The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (77 page)

The Tap Room has become our alternate option in place of Cooper
’
s. It
’
s located on the edge of Old Town and has a more sophisticated atmosphere than the pub. It still has a bar setting, but it
’
s more of a chill spot than a game spot. The beer selection is amazing and the menu is pretty good, too. The only thing that makes me pause before agreeing to go is my level of exhaustion. I did five hours at the hospital and then five at the bookstore.
Then again
—
I could eat. And negative three? I have to know what that
’
s about.

Me:
Half hour?

Logan:
See you soon!

Since it
’
s eight o
’
clock on a Friday night, I can hardly be surprised by the crowd that fills The Tap Room. I know that Logan is already here, since she sent me a text upon arrival, but I
’
m not sure
finding
her will be too easy. The restaurant is essentially one giant room, with a long bar, a bunch of high top tables, and low booths that line the wall; it
’
s open seating, which appears to be more of a concept than an option, right now. My stomach growls and I
’
m hoping that we
’
ll manage to find
someplace
before my hunger drops my mood from a
six
to a
four
.

“
Hey, Mysterious,
”
Logan speaks softly into my ear. Her breath tickles and I jerk away from her, startled that she was able to sneak up on me, and find her grinning at me slyly.

“
Hey. Sorry, I didn
’
t notice you.
”

She turns her glossy lips down in an exaggerated frown.
“
Trying to kick me while I
’
m down, are you? That
’
s not very nice.
”

“
Come on, don
’
t be like that,
”
I chuckle, throwing my arm around her shoulders to pull her in for a side-hug.
“
I see you now. Next, we just have to try and
see
our way to a table. Although, that
’
s looking like it
’
ll be quite the challenge.
”

“
Please,
”
she scoffs. She slips from underneath my arm and stands in front of me, arching her eyebrow as she grabs a fist full of my shirt.
“
This
girl waits for
no one
. Especially today. Follow me, smarty.
”

I smile at her, mostly because I find it amusing that she hardly ever uses my name
—
inserting whatever adjective she deems appropriate to describe me instead
—
and I allow her to tug me to the far end of the bar. As we maneuver our way through clumps of people, she doesn
’
t loosen her grip on me; it isn
’
t until she occupies the last available seat that she lets me go.

“
We
’
ll move as soon as we can.
”

“
Yeah, that
’
s fine,
”
I say with a shrug.

“
Alright
—
pick your poison,
”
she demands, pointing up to the beer menu. It
’
s displayed all the way across the bar on a digital screen. Every time I come, I try and order something different, just because I can. The selections are listed from light to dark brews and tonight, I
’
m in the mood for something heavy that I can drink slowly. She orders a pale ale and I order a porter and when we
’
ve got our drinks in hand, she proposes a toast.
“
To a better night.
”

“
I
’
ll drink to that,
”
I say, clinking my glass against hers.
“
As long as you promise to fill me in on what made your day worthy of a
negative-three
.
”

“
I thought you
’
d
never
ask!
”
She takes a few hurried sips of her beer before running her fingers through her blonde hair and pulling it to one shoulder. Crossing one leg over the other, her long limbs bare until her upper thigh where her short skirt stops, she props her arm across her knee and leans toward me before she begins her story.

This is how it works. We come, we fill each other in on the details of our bad day, and then we move on.

“
I woke up in someone else
’
s bed this morning. It was just weird, you know? Disorienting.
”

“
Um
…”
I
’
m at a loss for words.

“
Don
’
t give me that judgy-asshole face,
”
she demands, reaching out to smooth away my furrowed brow.

As soon as her fingers leave my skin, my eyebrows return to their previous state.
“
I
’
m not judging you. I just
—
I didn
’
t know you
—
I just didn
’
t know you were seeing someone,
”
I stutter.

“
I
’
m not. Well, I suppose I was
last
night
.
”

“
Oh,
”
I manage.

“
Stop it!
”
she demands, smoothing her fingers over my forehead again.
“
I'm not a slut, you know? We didn
’
t have sex.
”

I hold up my beer and lift my free hand, palm up, signaling my innocence. She's always telling me that I think more than any guy she
’
s ever met; and yet, right now, I'm not thinking anything.
“
Stop trying to figure out what I'm thinking. It's not
that
.
”

“
Alright, Mysterious, then what
’
s going on up there?
”

“
Nothing, keep talking.
”

She squints her eyes and studies me for a few seconds.
“
Nothing?
”
she asks suspiciously.

“
Nothing,
”
I repeat with a shrug.
“
Tell me about this guy.
”

“
Well, he was a lot more attractive last night than he was this morning, that's for sure.
”
She cringes in remembrance and I can
’
t help but wonder if he was really
that
bad. As far as I can tell, she
’
s got some pretty high standards.
“
He must have been a really good kisser or something.
”

“
You don
’
t remember?
”

“
You're judging me again.
”
She points her finger at me accusingly before taking a sip of her drink.

“
I
’
m not. I just
—
you shouldn
’
t go home with people you don
’
t know. Especially if you
’
re not in a state to remember what you did the next day.
”

“
Aww,
”
she murmurs. Her shoulders relax and her face softens as she smiles at me. For a fraction of a second, her
I-could-care-less-
queen-bee persona slips and I see the girl that I know so few are really previewed to. I like her best in moments like these, when her green eyes gleam with innocence and her heart is suddenly on her sleeve. Not that there is anything wrong with who she portrays herself to be
—
bold and beautiful
—
but it's the girl underneath that seeks my company just for the sake of talking. It's the girl underneath that
’
s been writing
Dear
Madge
for the past ten years. I know it's the girl underneath whose heart broke for Daphne when she ended up pregnant;
that girl
nurtured their friendship in a situation not many people would respond to in that way.

Then, just as suddenly as she came, she disappears and Logan
’
s armor is back up. I don't mind though. I appreciate just knowing that there's more to her than what meets the eye.
“
That
’
s sweet,
”
she coos.
“
You worry about me. But it's fine. Really. I remember enough to know that all of my clothes stayed on. It was mostly just kissing and heavy petting.
”

“
Heavy petting?
”
I laugh, shaking my head at her.
“
Alright,
now
I'm judging you. Who
says
that?
”
She giggles and smacks the back of her hand against the middle of my chest.
This is why we spend our bad days together; because no matter what, there
’
s always something for us to laugh about
.

“
Shut up! You know what I mean.
”

“
How did you meet this
heavy petter
, anyway?

“
Ew! You make it sound so
disgusting
!
”
She curls her lip in revulsion and shudders before she continues.
“
I went out with Daph last night.
”
As she rolls her eyes, I take a sip of my beer, knowing an explanation is coming.
“
She let me get all cozy with this guy.
”

“
She
let
you?
”

“
Okay,
”
she concedes with a small smile.
“
I
’
m not always the best listener after a couple drinks. I guess she tried to tell me I
’
d regret it, but he was hot! At least, I thought so at the time. And it was raining and
—”

“
What does the rain have anything to do with it?
”
I interrupt with a grin.

“
It
’
s just my thing. Never mind,
”
she says, batting away the comment with a wave of her hand.
“
Anyway
, she left me at the bar with him!
”

“
She
left
you?
”
This is also something we do. She tells me her side of the story, and I whittle out the truth.

“
You
’
re annoying,
”
she says with a smirk.
“
Daphne wanted to leave and I didn
’
t. I told her I
’
d find my own way home. Happy?
”

“
Yes. Keep going.
”

She proceeds to tell me about the rest of her night, or what she can recall, and the consequences she faced in the morning. To make matters worse, after she made it back to her car, which was left at the bar, she found she had a flat tire. Luckily, Trevor
’
s tattoo shop is close by and he was able to come help her change it
—
but her trip to the mechanic to get a new tire made her late for work. Apparently, work sucked, too.