“Okay. Sorry. What are you drinking?”
Heather peeked over Bella’s shoulder. “What do you have?” Bella told her, and Heather nodded and pointed. “One of those.”
Amy placed the order with the bartender, got herself a beer, and the three of them stood in a little triangle. Amy held up her bottle. “To Friday.”
They all sipped, then Heather lowered her voice. “You guys are gonna protect me, right?”
Bella grinned. It was the exact same line Heather had uttered ever since a woman bought her a drink and asked her to dance more than six months ago. “Yes, Heather, we will protect you from all the big, bad, scary lesbians. Right, Amy?”
An odd look zipped across Amy’s face so quickly, Bella barely saw it. “Absolutely. No worries.” She smiled widely as the DJ introduced himself and played a Lady Gaga dance mix to get things started. Grabbing each of them by the hand, Amy dragged both her friends onto the dance floor, and so began their Friday.
Two hours later, the crowd had tripled in size, most of them on the dance floor. Bella was down to her tank, sweating and feeling awesome. There was nothing quite like dancing to elevate her mood and it was obvious that her friends felt the same, judging by how they were laughing and falling into each other. Heather was pretty drunk. Amy, not so much. Bella was somewhere in between the two and glad they’d all taken Ubers so they didn’t have to worry about driving home.
Back at the bar, they agreed on one more round, Heather’s turn to buy.
“I need the ladies’ room,” Bella shouted in order to be heard. She excused herself, but as she approached the back corner of the bar, she could already see the line. Five women that she could see, and she knew there were most likely another three or four inside waiting. With a groan of annoyance, she headed upstairs to see if that ladies’ room had a shorter line. “Not by much,” she uttered as she got to the top of the stairs and saw three women waiting. But it was quieter upstairs, and Bella decided to stay, catch her breath, give her ears a break.
With a nod and a smile to the woman at the end of the line—shaved head and more piercings than Bella could count—she leaned against the wall and let her eyes wander the open space that made up the second floor of Teddy’s.
The bar started in one corner of the big square area and stretched out from there. It was smaller than the one downstairs, which was in the middle of the room and was accessible from all sides, but not by much. One bartender and one barback were on duty up here, as opposed to three and three on the first floor. A handful of patrons sat at the bar, the buzz of conversation low and comforting. Bella could feel the bass line from the dance music below, but that was all. Having a conversation up here was totally possible. As a woman came out of the ladies’ room and they all moved forward one space, the clack of pool balls drew Bella’s eye in the direction of the pool table where four women were in the midst of a serious-looking game. To the right of the pool table were several couches and overstuffed chairs arranged in small groupings. Bella scanned the various patrons occupying them.
And then she went still.
It was as if she was suddenly shot with a paralyzing agent of some sort that ceased any and all movement of her body. There were two comfy-looking chairs with matching ottomans. They were tilted slightly toward each other, a small, round table between them. On one chair lounged an attractive African American woman that Bella put around forty. She was talking animatedly to a blond woman in the other chair, using her hands to punctuate her story. Bella squinted as the blond threw her head back and laughed.
Yeah, she’d recognize that laugh anywhere. Light. Feminine. Contagious. Bella was smiling before she realized it.
“You’re up.”
A gentle tap on her arm brought Bella back to herself as the woman next to her smiled hesitantly and pointed to the open door of the bathroom. Bella hurried in, locked the door, and took a seat.
What the hell is Easton Evans doing in a gay bar?
It was a question with only two answers, really. Either she was gay or she was there with somebody who was gay. Right? What other reason would there be? And it couldn’t be the first one, could it? She was recently divorced from a man. Bella immediately scolded herself. You’re a therapist, for God’s sake. You know better than to shove people into boxes like that. She racked her brain to remember what Easton had said about her divorce. “I wasn’t happy.” That was all she’d said. Well, that doesn’t help.
Bella dug her hands into her hair, her confusion over why any of this mattered at all threatening to drown her when there was a knock on the door.
“Hey, you almost done in there? There’s a line, you know.”
Not having accomplished anything, she flushed anyway and grasped the doorknob. At least she didn’t see me was the only thought in her head as she exited the bathroom and muttered an apology to the next woman in line.
“I thought that was you.”
Bella didn’t have to look up to know who was talking to her, but she did, right into the big, blue, gorgeous eyes of Easton Evans. She looked beautiful in her jeans and denim jacket. She smelled amazing, that signature spiciness of hers finding its way to Bella’s nose. She was warm; Bella could tell by the temperature of the soft hand that grasped hers and tugged her toward the chairs where Bella had seen her last.
God, I’ve had too much to drink for this.
“Shondra, this is Bella Hunt.”
The African American woman that Bella had seen earlier sat forward in her chair and held out a hand to Bella, who managed to pull herself together long enough to shake it. “Shondra Carletti. It’s nice to meet you,” the woman said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Bella felt her own brows rise toward her hairline. “You have?” She hadn’t meant to sound surprised, but she was. Easton talked about her?
“Oh, yeah. Easton here really enjoys your class.”
Did Easton shoot the woman a look? Bella couldn’t be sure. She suddenly felt more intoxicated than she had just two minutes ago. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Can I get you a drink?” Easton asked, her smile gorgeous. Magnetic. That was it. The woman was magnetic. And Bella was a big, helpless piece of metal.
Bella squinted at her for a beat before answering. “Oh, no. Thank you, though. My friends are downstairs. And probably wondering where I am. I should—” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and took a small step backward. She couldn’t stay there, but if pressed to verbalize why not, she’d have remained silent, no idea what to say. All she knew was she needed to leave. It was a weird, inexplicable feeling, but she followed it. “It was nice to meet you,” she said with a nod to Shondra. “And it’s always nice to see you. Easton.” Before she could stop herself, she reached out, laid a hand on Easton’s upper arm, squeezed. “Always.”
Then she fled.
***
“Well, at least I got my questions answered.” Shondra looked far too satisfied as she sipped her no-name white wine and settled back into the comfy chair.
Easton finally sat down after letting her gaze follow Bella’s retreating form—her very quickly retreating form—until she descended the stairs and was out of sight. “Yeah? Which questions are those?”
“Question number one: is your instructor as hot as you said she was? The answer to that is, ‘Why yes, Shondra, yes she is. She is incredibly hot, just as I told you, and she and I would make stunningly beautiful babies together.’ Because, girl? You’ve been holding out. Wow. Did you see her? Just wow.”
Easton laughed. She couldn’t help it. Also, Shondra was right. Oh, I saw her. Believe me, I saw her. Bella looked…incredible. Her outfit was simple: just jeans and a white tank top—a tank top that showed off all kinds of arms. And skin. Collarbones. Shoulders. Her hair was loose and wavy, kind of tousled. Her cheeks were flushed like she’d been exerting herself a bit. Dancing? Those beautiful eyes were wide, maybe a little glassy. Easton suspected she’d had a bit to drink and that was probably why she’d le
ft so quickly. Embarrassed, maybe?
“And question number two: is she gay? While I can’t answer that with a hundred percent certainty, we are in a gay bar and she did seem rather comfortable here, so I’m going to go with, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”
Easton shook her head, still grinning. What were the chances? She’d been to other, smaller bars before, but she’d been wanting to come to this one. She’d found it online, had stalked its social media pages for a while, had intended to go for several weekends in a row now, but had always chickened out. Having Shondra offer to be her wing woman was all she needed to bolster her courage. She’d been sitting here in this nice chair, enjoying both the conversation with Shondra and the ability to simply…observe, when who should catch her eye but the one woman she couldn’t seem to get out of her head lately? It was all so very strange.
“So?” Shondra’s voice brought her back to her present surroundings.
“So…what?” Easton sat back in the comfy chair, finished her drink.
“So…are you going to ask her out?”
Easton scoffed, pretended the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. “I wouldn’t know how to do that.”
Shondra gave her a look that, if it had sound, would’ve said, “Bitch, please.” She kept that look focused on Easton until Easton began to squirm.
“Stop.”
“No, you stop. Stop being ridiculous. You’ve already asked her to coffee. Right?”
Easton pursed her lips, nodded grudgingly. “Yeah…” It was true. She had. And the world hadn’t crumbled around her. Bella had even said yes. “Yeah, I did.”
“See? There you go. Just do it again.”
Many questions flew through Easton’s mind then. Does it make me desperate if I ask again? What if she’s not interested in me that way? What if she says no? God, what if she says yes?
“I can see that brain of yours working, bringing up every possible scenario. I can hear the mechanisms whirring from over here.” Shondra’s half-grin gave the mocking a lightness, made it playful.
Easton blew out a breath that raspberried her lips. “I hate that you know me so well.”
“It’s a good thing.” Shondra squeezed her arm. “Trust me.”
Deciding against another round, the two decided to head home. Easton craned her neck on the way down the stairs and on the path toward the door but didn’t catch another glimpse of Bella anywhere. She’d either left already or was somewhere Easton couldn’t see her. Maybe she was hiding from her.
Oh, well. It was probably better this way, because if Easton was going to ask Bella out, she needed some time to plan. To outline. To rehearse…
Wait.
Am I going to ask her out?
Chapter Eight
Framerton High, 2003
Izzy had perfected the art of watching while appearing like she wasn’t. It came with the territory when you were trying to blend in and be invisible. She stood practically inside her locker—the better to be ignored—and peered through the vent on the door as Easton Evans jammed her tongue down Connor Douglas’s throat.
Ewww.
And yet, she couldn’t seem to look somewhere else. Couldn’t tear her gaze away from the long, exposed column of Easton’s neck as she tilted her head up to meet Connor’s lips. Couldn’t help but let her eyes wander down the curves of Easton’s body. Couldn’t stop looking at the peek of skin on her side where her shirt rode up, the snugness of her jeans, the perfect shape of her ass. Heat and…something else, something she couldn’t name, didn’t want to name, raced through her body as she stood there, a voyeur, wishing—
BAM!
The locker next to hers slammed shut and the sound was like a gunshot, shocking enough to snap Izzy out of her little fantasy world as her entire body flinched in place. She blinked rapidly and swallowed hard.
Jesus, really? Pull it together, Iz. You’re being a creeper.
This chiding of herself was becoming a regular thing. She couldn’t help it. She blamed the dream. Having the same dream more than once was something Izzy had heard about but never experienced. Until this one. She’d had it twice now, but it didn’t mean anything. Right? It was just a dream.
With an almost violent shake of her head, she whipped the thought away. Then she grabbed her books, slammed her locker shut, and hurried down the hall toward her lit class. Head down, books held tightly to her chest. The same way she walked everywhere in school. The better to not be seen.
***
Bella made it until the following Wednesday before she slipped up on the group text.
Amy had typed, It’s Hump Day. You get to see your Blast from the Past tonight, Bells.
Without thinking, Bella had responded with Twice in less than a week and then added an eye roll emoji. The second she hit Send, she realized her mistake and braced for the fallout.
Why didn’t text have an Unsend button? Who could she send a letter to about that?
Wait, what? When was the other time? Heather had been fairly quiet, but was suddenly right there with her questions.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Bella muttered as she tried to analyze the situation. It wasn’t that she had anything to hide. So Easton had been at Teddy’s on Friday. So Bella hadn’t told her friends. So what? Didn’t mean anything. At all. Plus, Easton was there with somebody. Was it a friend? A girlfriend? Would Easton have mentioned a significant other at coffee last week? Bella racked her brains to recall whether there’d been an opportunity but was interrupted by the ping from her phone and Amy’s impatience.
Hello?
Bella growled low in her throat as she sat back in her desk chair. There wasn’t a way around this and she didn’t make it a habit to lie to her best friends, so she clenched her jaw and typed out the truth. She was at Teddy’s on Friday.
Two emojis arrived within half a second of each other. Both were wide-eyed shocked faces.
WTF? from Amy.
Why didn’t you point her out? from Heather.
I’m sorry! I panicked! Again, it was the truth. Bella had spent the past several days first trying not to think about those five minutes at the bar and then reliving them over and over again. Wondering what she could have done differently. Wondering what she should have done differently. Wondering what she should have said differently. She’d come pretty close to driving herself completely mad; it had only been work that had saved her.
EM! I’m calling it. They didn’t use the Emergency Meeting, or EM, as Amy had named it, very often. It really was reserved for emergencies. So, when she called this one, Bella balked.
No way. I call overreaction. Everything’s fine.
Can we do EHH then? Heather took things down a notch to request an Emergency Happy Hour.
Tomorrow, Bella typed out. Yes. I can do that.
They settled on time and place and Bella signed off. She had to get home and spend a little time with Lucy and Ethel, but she also wanted to step away from that conversation. Now she had time to gather her thoughts, organize them in a way that made sense.
Which had proven difficult recently.
As she sat on her kitchen floor between her dogs and stroked their strong backs as they ate dinner, she tried to focus on her feelings. Her current feelings, right then, in that moment. There were several, the first and foremost being her love for her animals. That was a constant and it swelled her heart and warmed her from the inside out every time. She’d often joked that she’d take a bullet for her dogs…except it wasn’t a joke. She absolutely would.
The other feelings she wrestled with as she sat on the linoleum were harder to pinpoint, they took more effort to grasp.
Easton Evans represented a lot of things. Bella had to accept that. The biggest thing was her past. Bella had worked hard to first run away from it, but second—and more reasonably—leave it behind. Most people would’ve run a lot farther, but Bella wanted to at least be in the same state as her parents. She was all they had, and she loved them dearly. Leaving them behind wasn’t an option—or
a desire— so she’d run a good three hundred miles away instead. And that seemed to work. Framerton High wasn’t huge and she’d never, in her fifteen years since graduation, run into any of her former classmates.
Until now.
Suddenly, both Easton Evans and Connor Douglas were here, in her town, the town she had claimed for herself, and she did not like it. At all. It felt like her worlds were colliding and there was not a damn thing she could do about it but stand there and watch, wide-eyed. Feeling like she had no control of her life was something Bella thought she’d left behind as well. Apparently, she was wrong because that’s exactly how she felt now. And she blamed Easton for that. Easton and her friendly smile and her gorgeous figure and her showing up at Bella’s gay bar. Yes, Bella had decided that everything in her town belonged to her and Easton was trespassing. The therapist in her head tossed her notebook away in exasperation and left the room.
It should be easy to separate. In her line of work, that was an essential skill, one that she’d never had an issue with. But there was one wrench in those gears currently: Bella was attracted to Easton. Was still attracted to Easton. Was still very attracted to Easton.
“Some things never change,” she muttered, and Ethel turned to give her a kiss that smelled like dog food and made Bella chuckle. “And thanks for that.” She ruffled Ethel’s ears and pushed herself to her feet. Seeing Easton in a gay bar had shifted Bella’s perspective and she had to figure out what she was going to do about it, if anything.
Because she was going to see Easton again in less than an hour.
***
Trouble concentrating.
Hard time focusing.
Distracted.
All those things described Easton in the conflict resolution class that night. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to aim her attention at the information in the class because she was too busy letting her eyes roam over the teacher of the class.
The Do-Over Page 8