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“That’s because I’m betting it’s familiar. Wait for it.” He lifts a finger.
“Oh, he’s singing Johnny Cash!”
I start rocking out to the Irish version of “Ring of Fire” nodding my head enthusiastically with the tempo which makes my wig bob ridiculously fast on top of my head. Theo glances over at me and bursts out laughing.
“What?”
Smirking, he shakes his head, sizing up my costume. “You’re crazy.”
“Just a word to the wise. To any woman, crazy can be the best of compliments or the worst of insults. Be careful how you deliver that word to a woman.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime, my friend.”
I’m not sure why, but the mix of humor and curiosity in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat. I love that look. It’s endearing and blankets me in warmth. It’s the kind of look that tells the recipient they think you’re worth getting to know. To me, this look is always the first sign that something’s brewing.
Do I want something brewing with Theo?
He’s the first guy I’ve befriended in a very long line of penis mishaps. The friendship is already important to me, and I don’t want to ruin it. While he’s not my typical type, I find myself strangely drawn to him the more time we spend together.
“What?” He asks, sensing my stare as he navigates us away from my drive.
“Just getting used to you beardless.”
“Shit, I knew it was too much.”
“Not at all, I like it a lot. But why’d you shave it?”
“Starting a new one for Movember.”
“Ah. So, this is kinda like aerating the dirt.”
He chuckles. “Guess so.”
“Well, I like it either way. Not that my opinion matters.”
“I could use all the help I can get.”
“Ah. Trying to get lucky tonight?”
“Always.” He gives me a slow wink. His confession doesn’t sit well, but if he’s making statements like that, then maybe he’s not interested in more than friendship with me.
“Well, if you do get lucky, don’t let me get in your way.”
He draws his brows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ll call an Uber to get home if need be. Don’t let me slow you down, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, glancing at the GPS on the dash guiding us to the party.
We’re silent the rest of the way which Theo fills with a playlist of the strangest music I’ve ever heard. Russian and French rap, more Irish rock, and a side of EMO. Ears ringing when we pull up, I retrieve my flask from my purse and start to tip it back just as Theo puts a hand on the bottle to stop me.
“You don’t need it.”
“I mean, it’s a party. We’re not going to be sober in half an hour anyway. You know?”
“I do. But you need to know you don’t have to medicate. You’re tougher than you think.”
