It was a Saturday night, and the bar was still busy at ten-thirty. I assumed for some of the dressed up people, their evening hadn’t even started yet. For others, the bar was a place to chat with friends or colleagues, and while I felt self-conscious about drinking alone in public, I figured none of these people would ever see me again, so what did it matter?
I ordered a white wine spritzer then settled down in a large, squishy chair at a table in the back corner of the room. Although the hotel wasn’t especially expensive, the inside was immaculate and the bar area classy. I felt comfortable for the first time in several hours, and I relaxed back into my seat, pulling out my phone to read a book via my trusty Kindle app. I also owned a real Kindle and an iPad, but I hadn’t brought either of those things with me. The app was perfect, and with my drink in my free hand, I felt the last of my tension drifting away as I got swept away within the pages.
“Erm… hi.”
I wasn’t sure the words were directed at me until I became aware of a slight shadow at my side. I lifted my head, only to see Bridge Guy standing awkwardly beside me.
“Oh. Hi.”
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said quickly. “I saw you as I came in.” I noticed he’d changed his clothes since he was now in a dry pair of jeans and a different t-shirt. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
“You’re staying here too?” I asked.
Duh. Why the hell else would he be in here, you dope.
He nodded. “Yeah. I travelled down from Manchester and it’s a bit cold for camping.”
I laughed lightly. “I thought I recognised the accent. I live in Stockport. What are the chances?”
“I’d say pretty high when Youth Authority doesn’t play any gigs nearby. You must be a big fan to come all the way down here though.”
Shrugging, I said, “It was something I had on my to-do list.” I said the words casually, as if trying to achieve things on my own wasn’t the big deal it truly was. “I guess I can cross it off, even though I didn’t survive the show.”
“You tried. That counts.”
Bridge Guy still looked a little ill at e
ase, so I gestured to the chair opposite mine. He glanced from me to the seat then sat down, perching on the edge as if unsure. “You sure you don’t mind?” he asked. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
I shook my head. “I was reading, but the book isn’t going anywhere.” I placed my phone down on the table and he slowly sat back. “Do you have a name?” I asked, with a small smile. Maybe it would feel less weird if I stopped calling him Bridge Guy in my head.
“Ashley,” he said. “But most people call me Ash.”
“I’m Evangeline. Evie.”
“Evangeline. That’s unusual.”
“My parents are unusual,” I joked.
Ash smiled. “In a good way?”
“I was kidding. I can’t say I know all that much about my dad, but my mum… well, she has her moments.”
Mostly these days, those moments are all about her asking me when I’m going to find someone new. Yawn.
“I don’t know much about my dad either,” Ash said, sitting back.
“So we already have two things in common.”
I startled myself, both with the tiny hint of sarcasm in my tone, and the fact that it sounded like I was trying to find some common ground with him. I didn’t want him to think I was hitting on him. He looked… well, younger than me.
“You mean neither of us wanted to stay until the end of the gig?” he asked.
“Three things. I meant we like the same music.”
“Four. We also have good taste in hotels.”
When he smiled, he looked a lot less melancholy, and again, I found myself wondering why he’d been out on the bridge alone.