Page 13 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“For old time’s sake,” Dave slams a second glass next to mine, turns the bottle, setting down the saltshaker and two lime wedges. He picks up the second glass, in a cheers motion, and he shoots it down.

“Yes, Dave knows what time it is!” Becca yells at the top of her lungs, and I start to consider maybe we have both lost our minds to be drinking this much.

I can’t hold back the cackling laugh that bubbles out. My body is starting to feel just a little warm, and more comfortable in the tight jeans Becca made me wear with the black, faded band t-shirt. I get the salt and lime, take the shot. The lime helps the burn, as I send Becca an annoyed, but grateful look. I needed this tonight.

“I’m taking a break after this one,” I say, but she shakes her head and sways to the music. “Actually, I’ll be right back.”

I’m still anxious, though it’s become duller after those last two shots. I feel like I need to take a minute to compose what’s left of my nerves. I step to the side and head for the bathroom. The warmth spreading through my body hits my face, so I make a note to have Dave pour some water for us when I get back to the bar.

I push the women’s bathroom door open and move myself in front of the mirror. My hair is down, wavy and wild, and Becca insisted I wear the slightest bit of eyeliner with my normal neutral makeup, and for the first time in a long time, I almost feel human. I run my hands down my hips, feeling the little sliver of skin peeking through from under the top that’s cut a little short and I stare into my own eyes.

“You can just be Max tonight, you don’t have to do anything else, you can have fun for once,” I tell myself quietly in the mirror, wondering if it’s possible to just be without questioning every word before I say it.

I take a breath and wash my hands before taking one last look in the mirror.

A slow remake of ‘I Put a Spell on You’ starts seeping through the speakers behind the door.

“They really are pushing the classics tonight.” I shake my head and take another breath as I pull open the door and head back toward the bar.

I look up to see Dave sliding a glass that looks like it has whiskey in it towards where Becca is standing with her back to me, talking to—

“Oh, shit.”

The words come out under my breath.

Callan Reed is talking to Becca with a small smile playing on his lips. He grabs the glass Dave slid towards him and slides a credit card back with a small nod.

My feet carry me to the bar before my survival instincts can catch up. I spin around like there might be a trapdoor, a rescue ladder, an act of God.

What am I doing? I haven’t seen him in seven years. I can’t just walk up and say,‘Hey, we might have fallen in love if I wasn’t dating that one idiot, but how you been?’

Don’t be an idiot, Max, he’s just a guy, you haven’t seen him in forever, maybe he’s married, maybe he has three kids, and you have nothing to be nervous—

“At least you didn’t hide behind the bar like you did with the desk earlier today.”

His voice lands at my ear and spreads heat up my neck. My eyes snap open.

Callan is standing next to me as I turn my head slightly, and I’m staring up into the smirking eyes of someone I used to know. A few new lines at the edges, same perfect almost-smile.

“Hiding behind the—you saw me earlier when you were talking to Becca.”

I must look like a dumbfounded idiot with my mouth hanging open in front of him.

He leans sideways on the edge of the bar, and his eyes look like they’re taking in every inch of my face, and his lip is pulled between his teeth, fighting a smile.

I made the mistake of looking at his mouth as it curved upwards.

I never let myself consider his lips before. I try to stop myself from staring, but the tequila has control now, and it wants to memorize the way the edge of his mouth caught the yellow bar lights.

“I could never not see you, Sims. Your friend just thought I was standing in front of the window because I was lost. I wasn’t lost.” His elbow is on the bar, but his hand reaches out to touch my elbow lightly as he says it. “I saw you.”

Me.He saidme. He saw me. Respond, you idiot!

But my mouth and my brain aren’t connected at the moment, because the touch of his skin on mine makes me forget my name, forget this bar, forget words.

Without my consent, my body turns towards him and leans into his touch. I am sure my mouth is still hanging open. His soft brown hair has little curls meeting his face in the front, disheveled. And now that he’s so close, the beard I stared at in the golden sun earlier has just a few strands of gray sparkling in the bar lights. My lungs feel tight, and I glance down at his hand which has now found its way back to the bar as he sets his glass down. My brain connects to my eyes suddenly in search of a ring on his left hand. No ring.

Just big, strong hands that look like they could—