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They shared a look. “Vivien’s llama costume is riding surprisingly high in the ranks.” Dahlia’s voice was ironic.
“Hmm.” Calista said noncommittally. They both knew the odds of that were improved by Vivien’s computer skills.
How could she segue this into asking about Ronan’s purity status? She shouldn’t have to, but he was so confusing. Lady talk shouldn’t be this difficult. But straight up inquiring didn’t feel right because this seemed like Ronan’s own private business. Having Vivien hack the list would provide an answer, but also felt wrong. Calista wet her lips. “What percentage of the guys signed purity pledges?”
Dahlia shrugged, making her sparkling straps twinkle. “Exact percentages can be difficult when the subject is people. I mean, when you go into decimals, that’s just dehumanizing, right? What’s half a person?”
“I’m pretty good with math. Give me a number. Twenty-three guys and…” From there she could narrow down the names, or maybe Dahlia would reveal the names when listing the players, then she wouldn’t have to ask about Ronan specifically.
“Well, none, exactly.”
“None?” That stumped her and crushed her theory. Calista took a drink of her sweet icy drink. How was that hard to calculate? “Zero?”
“Right, zero.” Dahlia sounded a touch defensive and shifted her gaze to the front where the host was up to number thirty, a man in a barrel with hockey sticks glued to the outside. “Several players have indicated interest.” Her voice picked up. “Kiernan vowed he’d sign. You were there, I just haven’t gotten his signature or verbal recitation.” She huffed out a sigh. “Pinning him down has been impossible.”
“The guys may be expressing the behaviors without formally pledging?”
Dahlia turned back to her. “Exactly.”
“Men are confusing.”
“I hear you.” Dahlia took a sip of Calista’s drink. “Yum.”
Calista looked away, then forced herself to be braver. “I’m at a bar, how am I not interesting…” she wanted to say to Ronan, but this wasn’t the time or place to expose the secrets of her heart. “To any guy here?”
Dahlia’s chipper social expression shifted to a loving familial one. “Oh, sweetie, it’s not you. The women out there are half-dressed. Men are simple visual creatures, like deer in headlights.”
That didn’t help.
Dahlia must have seen that on her face. Instead of softening, she put her hands on her hips. “Calista,” she said in a firm voice Artie would love. “You’re wearing the captain’s jersey, stating your clear preference, and your head is in your computer. It would take a special kind of guy to push past that.”
“Interesting.” Calista slipped the tablet into her bag to signal she was eligible.
A devious smile curved on Dahlia’s lips. “I know it’s inappropriate, but I was thinking about your Mer-bar drama that you described for me. It was unlike you to participate like that.”
It had been fun. Calista shrugged.
“You enjoyed it, I could hear that in your voice,” Dahlia said.
Dahlia was like Piper, she knew her. Calista nodded.
“If you’re really ready to put your computer down and come play, I brought an extra costume inspired by your Mer-bar story.”
Calista tilted her head.
“I know,” Dahlia said. “I wasn’t going to force you unless you expressed interest.”
OMG, social class was working, because the urge to dress up and re-capture Ronan’s interest was pushing through her. “I’m interested.”
Dahlia did a dance move, hooked Calista’s arm, and pulled her from the booth almost before she could grab her bag. They went to the back of the bar and into a keg storage room. Dahlia went behind a row and lifted a tote from a low bench. “The manager said I could store my stuff back here.” She unzipped the heavy-duty zipper to reveal the costume.
