Untethered

17 | Slow Dancing at Speedy's

Black was her color—it was actually the color of every piece of clothing she owned. Today it was a skin-tight t-shirt with a skull and roses, instead of crossbones, and equally skin-tight black jeans with silver rivets running up the sides of her legs. The look was completed by knee-high boots with four-inch heels. She had a number of tattoos visible, and piercings in her nose, lip, and covering both of her ears. The only makeup she wore was black eyeliner and mascara with hot pink lipstick. She looked badass. At least until you saw her smile, and spoke to her, and realized that she was more like the world's most badass cheerleader.

"Lina! How are ya, babe?" After setting down a drink tray, a stack of menus, and at least fifteen empty glasses that she'd been carrying to the bar, Rosie engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug. She was skinny as a rail, but deceptively strong. She was also the only one who called her Lina. When she found out Emma's full name was Emalina, she decided then and there, in all of her six-year-old wisdom, that "Emma" was much too common for her best-friend, and gave her the "special" name.

"I'll be much better after a few beers." Emma grinned at the endearment and hugged her back.

"Damn girl," Rosie looked her over wistfully, "can you give me some boobs and I'll share my ass? So unfair."

"You're hot just the way you are," Emma laughed, and pushed at Rosie, "and you have plenty of guys drooling over you to prove it, including my big brother."

"That's true." Rosie giggled, "Although," she looked past Emma to the table the boys had chosen, "I'm not sure you're right about Evan." She sighed wistfully before turning her attention back to her friend. "Looks like you have your own drooling puppy these days."

"Don't remind me!" Emma stuck her tongue out, and tried to glower, but started giggling as Rosie dragged her over to a couple of stools at the stainless steel bar.

"I want details, Miss Lina!" she called. "I'll get the boys their beers, and then I'm off my shift—don't you move a muscle!"

~*~*~

Rosie dropped off Evan and Ryan's beers with a lot of sass and a little wink, before returning to Emma at the bar. The guys looked after her, watching the girls chattering like animated high-schoolers. After a long pull on his beer, Ryan raised an eyebrow at Evan.

"You still stuck on that girl?"

"What girl?" Evan asked, absentmindedly, still gazing after Rosie.

"Don't play dumb with me, bro." Ryan laughed. "I know that look better than anyone."

Evan had dated Rosie when they were in high school. It was hot and heavy, and really intense. Too intense. He left for college to get away from home as fast as he could, leaving her behind in the process. Somehow, after all the years he'd been away, she still made him want her.

"No clue what you're talking about, man," Evan insisted dogmatically, and then changed the subject. "You want to talk about girls though, why don't you tell me what you are doing with my sister?"

It was Ryan's turn to be evasive.

He shrugged.

"Nothing to say?" Evan raised an eyebrow.

"Don't punch me, but I..." He sucked in a steadying breath, "I love her, or as close as I've ever gotten to it, anyway. Not that it matters; she doesn't feel the same way—or she's afraid to—which is what I personally think." He shrugged again. "Either way, nothing is going on if she doesn't return my feelings."

Evan's mouth hung open, his full attention zeroed in on the man across from him.

"You love her?"