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I said I’d let time happen and see how things unfold, but if I’m holding back, then how will I ever know?
So I make a resolve.
From now on, if Ford asks to hang out, I’m going to say yes. Anything more than that is down to my gut and how I feel at the time, but when it comes to friends, I’m in this completely.
Now, let’s see how long it takes for him to get sick of me.
6
Ford
Barney’s waitingat our usual table at Free Talk—named after Rodney Talkoma, one of the few prisoners who successfully escaped Kilborough Penitentiary—and I cross the restaurant to get to him. Normally I’m here first, straight from work and settled in with a beer, but not only have I been distracted all day, but we had a late shipment of parts, which required some calling around to a few clients whose cars are waiting.
“About time,” Barney says, picking up the menu before I’ve had a chance to sit. I’m surprised he hasn’t ordered already since he’s usually starving by the time he gets here, but I guess his politeness won out over his belly.
“Got held up at work.”
“I can see that. Let’s order before we do anything, otherwise, I might launch across the table and devour your arm.”
“I got something else you could devour.”
Barney laughs. “I dare you to say that around Leif.”
“Hey, he’s the one who set us up on that date.”
“Beforewe were together. He’s very possessive of me.”
“He knows he’s got a good thing.” And even though it sounds like I’m flirting, it’s the truth. Barney is cool. Straw-colored hair, chunky, pretty eyes, and a naive sweetness that basically radiates from him. We both knew right away our date was a dud, but something else between us clicked. An easy friendship that led to almost weekly catch-ups.
With any luck, Orson and I will end up the same way. And after dinner with him last night, I’m confident we’re heading in that direction. He’s easy to talk to … and look at. And when I flirt with him, I mean it, even though my gut tells me it’ll go nowhere.
Our server comes over and takes our order, allowing Barney to finally relax.
“Soda?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to order that.”
“Eh, trying something different.”
He eyes me, confused. “Since when do you pass up a chance to drink?”
“Maybe I’m watching my weight.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah. Me too,” he says dryly, patting his stomach. “What’s the real reason?”
“It’s nothing deep. I had dinner with someone who doesn’t drink, and it made me realize how much I do. Figured I’d see if I’m just as charming without it.”
“That answer wasn’t anywhere near as juicy as I’d hoped for.”
I laugh. “Sorry to disappoint. Three things?”
“I’ll go first.”
Three things is something we came up with early on to make sure our dinners are never awkward. Each of us lists three things that are new or different since we last met up, which gives us shit to talk about, and even though we don’t need it anymore, it’s a habit. Plus, I think it gives Barney something to focus on throughout the week.
Barney holds his hand out and ticks off his things on his fingers. “We finally got those Build Your Own Kill Pen sets for the store.” The tourists will love them. “I think I’m developing an allergy to coconut, and Leif bought a swing.”
I almost choke on the water I’ve taken a sip of. The way the pink in his cheeks is deepening tells me it isn’t your standard swing.
“Obviously, there’s one of those things I want to expand on first.”
