Incomplete (4 page)

She draws away just as I tackle her around the waist. Lily shrieks as we careen toward the floor. “Aidan! Reinforcements are needed!” I shout, my fingers going for her stomach. Aidan grabs a foot and shows his prowess as a tickler, Lily’s screams and laughter make me and Aidan laugh. Kicking and twisting, she is unsuccessful at getting away. I am a tickling ninja and she is my target.

“Do you know what else happens to nice girls?” I crisscross her arms as her back slumps against my chest, my legs framing hers. I feel her heart pounding and focus on that, fascinated by even that unconscious action of her body.

“What?” she gasps out, her chest rising and falling erratically.

I adopt a somber tone as I say, “They get sat on, Lily.”

“Don’t you dare,
Grayson!” Her efforts double as Aidan drops her foot. “Aidan!
Grayson.
I mean it!”

Aidan makes a surprising move and lunges for me instead of Lily. I grunt upon contact, my arms dropping from Lily. I should have known. Lily spins around, vengeance making her eyes a lighter shade of gray-blue.

“Aidan!” I holler. “You traitor!”

He shrugs, smiling widely.

Lily dives for me, moving faster than I can get out of the way. “You know what happens to boys who tickle nice girls?” she whispers in my ear, partially lying on my upper half. I go still, unable to do anything but listen. “They…get…” Lily bumps her forehead to mine. “…tickled back!” Her fingers poke my stomach through the thin shirt I wear.

“Stop!
Stop!” I yell, but I am laughing so it is ineffective. “Aidan! Help!”

“I’m hungry. I’m going to get ice cream,” he says, leaving me to my fate.

The tickling finally stops, both of us sweaty and gasping for air. My sides hurt, from laughing and from her pointy fingers jabbing at me. Lily falls to her back beside me, arms out wide as she catches her breath. “That’s too much work.”

“You know what else
is too much work?” I pant. Acting like we’re just friends when I want to be more, is the first thing that flitters through my mind. Of course I can’t say that.

Lily turns her head my way. “Trying to beat me at video games?”

I snort. “Yeah. That.”

“Would it make you feel better for abysmally losing to a girl if we bake some cookies?”

That perks me up. “Chocolate chip?”

“Of course.”

And…we’re good.

I jump
up, offering Lily a hand. I tug her to her feet, giving her a quick hug. “I love your cookies.”

“Stop with the dirty talk. There is a child present.” She gently pulls on a lock of my hair as I release her.

“I am
not
a child!” Aidan yells from the kitchen and we share a grin when the refrigerator door slams shut.

I work at a bar on the corner of Main Street—Jackie’s Bar. It’s a small red building with the bar in the center of it. This way I get to be
hassled by drunks from every direction. The irony that I’m a bartender with an alcoholic mother is not lost on me. At least she’s a closet drunk and doesn’t come out in public to humiliate me while I work. I wince at the crude thought. It was uncalled for, but true as well.

The lights are always dim and there’s a room off the side of the bar with a dance floor and a couple pool tables and dart boards set up. The main decoration to the bar is the countless photographs that line most of the walls from top to bottom; a lot of them
are of the patrons who’ve frequented the bar throughout the years. I like that about the bar; they make it homier somehow.

Once a month there’s karaoke and twice a month there’s a thing called EY
. It’s short for Embarrass Yourself but most people don’t know that’s its real name. It runs every other Thursday and goes from seven till ten at night. There’s an even bigger turn out for it than karaoke, which is apparently not mortifying enough for some people.

As I check the liquor supply to see if I need to go downstairs to restock anything, my thoughts are tugged in the direction of my nemesis. I don’t remember the exact moment Garrett and I decided we were enemies.
It could have started in fourth grade when he tripped me on the way inside from recess and I split my kneecap open and needed six stitches. Or maybe it was the day I chucked a rock at him and it grazed his cheek, slicing it open in a long, thin line of red?

After making sure there is enough booze in the immediate vicinity to hold us over for the night, I toss the wet rag on the bar and wipe it off. ‘I Will Wait’ by Mumford and Sons plays from the jukebox and I sing along, my voice low. The music clears my head, allows me to think, gives me a fleeting peace I only otherwise have when I’m with Lily.

“And they say guys can’t multi-task,” Miranda Love, or Ana, as she’s called, teases, bumping my shoulder with hers as she mixes a drink.

I flash a quick grin and wash the two glasses in the sink beneath the counter. It’s slow right now—the only oc
cupants other than Ana and me are an elderly couple drinking at a small table near a set of windows, but it will pick up within the hour. It’s Friday. Enough said.

“I’m not your average guy,” I tell her.

“I know,” she says with a sigh. “But sadly, you
are
too young.”

I laugh, but don’t say anything. Ana is twenty-two, blond-haired with big green eyes, and
is sexy as hell. Her body is tanned, toned, and shimmers with sparkly lotion that smells like vanilla. She is definitely worthy of a look or two. Or five. But she’s not Lily and she doesn’t do anything for me. I know I
should
be attracted to her, but I’m not. Clearly I have issues. Lily issues.

Ana sips from the glass of rum and Coke she just mixed, ignoring my raised eyebrow, and saunters toward the room with the dance floor. Ana likes to drink—too much. I know not
everyone
who drinks is an alcoholic, but I still get uneasy over the possibility that someone else I know and care about
could
turn into one. One drink; that’s all it takes.

She’s wearing a tight hot pink dress that hugs her lithe body like a second skin and draws the attention of the old guy by the window when she bends over the jukebox, showing a good portion of her legs. The man’s got to be old enough to be her grandfather, which is just creepy. His wife kicks his leg under the table and I turn away smiling.

‘Howlin’ For You’ by The Black Keys blares from the jukebox. Ana is dancing in the middle of the room, one hand holding her drink up, the other holding her hair away from her face.

“It is now officially seven o’clock! It’s time to party! Come on, Grayson, dance with me!” she shouts over the pounding of the music.

I shake my head, a grin playing at my lips, and glance over at the couple leaving. The woman’s expression is sour as she drags her husband out the door.

I look at Ana and she shrugs. “They were old! It was time for them to go! They should have been in bed three hours ago!”

With a snort and a nod, I go to clear their table of empty glasses, knowing the real reason she decided to blast the jukebox was because she noticed how the guy was watching her and she wanted to make them leave. It spooked her out. We’ve been working together for almost a year now, since right after I turned eighteen and was legal to serve alcohol in Wisconsin and her parents hired me to bartend at Jackie’s—Jackie happens to be Ana’s mom. We’ve been around each other a lot this last year. I know how to read Ana.

“You’re not going to dance with me?” She pouts and somehow twirls in a graceful circle wearing major high heels. How women don’t land on their faces in those things, I will never know.

“You know I don’t dance!” I call back as I dump the ice from the glasses in the empty portion of the sink and wash them in soapy water. I dry them off and set them on the counter.

“I also know you know how!”

“Shh. It’s a secret!”

Ana raises her arms out wide and looks around the empty bar before showing me her back as she dances farther away, tipping the glass to her lips as she turns from my view.

It didn’t take long for Ana to realize I was the perfect guy to become friends with—the one hung up on another girl and would therefore never hit on her. She’s been hurt, but I don’t know how and I don’t know by whom. I don’t pry. Another thing she likes about me. She flirts with me, but it’s harmless. It’s like Ana thinks she’s expected to do it, but her heart is not really into it.
I
know it doesn’t mean anything and
she
knows it doesn’t mean anything, but anyone watching us interact might think otherwise. Let them.

With Ana occupied and no longer distracting me, my reality slams into me and I’m once again back on Garrett. It’s annoying how much I dwell on things, but I can’t seem to stop. I just—I need to understand things, and when I don’t, I can’t get whatever it is
out of my head. There could be a medical diagnosis for it, but I really don’t want to know if there is. I already know I’m a certifiable head case; I don’t need to know
why
.

I grab the rag and quickly swipe it over the table, righting the chairs. Maybe I was the usurper and
that’s
why Garrett doesn’t like me; maybe he and Lily were friends before I moved to Fennimore and I took his place before he ever attempted to take mine. I don’t think so, but I don’t know. Lily has never said so. Shit, that was ten years ago. I chuck the rag at the bar and it lands on the counter as three guys walk through the door.

My eyes find Ana. She’s dancing and singing to
‘I Love It (I Don’t Care)’ by Icona Pop. I laugh when she picks up the broom and dances with it. She sees me and laughs too, dipping the broom. She stiffens when she notices her audience, quickly putting the broom away and moving to lower the volume on the jukebox. I watch as the light fades from her as she walks toward the bar and I wonder at that. What happened to her?

“Bartender.
Hit me up.” I jerk my head around to glare at the three college guys sitting at the bar. Their coordinated UW-P tee shirts make it all too obvious what they are. Idiots. The ringleader, a black-haired guy with pale blue eyes and way too much confidence, winks. “We’re thirsty,” he adds.

I stare at him with my arms crossed over my chest, waiting, one eyebrow lifted.

“Three Bud Lights,” he supplies, his eyes shifting past me. “Hey, Ana.” The guy flashes a grin, showing straight, even teeth.

“Hi,” she says shortly, turning to me. “What do they need?”

“Three Bud Lights. I can—“

“I’ll get it,” she interrupts, moving to do just that.

I frown, looking back at the snickering threesome. “You know Ana?”

“She went to high school with us in Dodgeville,” a short, stocky redhead says, a white baseball cap pulled low to hide his eyes.

“I don’t think she likes you.”

Ana slams the cans of beer on the bar, not opening them, as is customary. “Don’t choke or anything,” she says sweetly, whirling around so fast her hair lifts and fans out behind her as she strides away.

I don’t like these guys, especially the black-haired one. I want to say it’s a testosterone thing, but no, it’s more than that. Ana hates them. I know her well enough and she wouldn’t hate anyone unless there was a reason to.

“She’s such a bitch,” the brown-haired guy in the middle mutters, grabbing for a beer.

My hand stops him, my fingers tightly gripping his wrist.

“What the fuck?”

“Apologize.”

His eyes widen and then narrow. “What?”

I squeeze. “I said, apologize.”

“He was just joking,” Red says.

“I. Don’t. Care.”

“Just apologize, Mick, so he goes away,” Mister Confident advises.

Mick glares at me. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

I slowly shake my head. “Not to me.” I jerk my head to where Ana is talking to a customer near the door.

“Are you fucking serious?” Mick whines.

“I look serious.” I cock my head. “Don’t I?” I loosen my grip on his wrist and he snatches his hand back.

“You’re fucking nuts,” he mumbles as he slides from the barstool and over to Ana. She eyes him like he’s a bug, which he kind of resembles, and then glances at me after he says something, her eyes amused. She nods and he walks back to the bar, red-faced and his eyes downcast.

“Enjoy your beers, boys,” I say cheerfully, moving down the bar to
wards the customers waiting to order.

The hours grow and
the bar gets packed and loud. A layer of sweat clings to me as I run from customer to customer, hustling to get their drinks to them and their money in the register. Ana and I dance around each other, passing smiles and jibes as we work. Her parents are socializing with people they know, but they’re close enough to us to help out if we need it. I don’t have time to think, which is good. Thinking for me is always bad. But then there’s a lull and my mind is back to where it always goes to lately: the dipshit Garrett Adams and Lily. I want to roar with the frustration of it.

I rush around the bar
trying to not think about it, but just beneath the chaos that is my job it is whispering in my ear. As the years have grown, the loathing between us has escalated. I never really liked Garrett, not even when we were kids, and it wasn’t only because of Lily or our adolescent scuffles. There’s something manipulative about him—arrogant—that I can’t stand. Everything is a competition with him and I worry that that is where his interest in Lily truly lies.

Even with sports, when we were on the same team and should have been helping each other out, we were trying to outdo one another.
I mostly did it just to annoy him, but what did he get out of it? So I wonder: Does he want her because she is Lily; a beautiful and unique girl, or simply because
I
want her? I have never come out and said what my feelings for Lily are, but guys know.

I think the true moment I realized I hated Garrett Adams was the day he smiled at Lily like she was his world or at least
could
be, and she smiled back. Maybe not that big, maybe not with her whole soul like she smiles at me, but she smiled. That was the day I realized Lily’s smiles were no longer mine alone. That was the day I realized I could lose her, that everything could change, and maybe one day she wouldn’t be mine anymore, but someone else’s, even Garrett Adams’s.

That day fucking sucked and it wasn’t that long ago, just last summer. And ever since then, we have been slowly unraveling. I can’t stop it and I don’t know if I want to stop it. It’s not enough anymore, what we have. But if it’s all I can ever have, then I can’t lose it. It’s completely messed up and makes no sense and it’s killing me one misunderstanding at a time. Most days I cannot bear the thought of where I fear we will be after this summer. I feel like I’m racing some clock of destruction and it’s catching up to me.

I grab a bottle of water from the small fridge behind the bar and chug half of it, ignoring the more demanding and drunker patrons calling to me and waving their money in the air. Ana passes by, rolling her eyes as she does. Her hair is limp and her eyes smudged, reminding me of a wilting flower. She’s getting worn down too. It’s after eleven and she’s been here since five, an hour longer than I have. The jukebox is loud, playing ‘Animals’ by Nickleback, the fast beat of it giving me energy I would not otherwise have.

“Three more hours, Grayson,” Ana encourages, reaching around me for the washcloth. She wipes a spill from the counter.

“And a half.”

“And a quarter,” she corrects, tossing the washcloth in the sink.

“Details.”

“Hey.” She elbows me in the side. “Isn’t that—“

I glance up, my lungs constricting. It’s Lily. She’s standing near the door, looking uneasy, her eyes searching. Fear slams into me. Why is she here? It can’t be for anything good. I immediately think of my brother as I hurl myself over the bar, not caring that I startle the people closest to me or that I knock a drink over in my haste. There are shouts behind me and I shove my way through the throng of men and women, eyes locked with hers.