Page 44 of The Other Room

“Jo! You made it!” Tony came in from the bowling alley part of the building and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, giving her a tight squeeze.

“Hey, Tony!”

He sat down beside her. “You guys want to split a pitcher?”

“In,” Jo answered, and Aaron and I nodded as well.

“Sweet.” Tony flagged down the bartender and ordered a pitcher. When it arrived, we filled our chilled pint glasses and raised them for a toast.

“To old friends,” Aaron said.

“To old friends,” we echoed, and I felt that anxiety wind the knot in my stomach.

Friends. Ugh. That was not the title I wanted for the perfect woman sitting beside me. But I smiled and sipped on my beer with the rest of them, forced to endure my silent torment.

Since returning to her life, I’d seen Jo in a new light, and it was like someone had ripped open the curtains in a dark room. And this new light was blinding. And now that the curtains were open, I was desperate to yank them back shut and hope I could forget how amazing everything looked bathed in the light.

When we finished our cheers, I snorted when I saw the white foam clinging to Aaron’s mustache. “Man. You have got to shave that thing.” I laughed. “Not only do you look like a yeti, but now you look like a yeti with rabies.”

Aaron pushed out his upper lip and looked down at the remnants of beer still hanging out on the bushy beard.

“Can’t shave it,” he said, then wiped the foam away. “Chicks dig it.”

Jo snorted, then covered her nose. “Oh my God. You almost made beer come out my nose.”

“What? They do,” Aaron defended.

Jo shook her head. “No, Aaron. Chicks may dig some facial hair, but this is straight up swallowing your head. Have you ever made out with someone sporting a rough, scratchy mop on their face?”

She pulled a face, and I tried to keep mine from following suit. Not from the vision of Aaron sucking face with another yeti, but the thought of Jo kissing someone with a beard. Someone who wasn’t me.

“Agreed,” Tony answered. “They like us smooth as a cue ball.” He swiped a hand across his shaved head then scrubbed it down the smooth skin on his face. “This is what chicks dig.”

“I look tough. Like a Viking warrior.” Aaron frowned.

Jo leaned across me and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You look like a hipster, Aaron. Hipsters aren’t known for being tough.” Jo chuckled. When she retreated back to her seat, her breasts brushed across my arm and I leapt up off my stool.

“What the hell?” she said, wide eyes staring at me while I bumped into the juke box behind me.

“Sorry, I uh...” I struggled for an answer. Any answer that didn’t end with “your tits touched me, and my fourteen-year-old-self invaded my body.”

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yes. I just... leg spasm. Charlie horse!” I said it too loud, excited for an answer that made sense. Well, kind of made sense.

“I hate those!” Tony clenched his fist. “I had one for almost an hour last week. Torture. They’re like torture!”

“You need more potassium,” Aaron said decidedly. “Bananas. You should eat more bananas.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I reached down and rubbed the fake cramp in my hamstring.

“Potassium prevents muscle cramps, and bananas are high in potassium. Therefore, you need to munch on some bananas, dude.”

Wondering how in the hell my life had crumpled into a faked injury and a conversation at the bar revolving around my consumption of bananas, I just shook my head. “How in the hell do you even know that?”

“Saw it on Facebook.” He shrugged, then took another sip of his beer.

When he set down the pint, I rolled my eyes and gestured to his lip. “Seriously, man. Shave that thing. You look like you’ve got rabies.”