Shaken Not Stirred (Mixology)

by Alyssa Rose Ivy

  “I need to talk to you.” The words slipped from my mouth as soon as he opened his front door. I pushed past him, wanting as little physical contact as possible. A caress or a kiss would only make it harder.

  “About?” His eyes twinkled. He had no idea what was coming, and that made it so much worse. It was eleven o’clock at night, and I was pretty sure he’d just gotten home.

  “The trip.”

  “What about it?” He displayed the first hint of nerves.

  “I’m not coming.” My hand formed a fist. I was so tense and nervous I wanted to be sick.

  “What?” He rested a hand on the wall. “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.”

  “Sure you can. We’ve been over this. It won’t cost you anything.”

  I looked down, finding it impossible to meet his eye. “I need to stay here.”

  “Why? What the hell is so important that you have to stay?” Anger filled his voice. I’m sure his exhaustion had something to do with it.

  “Work, my friends, me.”

  “You? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t want me for who I really am, Colin. You have this idealized version of me, but it’s not me.”

  “How can you even say that? Of course I know the real you.”

  “You don’t. I can tell by the way you tell your friends that bartending is only until I find something better. You don’t know me.”

  “I know you aren’t going to spend your whole life behind a bar.”

  “But I’m also not jumping up and down to apply for jobs either.”

  “So? What does that have to do with me not knowing you? I don’t get it.”

  “You think I’m something I’m not. You’ve been so busy working that you haven’t taken the time to figure out who I really am.”

  “Oh. So this is my fault? I’m sorry that I work for a living. I’m sorry that I care about our future.”

  “Our future? We’ve been dating a few months, Colin. My future has nothing to do with yours.”

  His mouth fell open. “You say that I haven’t taken the time to really get to know you? Well, do you even know yourself? Who are you, Maddy?” The anger in his voice scared me, but it was better than hearing hurt.

  “No, but that’s the whole point.”

  “The whole point?”

  “If I don’t know who I am, how can I commit to you?”

  He groaned. “It’s just three months. I don’t want to spend three months apart. Do you really want to?”

  “I’m not asking you to do long distance. You’re free to date or do whatever you want.”

  “So this is about more than the trip? You’re trying to break up with me?” His anger wavered. He was scared.

  I nodded, knowing that if I spoke I’d probably start crying.

  “Why? I don’t get it. You can’t be with me because you’re trying to find yourself? Or wait. Sorry, that was only one attempt at bullshitting an excuse. The first one was that I don’t really know you. And let’s not forget that I work too much. What other crap do you have waiting for me? Where the hell is this all coming from?”

  “You can’t be surprised. We’ve barely seen each other for weeks.”

  “I had to get things tied up before we left. I want to have time for you in Paris.”

  “Oh, because magically I’ll come first there?”

  “What do you want from me, Maddy? What am I supposed to say right now to fix things? Should I quit my job? Is that what it’s going to take? Because I’ll do it. I’d quit this second if it meant I wouldn’t lose you.”

  “No. You have to do what’s best for you. Your job is important.”

  “You are important.” He pleaded with me with his eyes.

  “I’m not going to hold you back. You’ve worked too hard to let that happen.

  He buried his face in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s for the best though.”

  “So what? You want time to find yourself? Is that what’s going on here?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “When you figure out who you are, will you let me know?” It was more of a taunt, and that hurt worse than anything.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “What? I get you don’t want to come with me. I get you want space or something like that to ‘find yourself.’” He used air quotes. “But are you saying there’s not even a chance you want to try us again when I get back?”

  “I don’t think you’ll like the person you find.” I forced myself to meet his eyes.

  “What? How can you say that?” He looked at me, really looked at me like he was trying to pull out answers.

  “You would have loved the girl I was supposed to be.”

  “What if that’s who you are? Ever think that you’re running from yourself? You’re smart Maddy. So what if you didn’t get into medical school? Does that mean you have to give up on any career?” He reached for me. “Wait. Scratch all of that. I don’t care what you do. I just want you.”

  “I don’t know what I want, and I’m not going to figure it out by following you to another continent so you can ignore me and work.”

  “I told you I’m going to have more time. I promise.”

  “You can’t promise that.”

  “I love you, Maddy.”

  I shook my head.

  “No. You don’t get to tell me what I think and feel.” He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. “I love you.”

  “I—”

  “No. Don’t even say it. I know you feel the same way, but I also know you’re too afraid to admit it. The next three months are going to suck, but I’m not giving up on you, Maddy. I’m not giving up on us.”

  “I’m not promising you anything.” I needed to be honest. I had no clue what the next few months would bring, and I wasn’t going to leave him with the wrong impression.

  “I am. I’m going to Paris for work, and that’s what I’ll do. I’m calling you once a week, and if you don’t pick up, that’s your choice. But I’m calling. I’ve never met anyone like you, anyone who made me feel the way you do. I’d be an idiot to give up this chance.”

  “Why promise that when I can’t promise it in return?”

  “Because I’d rather you get it all out of your system. Do what you need to do. If that means sleeping with other guys—as awful as that sounds to me, then so be it. But I’ll let it be known that I don’t think sex is going to help you find yourself. You’re not going to find better sex than what we have.” He said it playfully, and it lightened the mood in a strange way. “But do what you need to. Talk to your parents. Figure out what you want. Just do me a favor and let me know if you leave Corolla. I need to be able to find you. Could you at least promise me that? Promise me that I’ll get to see you when I get back, even if you can’t promise you’ll want to date me?”

  I nodded. My guess was he wouldn’t even care by the time he got back. He’d move on.

  He took my face in his hands. “I’m sorry you feel that you need to do this. I wish you felt strong enough to jump on an opportunity, to take a chance with me here.”

  “The chance is not going. The chance is staying.”

  “I’m going to miss you. And you’re going to miss me. You like the way you feel when we’re together, and you’ll miss it. If it gets to be too much, just call. I’ll send you a ticket. This isn’t all or nothing.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “I do too. If you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “And that statement is exactly why we’re having it. We’re in such different places, and we both know it. Like I said before. You don’t really want me.” I stepped away from him and turned toward the door.

  “Just like that? You’re going to leave just like that?”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Stay tonight. Give us a little more time.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

/>   “Why not? This whole thing has nothing to do with your feelings for me. I know that, so don’t even try to deny it.”

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “Then why not stay?”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid you’ll change your mind?” He knew me too well.

  “Yes. And that would be a mistake.” I sighed. “Goodbye, Colin. Have a safe trip.”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me against him. “No. You are not walking out like that.” His lips crushed into mine, and I let them. I needed the closure as much as he did. I soaked it all in. I soaked in the cinnamon, the tanginess, the feeling of comfort I’d never found before. His hands roamed, and I broke the kiss. I couldn’t talk.

  He squeezed my hand, but then let go. “Don’t do anything too crazy, Maddy. Don’t do anything you can’t come back from.”

  “I already did that.” I smiled slightly before walking out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I was out of ideas. Either Lyle didn’t have a drink, or if he did, I was incapable of finding it. I watched him setting up his guitar without even glancing over, and I startled as a flood of anger flowed through me.

  I was so convinced the Manhattan was right, but it wasn’t. Maybe I was wrong about the whiskey. Maybe I was wrong about it all. I decided to give him the last drink I’d picture him enjoying. He didn’t seem into tart, and from the expression on his face when I gave him vodka, that wasn’t his thing either. I grabbed both and poured them into a shaker. I shook it hard before pouring it over ice in a highball. I didn’t bother with garnish.

  My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my skirt. I let it go to voicemail. I knew who it would be. I repeated the same excuses I told myself every time I thought about it—which was at least ten times a day. If I’d gone with Colin I’d just spend the time waiting around. I’d have hated him by the end, and he would have hated me for being so upset. Maybe at some point I’d be willing to settle for someone who put me second, but at twenty-two it didn’t feel right. Not when I knew there were guys out there who understood me and who would want me enough to put me first. Maybe it wasn’t Lyle, but there was someone else.

  I sighed and placed the glass on a cocktail napkin. I needed to give up on Lyle too. My interest was a weird obsession that had gone too far.

  I found Lyle waiting to start his set. “Hey.”

  “Hey. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” I walked back to the bar. Macon had gone home for a few days, and Brody wasn’t working Thursdays anymore, so I was on my own. Watching Lyle alone reminded me of the time Carly had come in. I wondered if I’d ever talk to her again.

  Lyle sipped his vodka cranberry, looked at it and took another sip. He’d never taken two consecutive sips before. Then he took a third and smiled—at me. He found me across the bar and held up the drink.

  My heart could have stopped. He liked a vodka cranberry? Seriously?

  A crowd came in, and I missed most of his first set as I made small talk while mixing drinks and opening beers.

  “Hey.”

  I turned around in surprise.

  Lyle stood at the bar with a smile, and for once, he showed some teeth. “Do you want to do something after you get off? Hang out or something?”

  “Oh. Sure.” My heart sped up. What was happening?

  I could barely concentrate as I finished up at work that night. I served drinks without thinking, and thankfully didn’t spill much. Lyle finished his last set and sat around waiting for me to get off.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked, slipping on a sweater.

  “I don’t think anything is open. Want to drive around?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” I hadn’t done that since high school.

  Settled in his car, I tried to stay calm. It was just hanging out—nothing to get bent out of shape about. We sat in silence, and I needed to break it.

  “So, how long have you been playing guitar?”

  “Since I was eight. It’s pretty much my life.”

  “That’s awesome. I love your music.”

  “Yeah?” He took his eyes off the road to smile at me. “That’s cool.”

  “Where do you come up with your ideas? Do you write the words first or the music?”

  He put a hand behind my seat. “Oh. I don’t even write my own lyrics anymore. I kind of suck at it.”

  “What?”

  “I actually lucked out. I met a guy around here who loves writing but hates performing and doesn’t play much. He gives me notebooks of lyrics, and I write songs. I think he just likes that the words are out there. You know? I get that. I totally get that.”

  “Who is it?” I gripped the oh-my-god bar. “Who writes your lyrics?”

  “His name’s Colin. He hangs out at the Grille sometimes.”

  “Stop the car!”

  “What?”

  “We’re only a few blocks from my place. Stop the car!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. STOP THE CAR!”

  It was like one of those eighties movies. The fist pumping music started, and I had to get to Colin. I barely waited for the car to stop before I busted out and started running home. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so blind? All along those lyrics had been Colin’s? I’d felt such an intense connection to him and didn’t even know it. Were any of those songs written for me? Colin was right, he did know me. I was starting to wonder if he knew me even better than I knew myself.

  ***

  “If one needed to extend their credit limit quickly, how would they do it?” I slumped down on Macon’s bed while he played some game on his computer.

  “Well, it depends what one needs the money for.”

  “Why? You don’t have to tell the credit card company that.”

  “No, but you could tell your friend.” He spun around in his chair to look at me.

  “I messed up so bad, Macon. I don’t know how I let this happen.” That’s when the tears started. I’d kept them in the whole time, but I couldn’t anymore. “It was his lyrics. They were his lyrics.”

  “Wait. Whose?”

  “Colin’s! Colin wrote all the lyrics for Lyle’s songs!”

  Macon burst out laughing. “No fucking way!”

  “Yes, way. I need to see him.” I buried my face in my hands. “I was already missing him like crazy, and now this? Things with us might not be perfect, but I need to try. I shouldn’t have just given up.”

  “Finally she gets it. Relationships take work. Didn’t you say he offered to quit his job for you?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s extreme, but find a compromise. No more wasting time finding yourself. That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

  “I know. I just didn’t think he really got me.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “Real helpful.” I stared down at my hands.

  I waited for Macon’s comforting arms, but they didn’t come. Instead I heard typing. I looked up.

  “Try this for helpful. Your credit’s extended.” Macon gestured for me to join him at his computer. “When do you want to leave?”

  “Now would be great.”

  He smiled. “How about I book you a flight for first thing tomorrow morning?”

  “That works too.” I sat down on the edge of the desk. “But you don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I was ever broke and needed to see the love of my life in another country, I’d hope you’d buy the ticket for me.”

  I gave him a huge hug. “Oh my god, Macon. You’re amazing.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  “Let’s get real. It’s Colin we’re talking about. How long do you think he’ll wait before he sends me a check?”

  I laughed. “I guess it depends on whether he wants me back.”

  “He wants you back.”
/>   “How do you know?”

  He typed in my name and birthday so he could purchase the ticket. “Because you can’t be that easy to get over, and because the guy’s in love with you.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Me too. I don’t want to have to buy you a ticket home tomorrow.”

  I pushed his arm. “Don’t make me doubt this.”

  “I won’t. I already thought you should make things work. Now you finally have your proof. Only you, Maddy. Only you.”

  “I can do this.”

  “Yeah, you can. But one small detail.” He forwarded me the email confirmation.

  “What’s that?”

  “I take it you want to surprise him?”

  “Yes. That’s the plan.”

  “So how are you going to find out where he’s staying?”

  “Oh. I guess I could call Gabriel. I still have his number.”

  “Skeevy boss guy?”

  “Yeah…

  Macon leaned back in his desk chair. “Have fun with that.”

  “It’s worth it.”

  I pulled out my phone and called Gabriel, glad I had his number.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Maddy?” It wasn’t until I heard his groggy voice that I realized it was one a.m.

  “Hi. Sorry about the time. I just need Colin’s address in Paris.”

  “Missing him too?”

  “Too?”

  “I chatted with him this afternoon.”

  “Oh. Does he sound okay?”

  “He’d be better if he wasn’t picturing you with other men.”