Beer Goggles Anthology Read online

  Just as quickly as it appeared, it disappears. I shouldn’t have called it a mistake, but what else would I call it when she doesn’t remember it? Everything I thought we both felt had only been one-sided and it fucking hurts. For four years I’ve longed to touch her, to feel her, but we’re co-workers so I acted like a jackass. On Saturday, her with the hair, makeup, and that dress finally wore down my resolve.

  “A mistake,” she whispers. “Okay, yeah a mistake.” Her whole demeanor changes and guilt plagues me. She yawns widely, and loudly. “I hate to be rude, but I’m starting to get tired.”

  “Of course. Do you want me to help you clean up?” She shakes her head. “Will you be back tomorrow?”

  “Hopefully I will be.” I offer my hand when she moves to get off the chair, but she waves me off. “Thank you for dinner and checking on me. That was really cool of you.”

  Taking the hint, I stand up and make my way toward her front door. “Can I maybe pick you up tomorrow and take you to school?” I’m not sure what exactly I’m doing, but all I know is I want to erase the look I caught on her face when I said what happened between us had been a mistake.

  “Um, no, that’s okay. I can drive myself, but thank you.” I expected that. My words hurt her feelings, but she doesn’t even remember everything. I shouldn’t have come here—this was a stupid move and I opened my big mouth and screwed it up…again.

  “Okay, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Brenna follows me to the door. “Yeah, see you tomorrow. Thanks again.”

  I get in my car, and before I pull away I see that Brenna is standing in the doorway. I give her a short wave, which she returns.

  It’s been a week since I brought Brenna dinner and hurt her feelings. She’s been cordial to me, but that’s it. We weren’t really friends before, but there is even more of a distance between us now. I lead my class up the stairs to our room, with Brenna and her class walking ahead of us. My eyes keep drifting to her heart-shaped ass, but I have to look away before I get an erection.

  We reach our room. “Okay, guys, let’s get settled quickly so we can begin.” They’re a good group of kids and follow my directions perfectly. “I’ve graded your pop quiz from yesterday and I’m proud to say that everyone got a ninety-four percent or higher. You know what that means.”

  In unison, they all call out, “Pizza party!”

  Four times a year I give a completely random pop quiz. It could be about the math that they’re working on, English, spelling, or history. If the entire class gets over ninety percent, then on the Friday of that week I get pizza for them.

  “You’ve got it! You guys did great and these were your best scores yet. I’m really proud of you guys and the work you’ve done. Now that that’s over, let’s get down to business. Stephanie, go around and collect everyone’s outlines. Then you’re going to take them to Ms. James’s classroom and she’ll give you the outlines from her students. We’re going to critique them and make notes and they’ll do the same.

  “I want you to look to make sure it’s clear in the intro what their topic is. Then in the body, focus on whether the bullet points give you enough info that you could write the paper yourself. In the conclusion, ask if the info they give ties it all together. If you do it right, this should take you at least a half hour. When you’re done, I’ll look over your notes and we’ll see if they can work on improving their outlines at all.”

  Stephanie collects the papers and then disappears next door. She returns a short time later with the other classroom’s papers and they begin to work.

  I walk toward the door that leads to the little hallway that separates my room from Brenna’s. She’s sitting behind her desk typing away on her keyboard. She stops and looks toward me. I should step away, but I don’t. I lift my hand again and wave to her. All I get from her is a chin lift and then she turns back to her computer. I need to walk away, but I don’t. She’s wearing a little makeup today and it gives her a subtle, natural look.

  Her hair is in a knot on the top of her head so I’m able to see the graceful length of her neck. Brenna’s wearing an oversized sweater the color of cranberries and a pair of black leggings that mold to her gorgeous ass. Black riding boots don her feet. Such a simple outfit, but fuck me, she’s beautiful and I fucked it up.

  “Mr. Browning,” one of my kids says, and it pulls me away from the hall. It’s time to get my shit together and not let this distract me anymore.

  Chapter Seven

  Brenna

  My eyes are closed but I can hear my baby sister talking to the lady giving her a pedicure. I picked up Julia this morning and took her to our favorite little breakfast place; we both ordered Belgian waffles buried under strawberries and whip cream. She’s a great distraction from my thoughts, but that’s not the only reason why I have her over—I love hanging out with her. It’s just she’s also keeping me from thinking about Declan.

  Hearing him refer to our night together as “a mistake” stung. I know part of that is my fault because I didn’t remember, but I had been prepared to tell him my memory returned right before he slammed the door shut on the thought of us as a couple.

  This whole past week I’ve caught him watching me, in a non-creepy way, from the door that separates our rooms. He would wave and I’d give him a chin lift and I’d go back to my lesson. We’ve only talked a little bit and not about anything personal, but we’ve never really talked much before anyway.

  I hate that things are awkward now. What I wouldn’t give for things to go back to the way they were. Then maybe these feelings I’ve been having would go away. Shit, I think about him all the time, and sometimes those thoughts are highly inappropriate. Great, now I’m thinking about having sex with him.

  “Sissy?” My attention goes back to Julia.

  “Yeah, honey?”

  She lifts her foot up. “Look at my pretty toes.” I glance over to admire her hot pink nails.

  “They’re beautiful, honey.” I look down at the girl doing mine and ask, “Can you do mine the same color?” She nods and begins painting them.

  When our fingers and toes are done, we walk hand-in-hand out to my car. Julia climbs in the back and I hear the click of the seatbelt. “Okay, squirt, it’s dinner time. Where should we go? No McDonald’s.”

  “Can we go to Olive Garden? I love their breadsticks.” She’s the only ten-year-old I know that isn’t a picky eater.

  “Yeah, we can go there. Are you going to get the eggplant parmigiana?” I don’t know how she can eat that, but she does and loves it. How many kids like eggplant?

  “Of course I am. It is my favorite, you know.” I swear she’s ten going on sixteen sometimes. Tricia says it’s because she’s trying to emulate me, which is sweet. It makes sense and Hank swears he’s going to be like Ethan when he grows up and be in the Army. My sweet baby brother lives in the Go Army t-shirt that Ethan sent him, and refused to take it off for the first week he had it.

  “Yes I know, and yes Olive Garden sounds good.” She cheers from the back and I make my way across town, pulling into the almost-full parking lot. “Baby girl, it looks like we might have to wait. Is that okay?”

  “Yep, I can wait.”

  Inside, I get one of those little vibrating squares that will go off when our table is ready. Thankfully they said it was only about a ten-minute wait since there are only two of us. We sit side-by-side and she plays on her tablet while I read on my phone.

  When the doohickey goes off, Julia and I go up to the hostess stand and they led us to a little two-top table by the windows. Our waitress stops by and we both order raspberry lemonades and then she disappears to grab our drinks. “How’s school?”

  Julia is in fifth grade, but she’s in a school across town. “It’s good, but I wish I went to your school so you could be my teacher.”

  I grab her hand. “Honey, you know if you went to my school I couldn’t be your teacher. Just like when Dad and your mom got together, Ethan couldn’t be in her class
since she’s his step-mom. Those are just the rules.”

  Our waitress brings our drinks and takes our orders before disappearing again.

  We’re just digging into our salads when Julia leans forward. “Sissy?”

  “What, baby?”

  She leans closer. “There’s a man at the table next to us who keeps staring at you.” I casually turn my head, and karma has to be punishing me for something because Declan’s at the table with an older couple who seem to be his parents—his father is an older version of him—along with a third man closer to Declan’s age. It’s probably his brother, because they look almost exactly alike. Declan knows I caught him staring so I give him a little wave. I’m surprised when he stands up and comes over to our table.

  “Hey, Brenna. How are you?”

  “I’m good, thanks. You?”

  He flashes me a smile. “Good. Just having dinner with my family.” Declan turns his attention to Julia, his smile growing. “And who is this?”

  “This is my sister, Julia. Julia, this is Mr. Browning. He teaches fifth grade too.” My sister gives him a huge smile and I can tell she’s smitten already. Dad and Mom squared are going to have their hands full with her. Inside I’m laughing with glee. She’s already boy crazy.

  He grabs Julia’s hand and kisses the back of it. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, and you can call me Declan.”

  “Declan,” she says with a dreamy sigh, and I roll my eyes. Declan catches me and gives me a wink. A wink! Who is this man and what has he done with the real Dickhead Brown Noser?

  “Ladies, I’ll let you get back to your dinner. Julia, it was very nice to meet you, and Brenna, I’ll see you later.” My eyes follow him as he goes back to his table. I notice his mom is watching me with a smile on her face. What’s that all about?

  They leave shortly afterward, and then our waitress comes and asks if we want dessert. We decline because I already have stuff at home to bake a cake. When she returns, she doesn’t bring our check. “Can we get our check, please?”

  “Um…the gentleman that was sitting across from you paid for your meal.” An unfamiliar warmth spreads through me.

  “Oh, well thank you.” She walks away so I throw a twenty on the table.

  “That was nice of him. Is he your boyfriend?” Julia chirps from across the table.

  “Yes it was very nice, and no, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend.” Is he? Are we friends now?

  Julia is asleep in my bed so I’m sitting in the living room watching TV. After dinner, we came home and made a cake and watched Clueless. She made it through half of Legally Blonde before she was snoring softly on the other end of my couch.

  I grab my phone and thumb through my contacts until I reach Declan.

  Brenna: Hey, I just wanted to say thank you. You didn’t have to pay for dinner, but thank you.

  Almost immediately he responds back.

  Declan: You’re very welcome and I was happy to do it. Your sister is a cutie.

  Brenna: Thanks, she is. She crashed on me already I must bore her.

  Declan: I’m sure that’s not it. I could tell she loved being with her big sister.

  Why is all of this giving me a warm squishy feeling in my belly? I’ve always been a little awkward around the opposite sex. Plus, looking the way I do attracts the kind of guys who want a trophy babe, or think I’m all looks and no substance. When I show them that I have a functioning brain, they’re usually turned off immediately.

  Brenna: Do you want to come over?

  I hit send before I can delete it.

  He doesn’t answer me right away and I start to regret sending it, but then my phone dings and I pick it up to read his message.

  Declan: I’ll be right there.

  I put my phone down and then quickly climb off the couch. In the bathroom, I brush out my hair and quickly braid it, and then brush my teeth. I’m wearing red leggings with white and black checkered leg warmers over them. Up top, I’m wearing a white ribbed tank top with an oversized black cardigan.

  Back in the living room, I swipe Chap Stick across my lips. A faint knock on my front door has the butterflies in my stomach beginning to take flight. I look through the window and see Declan on the porch. Taking a deep breath, I pull the door open. “Hi,” I say as I push the screen door open.

  “Hey.” His voice has a soft, rough quality.

  I shut the door behind him and he stands right inside with his back to me. I step around him. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Okay. Have a seat and I’ll grab you a pop.” Declan sits on the couch and I grab us each a pop and head into the living room. “Here you go.” I sit down and bend my knee on the couch so I can face him. “You and your brother look so much alike.”

  “Yeah, growing up everyone thought we were twins. We get together for dinner once a week so Mom can keep a pulse on us and what’s happening in our lives.” I watch his throat work as he drinks some of his pop. “So tell me how you have a sister that is that young.”

  “Well, Julia and our younger brother, Hank, are my half-siblings. My mom died when I was twelve, and when I was fourteen my dad met Tricia. A year later they were married, and a year after that Julia was born and then Hank. I love them a lot and even though there’s a big age difference, we’re still close.” I take a drink of my pop.

  Declan grabs my hand. “I’m glad you texted me. I wanted to clear the air.”

  My heart beats wildly in my chest. “Clear the air?”

  “Yeah, I’d love for us to go back to the way things were before the Christmas party.”

  Why do those words hurt? I mean, come on…he’s Dickhead Brown Noser. He’s supposed to be the enemy. I shouldn’t be affected like this, and I definitely can’t let him see me be affected, either. I’ve got mental whiplash from the mixed signals he’s been sending, or maybe I’m just too stupid to get that he was just being nice.

  I just nod my head to answer his statement because I don’t trust myself to speak. He looks relieved and I want to punch him in the face.

  He stands up and I follow suit. We head silently to the door. “I don’t have a lot of friends, Brenna, and I’d hate to lose the friendship I feel like we’ve been building or could potentially have.”

  Declan pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tight. I stand in the doorway and watch him pull away. Once his car disappears from sight, I shut and lock the door. I move to the couch and it’s not until I sit down that I realize I have tears running down my cheeks.

  The End…For Now

  Brenna and Declan’s story will continue Summer/Fall 2017

  About the Author

  A Midwesterner and self-proclaimed nerd, Evan has been an avid reader most of her life, but five years ago got bit by the writing bug, and it quickly became her addiction, passion and therapy. When the voices in her head give it a rest, she can always be found with her e-reader in her hand. Some of her favorites include, Shayla Black, Jaci Burton, Madeline Sheehan and Jamie Mcguire. Evan finds a lot of her inspiration in music, so if you see her wearing her headphones you know she means business and is in the zone.

  During the day Evan works for a large homecare agency and at night she’s superwoman. She’s a wife to Jim and a mom to Ethan and Evan, a cook, a tutor, a friend and a writer. How does she do it? She’ll never tell.

  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Evan-Grace/626268640762539

  Twitter:

  https://twitter.com/Evan76Grace

  Website:

  http://www.authorevangrace.com/

  Goodreads:

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7788444.Evan_Grace

  The List

  By Alyson Santos

  The Next Day

  Light stabs my eyelids, and I just know some daisy-vomit window doily is waiting for me on the other side. Something has to go with the stench of past-its-prime potpourri. I guarantee there are board games and yarn balls stuff
ed in the closet. Probably extra containers of laundry detergent and steel oats too. Not even the instant quick-cook kind. The old-school kind no one knows how to make anymore.

  I shift from the pain in my back and do my best to stretch the kinks out of my six-foot frame. Bet this little mattress was fantastic fifty years ago. Now it probably stores extra coats on Pinochle night—in addition to hungover MBA grads.

  The aroma of coffee and pancakes seeps under the door. I rollover just in time to catch a swipe of…my god, is that a paw? Definitely a paw.

  I groan and release my head back to the pillow. I’m not entirely sure where I am, only that it’s not where I should be. I had one job to do when I arrived at McAllister Enterprises for my final interview yesterday. One task, and a life goal might have become a life achievement. I don’t know how badly I screwed up, but I’m pretty sure waking up in some old lady’s guest room was not on Carver McAllister’s action plan when his assistant called to invite me in. I don’t remember “cat magnet” as a preferred skill either.

  Dammit, those tiny paws. I let the thing in because I’m a sucker. The black fur ball slinks through my legs as I peek into the hallway for some clues about my location. A fifties-style bathroom and damask wallpaper further solidify the fact that once I find my wallet and phone, I’ll be catching a flight back to my job search. Those pancakes smell amazing, though—even if they make my stomach heave. Hangover rules are so weird.

  A neat row of toiletries awaits me in the bathroom. There’s even a note assuring me that whoever owns this house knows the name of the screw-up in their guest-slash-storage room. The same outfit I swear old Mr. Talbot wore in tenth grade chemistry is folded beside it, also with a tag confirming this beauty is for me. I snicker at the thought of grandpa-plaid and high-waist tweed until my reflection reminds me that there are worse options.