Page 28 of Wingmen

He didn’t.

“Because I’m soexotic and mysterious.” She lifted her eyebrows and put a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

His stomach turned over. “Oh God, no, I didn’t mean that at all.”

“They never think they do.”

The table went quiet between them. Dustin sat with his hand on his beer glass, having no idea what to say.

Fatima shook her head. “Sorry, not that I’m saying that’s you–”

“You definitely don’t need to apologize–”

“You’re very nice–”

“I really just thought–”

“Why don’t we talk about something else?” She smiled brightly. “I feel like you haven’t told me anything. Where’d you grow up?”

Dutifully, Dustin said, “Kamloops.”

“What?”

“It’s in Canada.”

“Ohh. Okay, so you’re not American.” She ate another piece of popcorn, frowning. “Why have I never heard of Kamloops?”

“It’s kind of a drive-by. There’s a lot of sports and not much else.”

She nodded. Then she leaned in and said, conspiratorially. “To be totally honest, I haven’t heard of anywhere in Canada except Vancouver and Quebec. Wait…what is Montreal?”

“A city in Quebec.” He gave her a mock-disapproving frown. “Do they not teach you kids anything about us in school?”

She pitched the look right back. “Didthey teach you anything aboutusin school?”

Fair. Damn, she was quick.

She looked pleased with herself and sat back, picking up the hijab and draping it back around her shoulders. Not hijab. What had she called it? Ducati? No, that definitely wasn’t it. Shit, he was going to have to ask her again.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “what is it called? The hijab?”

“Dupatta.” She winked, which somehow made her seem both older and younger than she was. “Don’t worry, the test isn’t until next Tuesday.”

Elliot

Drew was even better at talking than he was, which was nice because it was distracting him from wondering what Dustin was doing in that booth.

She told him a guy in her cohort had nearly drowned during a kelp survey in a tone that suggested she wished he had, and Elliot laughed. She grinned and said, “Sorry, that was mean. I’m not usually mean.” She sipped her beer and asked, after a beat, “What’s the meanest thing anyone’s ever said about your hockey?”

“You’re asking me to volunteer that?”

“I’m a stranger.” She put her hand on her heart. “We’ll never see each other again after tonight.”

“Oh,that’sthe deal?”

She winked, lifting one shoulder. “That’s the deal.”

Perfect. He sipped his beer and thought about it. “Somebody wrote that I was just the new version of an older guy. Actually, a bunch of people wrote it. Everyone, pretty much.”