His Best Friend's Sister

“Ah, fuck!” Jordan said from somewhere in the billows.

“Jordan?” I yelled.

“Tyler?” he called back. “Grab the extinguisher beside you and go hit the pan on the stove. I can’t find the one under the sink.”

I grabbed the extinguisher and ran over, dousing it before it got any worse. It was very easily identifiable as a little grease fire, and nothing seemed to be damaged other than a hand towel that had caught flame. Jordan coughed as he came over.

“New guy put too much oil on,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Where is he now?”

“Went to hit the head,” he said, motioning his thumb toward the bathroom. “Guess he forgot he left the burner on, too.”

“Might want to have a talk with him about that,” I said, somewhat to myself.

“Might just,” Jordan agreed.

Frustrated with the detour, I headed back out to the back door, fully intent on taking my break and getting the fresh air, especially now that I had inhaled so much smoke. When I got outside, the cool air was bracing, and I took a deep breath of it. I had grabbed a drink to take with me before I left the bar, and I sat down on the top step to sip it when the door opened behind me.

I looked up, expecting to see Jordan or the new cook, but was surprised to see Becca. She smiled with her lips closed and stood by the door apprehensively.

“Is it okay if I join you?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said.

She walked over and sat down next to me, just a few inches separating us, and I could feel the electricity sparkle between us. Electricity that wasn’t supposed to be there. We were friends. Nothing more.

“Melissa had to use the restroom,” she said to break the silence. I nodded. “Are you okay?”

She must have been able to tell something was bothering me.

“I’m fine. Just frustrated, I guess,” I said.

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to about it,” she said, leaving the answer to that question open.

I smiled and nodded.

“Thanks,” I said. “How are you?”

“I’m still feeling a little hungover,” she said.

“No, I meant how are you handling everything?” I asked, standing. She stood with me, and I put the glass down on the table next to us

“Oh,” she said, looking down and then out over the alley behind the bar and into the expansions of the city beyond. It was still a growing area, but it was lively, even at midnight. Cars streamed down the streets, sometimes booming with music, other times revving their engine in what I assumed was supposed to be an impressive manner. “I’m… not doing so well.”

She looked over at me, and I could tell there was trouble in that expression. Trouble for what she was going through, and trouble for me for how I was feeling about it. I wanted to reach out, to hold her, to kiss her. It was dumb, and borderline treasonous to my friendship with her brother to even think those things, but I couldn’t help it.

“Need a hug?” I heard myself ask before I could stop the words from getting to my lips. She nodded and folded into my outstretched arms, which were also operating seemingly of their own accord. But as soon as she was against my chest, any argument I had with independent body parts went away quickly. Except for one, but that one had some pretty tight jeans holding it down at the moment.

We stood there, holding each other and gently swaying for some time. It felt good, too good. Good enough that it was overriding every warning sign my body could toss out. Slowly, she leaned back, and our eyes met, and it felt like time stopped. Nothing else existed except for her eyes, her lips. Those lips I had touched once before and had been pining for all night.

I began to lean forward, and she responded. Our bodies were drawing closer, a kiss imminent and welcome. A sober kiss.

But the door swung open and Matt walked out. We broke our embrace, and she took a step back, pulling a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I could see the expression on Matt’s face was one of both confusion and curiosity.

“Just coming out here to check on you,” he said. “Jordan said you were out here getting fresh air after the new cook tried to set the kitchen on fire. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Becca already came out to check on me, too.”

“That’s right, I did,” she said. “And you’re fine. So, I’ll just… head inside.”

She walked past Matt, excusing herself and heading back toward the bathrooms while Matt held the door open. His eyebrow was arched, and I didn’t like the look on his face. I grabbed my glass and followed her in, letting Matt shut the door behind me.