Usually that meant I devoted the day to catching up on rest and the tasks around the apartment I let go by the wayside during the week. I liked to say Sunday was the day I woke up when I was done sleeping. My phone alarm didn’t even get turned on Saturday night. When I woke up, then I’d start my to-do list, but there was no pushing myself to get up early.
It didn’t work out quite so much like that on that Sunday. My eyes popped open even before the sun came all the way up, and I couldn’t will myself to go back to sleep. Refusing to give in to it, I shoved my head under the pillow and stayed there that way. But after a few hours of tossing and turning, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up, showered, and got dressed. My list of tasks to do around the house started with cleaning up the kitchen, so I tackled that while coffee brewed.
By my third cup, the kitchen was completely clean, I had done three loads of laundry, and was in the process of cleaning all the floors. After that, I went right into scrubbing the bathroom. I told myself I was just very motivated and wanted to make my home clean and fresh. What was actually going on was trying to stuff my brain full of as many distractions as I possibly could, so I didn’t let my thoughts wander.
As impressive as my productivity was, it meant I was completely done with everything I needed to do before noon. That never happened. It left me with a whole day stretched out in front of me and too much nervous energy and caffeine to stay still. I cooked lunch, partially so I could enjoy a good meal rather than my usual sandwich and chips, and partially so I would have something else that I needed to clean up. That finished, I went back to trying to decide what to do next. I was going stir-crazy. Pacing back and forth through my living room, I was teetering right on the edge of saying “fuck it” and just leaving.
Not just the apartment, but Charlotte in general. I had the bar, and I had Nick. But I didn’t have Remy. And I hadn’t had a man in my bed since Grant. Running away to the beach was sounding better and better every minute. Only adding to the plan was Vince. Nobody knew I had been crushing on Vince for years now. The only friend I had who was close enough for me to talk to them about it would be Nick, and there was no way I was going to share that bit of information with him.
Having a guy as a best friend made talking about other guys challenging enough. When the guy I couldn’t get out of my mind was my best friend’s brother, it added a whole new level of awkward. It wasn’t like it was ever going to happen for us. At least, that’s what I always thought. We had known each other for a long time, and he’d never shown even the slightest bit of interest. Most of the time it was like he barely even knew I existed. But recently it seemed that was changing.
He was seemingly flirting with me now. Whatever it was, it was odd. What was even stranger was that Nick was the one who pointed it out to me. I couldn’t help but notice Vince was showing up to the bar more often than he usually did. Back in the day when my father still owned it, he spent more time there. But over the years, he stopped coming in on his own and would only come with his brothers. But over the last couple of weeks, he was showing up by himself for dinner or just to grab a beer. He always seemed to want to talk and would linger around even when he was done with his food or drink.
I didn’t let myself think too much about it. All that would be was wishful thinking. For years I’d wanted him to notice me as something more than the girl behind the bar or his kid brother’s best friend. Now that it seemed I’d finally made my way onto his radar, I couldn’t believe it. Then Nick mentioned it to me the night before. After our lunch together, I went to work feeling far better than I had before showing up at Nick’s house. He came into the bar later that night, and I couldn’t help but notice the smirk on his face.
That’s when he dropped the hammer. He picked and kidded me for getting cozy with Vince and asked me how I got his big brother to be so flirty. I was dumbfounded. But once he mentioned it, I started to think about our last few interactions with a totally new thought process. Rather than convincing myself I was only seeing his flirty tone through the prism of my own attraction to him, I accepted that he might actually have been flirting with me, too.