectantly.

Nick and Brandon both laughed with surprise, and he replied, “Sure, but you have to buy me dinner first.”

She smirked with a nod, and turned to me. “Yeah, I like him.” As if I needed her approval. Then with a wave of her hand, she motioned for Liz to follow her. “Take me to the car, Elizabeth. My ass is freezing out here, and my blood thinners aren’t appreciating it.”

Liz nudged me in the ribs and whispered, “Wow.” She turned to smile at Brandon and his friend before taking Esther by the arm. “It was nice to finally meet you,” she said, and hurried off to the car; the two of them giggling like teenagers all the way.

Nick took that as his cue, and told Brandon he’d get their table, and with a gallant little bow, he mentioned again how nice it was to meet me. “I hope I see you again,” he added, and with that, he was hurrying into the diner.

And suddenly, we were alone.

“You had your hair done,” Brandon mentioned immediately, cocking his head slightly as he gazed down at me. “It looks nice,” he added, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Thanks,” I said with a smile, automatically touching the soft ends of my freshly cut hair. “I have a date,” I blurted out, feeling suddenly that he deserved an explanation for my sudden change in appearance.

I was bothered to find myself disappointed when Brandon didn’t so much as flinch. “You might want to do something with your face first,” he laughed, gently touching my cheek. “Still feeling shitty?”

I winced a little, and he pulled his hand away apologetically. “Yeah, but hey, that’s what drugs are for, right?”  

“Or booze, but hey, pick your own poison.” He laughed with a little shuffle of his feet. “Anyway, I should get in there, but I’m glad I bumped into you. Small towns have their perks.”

“Yeah, they do,” I agreed with a smile, and with another kiss on the cheek, he took off at a jog around me to hurry into the diner.

I made my way back to Liz’s SUV and climbed into the passenger side to the two of them glaring at me. “What?” I asked, immediately on the defense.

“Let’s just say,” Esther began with a little clearing of her throat, “when you had told us about that time you got down and dirty with that guy, neither of us had expected someone quite like that.”

I glanced toward the backseat at her, and then over at Liz. “What do you mean?”

Liz laughed. “You said he was beautiful, but you do know he’s seriously gorgeous, right?”

“He’s okay,” I said a little too casually, buckling myself in.

“Oh, yeah. Just okay.” Liz smirked with a knowing glare. “And—I don’t know. I mean, I guess I didn’t expect a guy who genuinely liked you.”

“What, you thought I was hanging out with some douchebag or something?”

Liz shrugged with her hands raised. “I don’t know! I think, at least for me, I assumed that he was some sleazy guy.” I guess my expression had suggested I was insulted by the accusation, and she touched me lightly on the arm. “But he’s really nice, and he obviously likes you a lot.”

“He’s a good friend,” I said, mostly to myself.

Liz and Esther maintained a vow of silence as we drove through the varying side streets, making our way back to Liz’s house, and a rather annoying paranoid little voice told me they weren’t convinced of that.

A good friend.

Holly freakin’ Hughes. Ignorantly oblivious.