41. Rosalyn

FORTY-ONE

ROSALYN

I take a deep breath in an attempt to steady my nerves, then I pull the door open.

Cool air flows around me as I enter the Booze Hooch, and I force my shoulders to relax as I step through the entryway.

My Uber got me here right on time, but I have a feeling Nathan is already here.

Except the bar is so packed I have no idea how I'll find him.

Fucking Nathan.

How did I let him talk me into this?

I take a few more steps into the crowd and have to stop myself from biting my lip so I don't mess up the gloss I applied in the car.

I tried not to overdo my look, but I still did my makeup and hair as though this was a date and not just old friends catching up.

Old friends who finger each other.

I shuffle another step, then reach back and lift my hair off my neck, letting the cooled air flow over my heated skin.

The whole ride over here, I did nothing but stress.

Stress about wearing my thick, straight hair down.

Stress about the low-cut tank top I chose to wear. About the flowy pants that felt casual before but now feel a bit too dressy .

My sandals are silent amid the noise as I shuffle and glance around.

In my hand, my phone vibrates.

Nathan: Back left corner, Beautiful.

Old friends who call each other Beautiful.

I slowly lift my gaze.

The lighting is dim.

Tall tables fill the center of the room, booths border the perimeter, and people are standing everywhere. But in the back, standing tall, with a hood pulled up over his hair, is the man I'm looking for.

I slip my phone into my purse.

I have the length of the room to compose myself.

It's just drinks.

Just some catch-up.

No expectations.