Page 30 of Wingmen

She nodded, turning her glass on the table. “When was that?”

“Two thousand…seven? So I was ten.”

“Oh wow.”

More silence.

Dustin sometimes wondered if he should just lie when moments like this came up. Because there was always the risk it would completely kill the mood, and honestly, ithadbeen a long time ago, and he felt pretty normal now. He could talk about it without feeling like he needed to throw something across the room, at least.

He picked up his beer. “It really is fine. We don’t need to make it a thing.”

“Right.” She pushed the empty glass to the middle of the table. “God, I can’t believe I gave you shit for asking me aboutstreet food.”

He smiled, and suddenly she leaned across the table and took his hands. That was not an uncommon response girls had to hearing this information, but it was nice when it happened. Did he kind of knowexactlywhat he was doing when he told a girl all that stuff? Sure. He tried not to. But he didn’t feelsoguilty about it this time…tonight was a competition, and he came to win.

He sat forward and linked his fingers through hers and squeezed. She opened her mouth, and Dustin waited to see what would come out of it. This had actually become one of his favorite parts: whatever the person said next. Sometimes it wasreasonably thoughtful. Sometimes it was patently hilarious. Usually it was pretty boring.

“I literally don’t know what to say,” she said, in a very matter-of-fact way.

“That’s fine,” said Dustin. “I don’t think you’re supposed to.”

She looked grateful and squeezed his hands again. Now he knew another thing about her: her hands were wonderfully soft.

Elliot

The street was still busy when they walked out at eleven. They passed Dustin and Fatima canoodling in the booth on the way out, and Elliot glanced over, preparing a triumphant look. But Dustin didn’t look up. Elliot told himself he was only mad because he wanted to gloat.

“Do you do this often?” Drew asked, bending to pick up a styrofoam takeout box and toss it into a trash can. They were walking close, but not touching, and she put her hands back in the pockets of her Patagonia.

“Do what often?”

“Come to Portland.”

“Mm. No, it’s my first time here.” He frowned. “Did we not talk about this?”

She shook her head, smiling and watching her feet. “We did a lot of dumb shit about sea creatures.”

“Right.” He smiled. “I’m here til September.”

“And then?”

“Back to Tampa. Start of the season.”

She shook her head, looking up the street. “It’s so wild that you’re a hockey player. Like…what is yourlife?”

“It’s a weird life. Wait…did I even ask where you’re from? Or was it all sea creature chat?”

“Cape Fear,” she said. “North Carolina.”

“What’s there?”

“My school. A hike I like. Beaches.”

“I’ve been to Raleigh. We played there.”

“Raleighwood?” She made a face.“Not the same.”

Her apartment was off the main drag, on a side street with food carts shut for the night. She stopped in front of a door. “This is me.”