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Also, I now cannot get the picture of that little old lady on the fast-food restaurant commercials saying “Where’s the beef?” out of my head.
Finn grins so hard, a dimple pops up on his left cheek.
“Yo, Chloe,” Drew says, arriving at the table and saving me from further embarrassment. He’s flashing nice white teeth, too, and I want to throw my arms around him in thanks. Before I can, though, Finn moves between us.
“Hiya, Drew,” I say around Finn’s broad shoulders.
“Hi, Drew,” Finn says.
“Hey, Finny. Nice penguin suit,” Drew says back.
The brief greetings are full of brotherly love, both men clearly happy to see the other even though it’s also clear they like to give each other a hard time.
“Chloe, it’s great to see you again. How are things with this guy?” He thumbs over at his brother. “And please speak freely even though he’s standing right here.”
I giggle. “Things are fine.”
“Fine? Bro, you need to up your game.” He tosses an impish smile at Finn that morphs into a flirty one when he meets my regard. “When you get tired of hanging out withfine, make sure you find me, okay?”
“Okay.” Drew wears his designer tux with much more ease than Finn and is so easy on the eyes I think mine might roll out of my head.This is your brain on too much champagne talking.
“You got something on your shirt,” Finn says, pointing to the middle of Drew’s chest. Drew looks down and Finn lifts his hand to catch his brother under the nose.
“Damn you,” Drew says with very little heat.
“Every time,” Finn says to me with a smirk.
A server walks by with a tray of shot glasses, each one filled with bright blue liquid and decorated with a lime wedge. “Hey, thanks.” Drew takes three, placing one in front of each of us.
“What is this?” I ask.
“It’s a Bazooka Joe,” Finn says. “Our dad has loved the bubble gum since he was a kid so this has become his signature party drink. You in?”
“Sure.”
“Cheers.” Drew lifts his glass. Finn and I follow suit and the three of us clink Bazooka Joes before tossing them back and then banging our glasses on the table.
“That tasted exactly like the gum,” I say before I wrap my mouth around the lime to curb the sweet flavor.
“Yeah,” Finn agrees, making a face. Poor guy. I’m guessing the drink is too sugary for his pro athlete taste buds.
Finn and Drew talk for the next couple of minutes but I have trouble keeping up with the conversation because I have definitely exceeded my alcohol limit. I smile and nod like I’m paying attention when really, I’m dreaming about a big juicy hamburger (damn you, “where’s the beef”) and french fries.
A man stops to say hello, introductions are made, and then he and Drew stride away. Elbows on the table, I cup my chin in my hand and look dreamily at Finn. “Your nickname should be Kissy Face, not Prince of Thieves.” His team nickname is a play on his last name and the fact that he constantly robs batters of hits with his phenomenal catching skills.
“Really?” He leans his elbows on the table so we’re more eye level.
“Uh-huh. Oh! And instead of black lines under your eyes, you could put lips.”
“That would go over well with my teammates.”
“Riiight?”
“No,” he says kindly, realizing I’m dead serious. At least I think I am. “They’d laugh their asses off.”
“And call you Funny Face instead?”
“You’re cute under the influence.”
