Snapshot

by Kay Cove

“Another?” A voice behind me startles me. A bartender with a short blond ponytail and a small lip ring taps the glass top counter, and I swivel around in my stool to face her. “No, thank you. I have to drive when she’s done dancing.” The bartender lets out a low whistle as she looks over my shoulder. “You might be here a while. She looks like she has stamina.” I laugh as I shake the ice cubes in my almost-empty glass. “That she does.” “How about a Coke with a lime?” “Sure. Thanks.” “How long have you guys been together?” The bartender grabs a glass from under the bar and stuffs it to the brim with ice before filling it with the soda gun. “She’s just a friend,” I automatically reply. After three years of my odd friendship with Lennox, I’m used to this question. I shut it down every time. She scoffs. “Yeah. Okay.” “What?” I ask, acting like I don’t know where her skepticism stems from. “Oh, nothing. I also stare at my friends longingly from the bar when we go out.” She smirks as she places the soda in front of me. “Want a straw?” I roll my eyes. “No, thanks.” “So, what’s the problem? Is she with someone?” I widen my eyes at the nosy bartender. “Do you have other customers? Don’t let me keep you.” She cackles. “Come on. Humor me. It’s a slow night. I’m bored and curious.” Grumbling, I fold my hands together and rest my chin on my knuckles. “We’re from two very different worlds. I might’ve given her the wrong impression about what I really am.” “Who,” the bartender corrects, t...