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Okay, that's not subtle. "How did you know?"
"There was a guy back home. They dated in high school. They broke up when she went to college, but they still talked all the time."
My phone buzzes in my lap.
"That's why I wondered about you and Dare."
"Right. Yeah." Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. "We're just friends."
He mouths no way. "I know."
"I've got it." I clear my throat. "I mean, I get that a lot. People always think we're together."
"Oh?"
"Since we were kids, yeah. It was odd to me then. I never saw him that way. And then we got older and he got really hot."
"You're beautiful."
"But I'm bigger and he's effortlessly cool. Have you seen those tattoos?" I ask.
"Are you into tattoos?"
"I never thought about it." But I am. I really am. "They always seemed normal."
"I have a few." He makes a show of standing and tapping his thigh. "Not many people see them."
I don't know how much of this is real and how much is pretend, so I nod. I don't care about Archie's tattoos. I don't care about his muscular thigh. I just don't care.
He drops his voice to an undeniably flirty tone. "You can see them. If you want."
Okay. We're doing this.
"Isn't that why you invited me here?" He looks to the general direction of my phone right as it buzzes in my lap. "If all you want is goodbye drinks, I'm game. But If you want more… what do you think? Should we finish this round and head home?"
"Yes." My cheeks flare. "Absolutely. I just need to use the bathroom first."
"Sure." He smiles and leans in to whisper, "Go get 'em, tiger."
"Thanks." I take a long sip, shove my phone into my purse, slip out of my seat, and walk straight to the back of the room. As I pass Dare, I nod follow me and move to the bathroom.
A moment later, he stands and joins me outside the single stall. "That was fast. Are you okay?"
"A little rattled," I say.
"If you're not ready…"
"I'm ready."
"Oh." He doesn't hide his surprise. "Good. Do you want me to listen to the rest?"
"No. I've got it."
He swallows hard. "You sure?"
Absolutely not. I nod anyway.
He smiles, but I don't believe it for a second.
A guy approaches, looking at us funny. "Are you in the queue?"
"No. Go for it," I say.
"Americans." He shakes his head and slips into the door.
"I should probably sit." Dare shifts back to teacher mode. He buries the disappointment in his eyes with another smile, a better one.
"You're sure you're good?"
I look into my best friend's eyes and I lie. "I've got this. Stay out for an hour after we finish our drinks. To give us time."
"I'd feel better if I was in the apartment."
Me too, normally. But for this? I look into his eyes, and I say the one thing I know will make him jealous. "I trust him."
And I see it in his eyes.
Wanting Archie is one thing.
Trusting him here?
That hurts more than anything.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
DARE
After I return to my seat, I watch Val slip into the bathroom, emerge with her makeup perfect, rejoin Archie at the table, leave.
I pay, walk home, find a bar near the apartment.
Another gin tonic in a balloon glass, with plenty of ice, and garnishes designed to bring out the subtle flavors. Lime and cucumber. Like I need the image of a cucumber in my head.
Really, the day Val asked me for hand job tips, then clarified no, I need an actual demonstration.
The image flashed in my head for a split second, yeah. I can show her this way. I can teach her, even.
Then I banished it as quickly as it arrived. There was no way I could cross that line with Val. The cucumber worked better, anyway. Sure, it wasn't the same level of hands-on experience, but I didn't lose my senses the way I would have—
The way I did today.
But, hey, this is what she wants. She's back home with a nice guy who wants to treat her right. Maybe she's naked right now. Maybe she's in his bed. Maybe she's sucking him off. Maybe she's coming on his cock, screaming his name.
Maybe Archie really is the world's best fuck.
I check my cell again. Nothing.
She doesn't need me.
She's got this.
I should be proud. No, I am proud. This is a major step for her. She's overcoming a lot of baggage to get into this other guy's bed.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I finish my drink and order another, one without a cucumber garnish this time. Besides the lack of essence-of-phallic-vegetable, it tastes the same. There's all this subtlety in the Spanish-style gin tonic. This is the kind of thing Val loves, the endless depth of the simple combination of gin and tonic.
That's one of the things I love about her, but it's not something I understand.
All right, maybe I'm not making sense. The endless supply of gin is going to my head. But I know one thing: I'm not the guy who ends up with her.
