November 9
Page 57
• • •
Half an hour passes and the shots have definitely done their job. I’m feeling good and buzzed, and I don’t even mind it that Theodore is being a little handsy tonight. Amber and Glenn left the booth a couple of minutes ago to hit the dance floor, and Theodore is telling me all about . . . shit. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t think I’ve been listening to him at all.
Glenn slides back into the booth across from us and I try to stay focused on Theodore’s face so he’ll think I’m listening to him jabber about some fishing trip he takes with his cousin during summer solstice. When the hell is summer solstice, anyway?
“Can I help you?” Theodore says to Glenn, which is odd, considering he said it in an unpleasant tone. I turn to face Glenn.
Only . . . it’s not Glenn.
Brown eyes are staring back at me and I suddenly want to push Theodore’s hands off of me and crawl across the table.
Fuck you, fate. Fuck you to hell.
A slow smile spreads across Ben’s face as he returns his attention to Theodore. “Sorry to interrupt,” Ben says, “but I’m going from table to table, asking couples a few questions for a paper I’m working on for grad school. Do you mind if I ask you two a few?”
Theodore relaxes once he realizes Ben isn’t here to mark his territory. Or so he thinks. “Yeah, sure,” Theodore says. He reaches across the table to shake his hand. “I’m Theodore, this is Fallon,” he says, introducing me to the only man who has ever been inside me.
“Nice to meet you, Fallon,” Ben says, clasping my hand with both of his. He makes a quick brush of his thumbs over my wrist, and the contact of his skin on mine is scorching. When he releases my hand, I look down at my wrist, sure it left a mark.
“I’m Ben.”
I raise what I’m hoping comes off as an uninterested, lazy eyebrow. What in the world is he doing here?
Ben’s gaze slides from my eyes to my mouth, but then he focuses on Theodore. “So how long have you lived in Los Angeles, Theodore?”
So many things to process in my alcohol-riddled mind right now.
Ben is here.
Here.
And he’s probing my date for information.
“Most of my life. Going on twenty years, I guess.”
I glance at Theodore. “I thought you grew up in Nantucket.”
He shifts in his seat and laughs, squeezing my hand that’s resting on top of the table. “I was born there. Wasn’t raised there. We moved here when I was four.” He turns his attention back to Ben, and dammit, Amber wins again.
“So,” Ben says, pointing a finger back and forth between Theodore and me. “You two dating?”
Theodore puts his arm around me and pulls me against him. “Working on it,” he says, smiling down at me. But then he looks back at Ben. “These are oddly personal questions. What kind of paper are you writing?”
Ben pops his neck with his hand. “I’m studying the probability of soul mates.”
Theodore chuckles. “Soul mates? That’s graduate-level work? God help us.”
Ben raises an eyebrow. “You don’t believe in soul mates?”
Theodore wraps his arm around me and leans back in his seat. “Are you saying you do? Have you met your soul mate?” Theodore glances around the room half-jokingly. “Is she here with you tonight? What’s her name? Cinderella?”
My eyes slowly make the journey to Ben’s. I’m not sure I want to hear her name yet. He’s eyeing me hard, trading glances with the fingers that are sliding up and down my arm.
“She’s not here with me,” Ben says. “In fact, I was actually stood up by her today. Waited for over four hours but she never showed.”
His words are like icicles. Beautiful and sharp as a knife. I swallow the lump in my throat.
He actually showed up? Even after I told him last year I wasn’t coming? His words are doing too many things to me right now, and it feels all wrong since I’m sidled up next to a guy I wish would stop touching me.
“What girl is worth waiting four hours for?” Theodore says with a laugh.
Ben leans back in his seat, but I’m eyeing his every movement. “Just this one,” he says quietly, to no one in particular. Or maybe his words were only meant for me.
Speaking of Amber. Or maybe I wasn’t speaking of Amber, I can’t remember now that Ben is here and my brain isn’t functioning properly. But Amber is back.
My eyes grow wide when I look up at her. She’s looking between me and Ben like one of us is a mirage. I totally get it, because I feel the same way. Might just be the alcohol, though. I shake my head and widen my eyes to let her know not to acknowledge that she knows Ben. Hopefully she understands my silent instructions.
Glenn is walking up behind her and I try to do the same with him, but as soon as he reaches the booth, he smiles and yells, “Ben!” He slides in next to him and throws an arm around him like he’s just found his best friend.
Yeah, Glenn’s drunk.
“You know this guy?” Theodore says, pointing at Ben.
Glenn starts to point at me, and that’s when he sees the look on my face. Good thing he’s not too drunk to decipher it. “Ummm . . .” He stutters. “We . . . um. We met earlier. In the bathroom.”
Theodore chokes on his drink. “You met in the bathroom?”
I take the opportunity to slide out of the booth, in desperate need of a break. This is way too much.
Half an hour passes and the shots have definitely done their job. I’m feeling good and buzzed, and I don’t even mind it that Theodore is being a little handsy tonight. Amber and Glenn left the booth a couple of minutes ago to hit the dance floor, and Theodore is telling me all about . . . shit. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t think I’ve been listening to him at all.
Glenn slides back into the booth across from us and I try to stay focused on Theodore’s face so he’ll think I’m listening to him jabber about some fishing trip he takes with his cousin during summer solstice. When the hell is summer solstice, anyway?
“Can I help you?” Theodore says to Glenn, which is odd, considering he said it in an unpleasant tone. I turn to face Glenn.
Only . . . it’s not Glenn.
Brown eyes are staring back at me and I suddenly want to push Theodore’s hands off of me and crawl across the table.
Fuck you, fate. Fuck you to hell.
A slow smile spreads across Ben’s face as he returns his attention to Theodore. “Sorry to interrupt,” Ben says, “but I’m going from table to table, asking couples a few questions for a paper I’m working on for grad school. Do you mind if I ask you two a few?”
Theodore relaxes once he realizes Ben isn’t here to mark his territory. Or so he thinks. “Yeah, sure,” Theodore says. He reaches across the table to shake his hand. “I’m Theodore, this is Fallon,” he says, introducing me to the only man who has ever been inside me.
“Nice to meet you, Fallon,” Ben says, clasping my hand with both of his. He makes a quick brush of his thumbs over my wrist, and the contact of his skin on mine is scorching. When he releases my hand, I look down at my wrist, sure it left a mark.
“I’m Ben.”
I raise what I’m hoping comes off as an uninterested, lazy eyebrow. What in the world is he doing here?
Ben’s gaze slides from my eyes to my mouth, but then he focuses on Theodore. “So how long have you lived in Los Angeles, Theodore?”
So many things to process in my alcohol-riddled mind right now.
Ben is here.
Here.
And he’s probing my date for information.
“Most of my life. Going on twenty years, I guess.”
I glance at Theodore. “I thought you grew up in Nantucket.”
He shifts in his seat and laughs, squeezing my hand that’s resting on top of the table. “I was born there. Wasn’t raised there. We moved here when I was four.” He turns his attention back to Ben, and dammit, Amber wins again.
“So,” Ben says, pointing a finger back and forth between Theodore and me. “You two dating?”
Theodore puts his arm around me and pulls me against him. “Working on it,” he says, smiling down at me. But then he looks back at Ben. “These are oddly personal questions. What kind of paper are you writing?”
Ben pops his neck with his hand. “I’m studying the probability of soul mates.”
Theodore chuckles. “Soul mates? That’s graduate-level work? God help us.”
Ben raises an eyebrow. “You don’t believe in soul mates?”
Theodore wraps his arm around me and leans back in his seat. “Are you saying you do? Have you met your soul mate?” Theodore glances around the room half-jokingly. “Is she here with you tonight? What’s her name? Cinderella?”
My eyes slowly make the journey to Ben’s. I’m not sure I want to hear her name yet. He’s eyeing me hard, trading glances with the fingers that are sliding up and down my arm.
“She’s not here with me,” Ben says. “In fact, I was actually stood up by her today. Waited for over four hours but she never showed.”
His words are like icicles. Beautiful and sharp as a knife. I swallow the lump in my throat.
He actually showed up? Even after I told him last year I wasn’t coming? His words are doing too many things to me right now, and it feels all wrong since I’m sidled up next to a guy I wish would stop touching me.
“What girl is worth waiting four hours for?” Theodore says with a laugh.
Ben leans back in his seat, but I’m eyeing his every movement. “Just this one,” he says quietly, to no one in particular. Or maybe his words were only meant for me.
Speaking of Amber. Or maybe I wasn’t speaking of Amber, I can’t remember now that Ben is here and my brain isn’t functioning properly. But Amber is back.
My eyes grow wide when I look up at her. She’s looking between me and Ben like one of us is a mirage. I totally get it, because I feel the same way. Might just be the alcohol, though. I shake my head and widen my eyes to let her know not to acknowledge that she knows Ben. Hopefully she understands my silent instructions.
Glenn is walking up behind her and I try to do the same with him, but as soon as he reaches the booth, he smiles and yells, “Ben!” He slides in next to him and throws an arm around him like he’s just found his best friend.
Yeah, Glenn’s drunk.
“You know this guy?” Theodore says, pointing at Ben.
Glenn starts to point at me, and that’s when he sees the look on my face. Good thing he’s not too drunk to decipher it. “Ummm . . .” He stutters. “We . . . um. We met earlier. In the bathroom.”
Theodore chokes on his drink. “You met in the bathroom?”
I take the opportunity to slide out of the booth, in desperate need of a break. This is way too much.
