Dream On: A Rom Com

Corner Bar

LUCY

Corner Bar is pretty much what it sounds like, an alcove on Orange Street with the lingering scent of fish and chips mixed with beer. The perfect combination.

Deon's at the bar when I arrive, and he salutes me with his Guiness, pats the seat beside him. The place is almost empty, except for a couple guys playing pool across the room, and two women on the opposite side of the bar.

"I still feel guilty I haven't told Phoebe about Marcus," I say. When the bartender comes over, I order a seltzer.

"No wine?"

"I had two glasses, probably more."

Deon leans in and looks at me closely. "It's not that big a deal. She'll be fine."

"You think?" A nudge from the little whisperer in my head. What do men know from the nuances of women's friendships? My stomach gives a little flutter of warning. The sooner I tell Phoebe about my Marcus date, the faster my insides will settle down.

The door swings open, and Phoebe trots toward us with a "Hi guys," and a wide smile. "What's the occasion? I thought you both had dates."

"We did," we say in unison, then look at one another and laugh.

We move to a table in the corner. When the waiter comes over, Phoebe orders a gin and tonic. "I feel like celebrating. I have a date tomorrow with someone I actually want to go out with for a change, and can't believe we met at the ice cream social. In front of my parents. Not that they noticed. I don't think they noticed, do you?"

"Nah," Deon assures her. "They were a little busy."

She sits back, her eyes half-closed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," says Deon. "Why?"

"For one thing, Deon, you looked surprised to see me and don't deny it. You didn't even know Lucy invited me."

"No big deal. She forgot to mention it."

She hesitates, studying us. "Something is...you two know something I don't."

Deon's mouth opens and my eyes dart around as I try to silently warn him not to say anything about Marcus, not yet. "As a matter of fact––"

"Don't tell me, let me guess. It's good news." She takes a slug of her gin and tonic and bangs the glass down on the wood table. "I know what it is." Her smile is gigantic, as if she's swallowed a big hit from a helium balloon. "You're together. You're dating. It's about time!"

My mouth flops open and I force a fake grin. Deon's eyes are anywhere but on me, and his expression is waxy, unmoving. For a long moment there is silence as the three of us recover.

Phoebe realizes her mistake and her mouth opens and closes like a guppy. Her eyes slide toward Deon, but he's chugging his beer. He sets down the glass with a clunk and stares straight ahead.

"No," I say, and a hoarse laugh pops out. "We're still friends. Why would anything be different?" Another weird silence follows. And I still haven't told Phoebe about the Marcus date.

I wish I'd offered the Marcus news on the phone. But when I delivered the pies, Phoebe wasn't at the restaurant. Bad excuse.

Maybe the direct approach is best. Rip off the Band-Aid. "I do have something to tell you." I throw a pointed look in Deon's direction to warn him I need backup, but he refuses to meet my gaze.

"It's about Marcus. You need to know...he asked me out too. For Sunday night." My gut is telling me I've overindulged on dinner because things are roiling and twisting inside. "I should have told you sooner."