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“You got it.”
“A beer would be great.”
Pulling two off the shelf, I shut the door, pop the caps from both of them, and then join Foster at the small bar space in the kitchen where he’s patiently waiting.
“Here you are,” I say, handing the cool brown glass bottle into his hand.
“Thanks.” He offers a gift bag in my direction. “And this is for you. It’s good manners to bring a gift for the hostess.”
“I didn’t realize I was having a formal dinner party.” I set my beer on the counter. “What is it?”
“Most people do something calledopen itto find out.”
Widening the mouth of the bag, I mutter, “Smart-ass,” and then dig into the package. I pull out a solid cylinder object wrapped in tissue paper and begin to tear the delicate covering from the gift, revealing two stacked clear pint glasses. Separating them from one another, I turn them within my hands to have a better look at the printed design.
I laugh. “Is that Sir Isaac Newton?” I ask, referring to the image of a man in a wig, holding an apple in one hand while making a rock-and-roll hand gesture with the other. Underneath the bust of the ancient-looking gentleman, the wordsMy Laws Ruleare scrolled across the glass.
“The one and only. The other is a cheat sheet in case you ever play the elements drinking game again,” he adds, pointing to the pint with the periodic table of elements.
“These are perfect.” I wash them quickly at the sink and then place them on the counter, one in front of him and the other next to my beer, for immediate use. “I love them. Thanks.”
We empty our bottles into the new glasses and each take a drink. I then invite him into the living room in preparation to watch a movie. He takes a seat on the overstuffed tan sofa across from the television.
“So, how was your Christmas?” I ask, crouching down to shuffle through the film collection Chandra and I have acquired through the years.
“It was nice.” He places his glass on the coffee table. “We all went to my grandmother’s farm. She doesn’t like to travel much, ever since my granddad passed away.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a few years ago. But it makes the most sense anyhow. Her place is really the only one big enough for all of us.”
“All of you?” I ask somewhat absently, trying to weed through the large amount of chick flicks that he would have no desire to watch.
“Yeah. My aunts, uncles, and all the cousins.”
“Sounds like you have a pretty big family.”
“Kind of.”
Still sorting, I ask, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Two older sisters and a younger brother.” He sips his beer. “Both of my sisters are married and live out of town. One lives in Texas and the other in Georgia. They usually come back for the holiday, but Camille couldn’t make the flight from Georgia this year. She’s expecting a baby, and her doctor said she’s passed the flying window—whatever that means. My brother is still in high school and will graduate this year.”
“Sounds like a lot of people. Are you guys a clan or something? Do you have Team Blake T-shirts, too?”
“Yes. We wear them whenever we get together and go out to dinner. That way, the whole world knows we’re coming.”
I peek over my shoulder, smiling at him. It’s good to see Foster again. While away with my family, my entire life was all about the show and the facade. This, our friendship, is easy—low maintenance and without any expectations, comfortable and free.
“So, what do you think?” I ask, holding up three movies. “Twilight,The Hunger Games, orStar Warsmarathon? The originals, of course.”
His fingertips touch his brow. “The Force is leaning me toward the dark side.”
“I knew you would pickStar Wars. All guys have a thing for watching Princess Leia run with no bra.”
“One can’t deny the beauty of breasts and gravity.”
“I’m in it for the clothes and Hans Solo’s ass.”
