“Well done, Eryn, well done! You're the star of the game! Forget everything I said before – you're on top!”
“Thanks, Coach,” I heard myself mumble in reply. “Thanks.”
I walked off the court with the rest of the team, giving the crowd a half-hearted wave as I headed toward the locker room. I didn't know why, but somehow – as good as this victory was – it just felt a little hollow. I was just going through the motions.
All I wanted to do was to get home and relax in front of the TV.
*****
“Aw c'mon, Eryn, it'll be fun. And, you played so well today, you deserve to treat yourself and celebrate.”
Leena was usually pretty good at twisting my arm, but I had been doing a bang-up job of resisting her tonight. I hadn't felt like doing anything, and really had just wanted to stay in, but she, Callum, and some of his friends were going out to a new bar in town that seemed like it could be an interesting place, a bar called The Fishbowl. There was a band from L.A. playing who I'd wanted to see for a while, so finally, after all of Leena’s persuasion, I gave in.
“All right, all right, I'll come. Just let me get dressed and put on some makeup,” I said with a somewhat melodramatic sigh.
Half an hour later, I was all dressed up for the first time since arriving in California. A glance in the mirror before we left reminded me that I cleaned up fairly well. Despite my earlier reluctance, I now felt pretty good about agreeing to a night out. I couldn't let myself stay stuck in a funk forever, and even though I couldn't deny that I missed Wade terribly, it would be good to try to distract myself from thinking about him for a while.
Callum was a tall, handsome guy with blond hair and your stereotypical surfer’s tan. He was taking Leena and me out with some of his buddies from the football team. He drove us out to the bar in his Range Rover, and we started out the evening with a few shots.
The opening band was great, and they reminded me a little of the Red Hot Chili Peppers with their funky rock vibe. This, of course, immediately made me think of Wade and our shared love of ’90s music, and at that, I couldn't help but feel a little sad.
After the opening band left the small stage, Leena, Callum, myself, and Callum's two friends, Oliver and Irving, went to sit at a table near the stage to wait for the headlining band to take the stage. I couldn’t recall the band’s name.
Irving sat next to me and immediately moved his chair a little closer. He'd been shooting glances at me all evening, and it was pretty obvious that he was attracted to me. He was a good-looking guy with a strong jaw, jet-black hair, and features that made me think he was probably from an Italian family. And, of course, like the other guys, he was built from football and working out.
“What are you having to drink?” he asked me.
“Um, I guess just a Smirnoff Ice,” I replied.
“Awesome. It's on me,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks.”
He ordered me a drink as a waitress walked past our table, and then he struck up a conversation with me, being very attentive and looking me in the eye as we talked.
“I was at the volleyball game earlier,” he said. “You were just amazing out there. You've got serious talent.”
I blushed. I’d never been very good at taking compliments. “Aw, thanks, Irving! I appreciate that. I'll have to come watch you guys play football sometime.”
“You should. We've got a killer lineup this season, and we're gonna steamroll whatever team comes up against us, I guarantee that.”
“So that band was really great huh?” I said, trying to make conversation. “Don't you think they sounded like the Chili Peppers?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, not really. What makes you say that?”
“No, I mean like how the early ’90s Chili Peppers sounded.”
“The Chili Peppers were around in the ’90s? Shit, well, I was in kindergarten then; how was I supposed to know that? Hmm, I guess I only know, like, two Chili Peppers songs, anyway. There's that one that was big last year...and, uh, I dunno, I kinda forgot the name of the other one. I'm too busy to listen to music much.”
It was obviously rather pointless to talk about music. Irving didn't seem to have any interest in it. He kep
t the conversation going though, steering it toward another topic.
“You know, you look seriously pretty tonight,” he said, flashing me a charming smile. “Of course, I noticed you on the volleyball court, and you were looking pretty fine then, but damn girl, you're looking smokin' hot right now.”
I chuckled nervously. I couldn't say I didn't appreciate the compliment, but this wasn't what I was after at the moment. And, he really needed to work on his charm. There’s a way to say things to a woman. We’d much rather be told we look beautiful as opposed to looking hot.
Still, he was a good-looking guy, and despite not seeming to have much in common with him, he seemed to be nice enough, so I figured that it wouldn't hurt to at least chat with him.