How best to describe Allen Fairweather? 

Physically, his red hair and large build are the most immediately notable thing about him. As long as I’ve known him he’s been heavy-set, but with the confidence of someone who’d never been body shamed in his life. Personally, I admired that about him, the way he exuded comfort in his skin and seemed to own every room he walked into. 

At least, I admired it up until the times when he’d act like he literally did own every room. It was obvious when we’d met that he’d grown up the big man on campus (or, in this case, town) and no one had done much to challenge that crown. 

When he and Rose first got together and we’d met his friends, it seemed that everyone was happy to defer to him as the leader. Maybe it made sense– this was a group of people who’d been born and raised together in the same small town, likely lived through the same formative experiences. And Allen was a natural leader, always the one throwing the parties or knowing a little something about everything. He was funny, too, in a snarky way. 

So, if Allen rubbed me the wrong way sometimes, it wasn’t because I thought he was a bad guy– I think we just butt heads because we’re both used to being the center and having our own way. If I’d wanted to spend time with Rose alone, no boyfriends allowed, I’d never been shy about putting my foot down, and the first few times it had shocked the hell out of his social circle (they who always did everything together, which had shocked me). For his part, I always thought Allen kind of enjoyed that I challenged him. 

But that was then, and I hadn’t seen the man in five years. I had to wonder if he’d changed as much as I had. He must have matured a little, to get Rose to commit. 

“Damn, Clarke, it really is you! I half thought Rose was making shit up,” he said, clasping my hand and pulling me in for the bro-iest of back-slapping half-hugs. Ah, straight boys. Straight-presenting, at least. Wasn’t any of my business, but I’d always thought I’d caught a vibe. 

“It’s really me– accept no substitutions,” I said when he finally released me. 

“Rose sure wouldn’t– pretty sure she talks about you more than her own fiancé.” He clapped me on the shoulder this time, hard but playful, no jealousy behind the teasing. My sexuality had never been anything but glaringly obvious, and no man had ever feared I’d steal his girl (convince her she was too good for him, sure, but never for personal gain). 

“She may love me the most, but at least she’s willing to marry you,” I mock-consoled him with a tip of an imaginary hat. Allen nodded, grin broad, before turning to wave down Miles. 

As a fellow (former?) bartender, I did cringe slightly– the wave-for-attention is rarely the best look, especially not from someone who’s barely been at the establishment for a minute. Fortunately Miles was made of less sensitive stuff and he ambled over with what I suspected was his default good humor. 

“Barkeep, a round of tequila shots, please!” Allen boomed. When Rose and I both recoiled, he was undeterred, nudging my side. “We have to celebrate, obviously.”

The wedding? My return? He didn’t specify, but when Miles caught my eye (oh hell yeah to that consent), I shrugged in acquiescence. I was hardly a stranger to the hard stuff, and it wasn’t like I had a job to get to in the morning. 

Or ever. 

“Cheers!” Allen said as we raised the glasses of clear liquid I definitely wouldn’t regret on an empty stomach. 

“To the world’s best bride!” I added, knocking mine back. It actually wasn’t too bad, more flavor than burn. Miles kept a quality well, it seemed. Too bad I’d promised not to let him drag me behind it and have his way with me. 

Fortunately Allen followed up the shots with his own beer, allowing Rose and I to settle back to ours. My friend had not been exaggerating the quality of the Haven’s draft list– even without the temptation of the gorgeous proprietor, my repeat customer status was all but cemented. Miles had poured me five different tasters, and they varied from everyday craveable to wholly unique adventure. Even the milk stout was delicious, and I usually fucking hate those. 

Allen was clearly also a Sylvan Brew Co far, or at least found the beer palatable, as he practically chugged his pale ale before swiftly ordering another. 

“I’ve got to catch up,” he said with a smirk towards my board. As if the number of glasses, not the volume of liquid, was the target. So, he still had a strangely competitive streak. But maybe he’d take it easy if I got him talking about himself. 

“Wild that you two are engaged, huh?” I said, tipping my glass his way. “I’ve got to admit, Allen, I didn’t know you were the marrying kind.”

When he and Rose had dated back in the day, keeping things casual had been important to both of them. For Rose, it had been largely because she’d been coming off a co-dependent multi-year college relationship. For Allen… actually, I guess I never knew. I don’t think he talked about exes, at least not with me, and we’d definitely never gotten into what he wanted for his future. He’d always struck me as someone who lived mostly in the moment, like me. Me now, anyways. 

Something flickered, ever so briefly, in his eyes, making me worry I’d touched a nerve. Before I could be sure he grinned and leaned into Rose, cupping the back of her neck. 

“Marriage is all about stepping up, isn’t it?” he asked, his thumb stroking the side of her throat. “You’ve got to let the people who matter know they’re worth sticking around for. That you’ll be with them to the end. So many people are just blips on the road, but when you find a keeper you hold on.”

Rose let out a pleased little hum, leaning into his touch. I tried to make her happiness my focus, but it was easier said than done. It was sort of a weird rationale, for a relationship between a couple who’d broken up several times already. I doubted Allen was thinking too historically about it, but the implication that some people weren’t worth sticking around for was one I took rather personally. 

“Plus, we’re at that time of life, aren’t we?” he went on, puffing up his chest a bit. “Rose and I are both successful at our jobs, established in our community; landowners, even. Why wouldn’t we want to add a stable family life to everything else we’ve achieved?”

OK, was he trying to make a jab? I wasn’t sure if Rose had apprised him of all the gory details behind my return, but he wasn’t stupid– he knew that most people with stable lives didn’t drop everything to crash on a friend’s sofa bed for three months. At least, not anyone I’d ever heard of. 

“Excuse you with that ‘time of life’ crap, making us sound dull– I’m still super young and cool, thank you very much,” Rose teased. Since my birthday was three weeks after hers, I supported the proclamation. 

“Fine, you got me,” Allen said, throwing a mischievous grin my way. In a faux-whisper, he added, “I really just wanted to have a hot, young wife.”

“I always knew you were a cliche!” I teased. The tension in me unclenched. Allen hadn’t been doing anything but answer my questions; if I was feeling bad about his success it was–

“Cliches are reliable,” Allen said, taking another long sip of his beer. He caught my eye and held it. “But I guess some people think reliable is boring. It’s not really your thing, right? Rose tells me you’ve lived basically everywhere by now, can’t stop moving. Exciting stuff.”

“I wouldn’t say everywhere,” I hedged, shifting on my stool. “But… yeah, I’ve done some traveling. Seen the country, anyways.” 

“Looking for something in particular?” Allen asked, and there was definitely a point in his blue eyes now. “Or… someone?”

Oh. No. He. Didn’t. 

Maybe Allen didn’t realize he was poking at a wound that hadn’t fully healed, but I sure as shit was not going to take it. 

“Oh trust me, that’d be totally unnecessary. I don’t chase; I get chased.” I finished off the last of my beer, staring him down as I set the glass slightly harder than necessary on the bar top. 

Proving that he did still like it when I sniped back, Allen’s grin grew twofold. Rose’s groan was only barely audible– we all knew we were in for a hell of a summer. 

“More shots!” Allen declared some hours later, his drink-ordering arm shooting up. This time, Rose put her foot down. 

“Not on your life, mister,” she said, hand firm around the water she’d long since switched to. “It’s getting late and we–”

“No fun,” Allen said, booping her on the nose. Never the best sign for sobriety. “Harper will do another shot with me, right? Harper’s all about fun. No rules, no rent, no worries. Shit gets un-fun and he’ll just scamper off to get ‘chased.’” 

I can’t explain why because I don’t think he was quite making sense, but his use of air quotes was both confusing and offensive. 

“Al, you’re being rude,” Rose chided. At least she got it. “It’s time for all of us to go home. Miles, will you put it all on my tab?” I winced at that, but didn’t exactly have the means to protest. Allen pouted at me in what I thought might have been an apology. 

As we settled up, Rose deftly fished Allen’s keys from his pocket– fortunately to no argument. Her own set were already sitting on top of the bar, and she nodded towards them. 

“He’s a real cuddly drunk, so I might wind up staying the night. Want to just drive yourself home in my car?”

Most people assumed that since I didn’t own a car, I didn’t know how to drive. Fortunately Rose knew better– not only was I an excellent driver, but back at school, I’d driven her car almost as often as she had. However, while I hadn’t had nearly as much to drink as Allen, I also hadn’t switched to water like Rose. 

“I’ll wait it out here a while to sober up, but then I can bring your car back, yeah. Or come pick you up.”

In the meantime, I could and did help her escort Allen to the parking lot. Whatever bitchiness briefly roused in him had subsided, a sweet inebriate left in its place. Honestly, the hardest part was convincing him to stop hugging me long enough to get him buckled in. 

As I trudged back into the not-quite-empty bar, Miles was waiting for me with a fresh glass of water and a bowl of trail mix. The bar’s kitchen had closed almost an hour ago (he’d made sure to warn us in advance), so it was extra sweet of him to find me something anyways. We’d gotten fries towards the beginning of the night, but that felt like a lifetime ago. 

“You are very good at this,” I said gratefully, gesturing generally around the space as I accepted what was probably going to pass for my dinner. Although maybe I’d get lucky and find out Rose had a frozen pizza in the fridge or something. 

I tapped my fingers against the bar top as I waited to sober up… the empty bar top, apart from my glass and bowl. No car keys. I patted my pockets– surely I’d swiped them before going to help get Allen to the car?– but not there either. 

“Miles, sorry, did you happen to grab Rose’s keys?” I asked, trying to sound cool and not at all panicked. Not like literally the first thing I’d done when given a little responsibility was to utterly bomb. He shook his head, but helped me look around. For the first time in history, probably, a spotless bar was a bad thing. I ran around the parking lot, but to no avail. Praying that Rose’s keys hadn’t actually been stolen (though at least the car was still here), I dialed my possible-executioner. 

It took a few rings, but when Rose answered she sounded immediately worried. 

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, rushing to pull off the bandaid. “I think I– I can’t find your keys. Maybe I was holding them getting into Allen’s car and dropped them there? I’m sorry, but we’ve looked everywhere.” 

I had no memory of having them by his car, but I’d rather be a forgetful idiot than utterly careless. 

“OK, we just got to his place– Al, hon, can you? No, not–”

A long pause. I couldn’t tell if she was actively searching or fending off her snuggly future husband. Either way I knew it wasn’t how she’d planned to end her night and I felt kind of awful. Relief flooded in though when she finally returned to the call. 

“I have them,” she confirmed, and I let out a breath so deep even Miles turned to look at me. I gave him a thumbs up, as if he genuinely cared about my whole mess. 

“Thank god,” I said. “Sorry, I must have–”

“No, Harp, I think it was my fault, I found them in my purse. I must have grabbed them on autopilot when we left. If you can wait a little bit, I’ll come back and get you.”

“No, it’s fine– I’ll just walk home,” I told her. I was used to walking everywhere from city living, and her house wasn’t that far from downtown. 

“Harper no, it’s–”

“We’ll get you home,” Miles interjected. He’d wandered down to help a patron at the other end of the bar and I hadn’t even realized they could hear me. His voice carried so well that apparently Rose could hear him too. 

“Thanks, Miles!” she said, her voice raised to a level my ear hadn’t been prepared for. There was a thump on her end, so I guessed she’d surprised Allen with it too. “Harper, don’t walk, OK? I know you’re used to it, but it’s late and a lot of the roads around here don’t have street lights. Plus, it’s supposed to pour tonight.” 

I knew arguing with Rose was generally futile, so I skipped any half-hearted protests and promised I’d be safe. Once I hung up, I added a quick text post script

If Miles offers to bring me to *his* home, all bets are off.

I looked back towards my knight in tattooed armor with a wan smile and made my way down to that end of the bar. 

“You know, I don’t usually let guys take me home the first night,” I teased. Also, lied. “But if Rose says I can trust you, that’s good enough for me. Thanks, really.”

Miles shifted on his feet, looking… guilty? 

“Well, I hope the transitive property applies to trust then,” he said with an awkward laugh. “I’ll be stuck for a while closing up, but Reid here said he’ll be happy to drive you. No one I’d trust more to see you home safe.”

The man at the end of the bar, who’d been doing something on his phone, cocked his head at Miles in a way that made me certain he’d volunteered no such thing. But then he shrugged, turning on his stool to face me. He smiled at me in an easy way that showed no recognition. 

Which was funny, because he sure as shit looked familiar to me. In fact, he looked a hell of a lot like the man who broke my heart and sent me running from this town in the first place.