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“IsweartoGod,you guys, if we winTwilighttrivia night I will start table dancing.”
It was Thursday, which meant it was trivia night. I loved trivia night. It combined all of my favorite things: slimy dive bars with really good burgers, an excuse to get drunk on a weeknight, and the ability to make use of all the random, obscure knowledge I’ve learned over my life. And, on certain nights like tonight, I could truly put my competitive spirit to use when we actually won.
I’d skipped trivia the last couple of weeks without Carter and Penelope here, but while cleaning out our classroom’s before the holiday break was in full swing, I found out that this week’s trivia night at my favorite bar wasTwilightthemed.Twilight. Themed. I was fairly certain that there was not one singular phenomenon that impacted my life heavier than theTwilight Saga. Growing up just outside the filming locations of the movies, and only a few hour’s drive from Forks, Washington itself, I spent many-a-weekend forcing my mom into taking me on vampire-esque road trips. I kneweverythingaboutTwilight.
The moment I saw the bar announce the theme, I was practically sprinting down the hallway that separated Juan’s classroom from my own and begging him to join me. His immediate response was a hard pass, but thankfully, his husband called in the middle of my pleading. It turned out Dante also had an adolescent Twilight phase, and the only person Juan seemed to have a soft spot for on this planet was his husband.
Three days later, here we were. And we were winning. By a landslide. Of course, I was the only person to have known that Robert Pattinson actually got his first driver’s license in the State of Oregon, since he needed it for the movie and had never gotten one in the U.K. All of the other idiots in the bar guessed California or Washington, butIknew it was Oregon. The actual filming location for the movie.
I was three drinks in and had that giddy I’m-about-to-win-a-competition buzz enveloping my skin. Drunk enough that I couldn’t drive home, but sober enough that I would remember how to order an Uber when it came time to leave. It was perfect.
Going out with my neighbors was also proving to be a helpful exercise in getting my mind off the broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, arrogantly-charming asshat that had been occupying every crevice of my mind for the past week. Dom had texted me twice with “new career” ideas, and a third time with another offer to attend an open house with him, but only if I promised thatbothof our pants stayed on.
I hadn’t responded, precisely because I felt like I couldn’t make that promise. I may have known Dominic Evans for going on a year, but prior to the last two weeks, our interactions were limited to dinner with our friends or hallway run-ins when one of us was going in or out of my apartment. The conversations in those interactions—with the exception of the night we met—were arguments and bickering.
So, all I've proven is that I’m a glutton for punishment, and no matter how much I tell myself I need to hate this man, my lust for him outweighs anything else. I simply couldn’t trust myself around him. If he wasn’t so ingrained my life already through our mutual friendships, I’d take our connection for whatever it was and fuck him until we inevitably grew tired of each other. But it was hard enough for me to keep friends, and I didn’t know what kind of god gave me Penelope, but I was smart enough not to risk my relationship with her over a casual hookup with a guy I’m not even supposed to like.
“Did you hear the question?” Dante asked me, snapping me out of my Dominic Evans infused haze.
“What was it? Sorry, hard to hear over the music.”
Juan scoffed, “You’re drunk.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Am not.”
“Don’t get sloppy, Macie. Nobody likes a sloppy drunk.”
That stung a little. I reminded myself it was Juan’s personality to be an asshole. If he genuinely thought I was being too much, or going too far, he’d say it in a kinder way…right? He was just joking? Probably. Or maybe I was being sloppy. Though, I thought I was the perfect amount of drunk.
I told myself to stop overthinking things and threw my middle finger up at him. “I’m not sloppy, I’m fun. You’re an uptight prick with a stick the size of the Washington Monument up your ass.”
God, maybe I’m more drunk than I thought. That comeback was really lame.
Juan’s lips twitched as he took another sip from his martini.
I turned to his husband. “What was the question?”
“Which song was featured in the iconic baseball scene from the first movie?”
“Oh my God, it’s like they’re begging me to win. Ilovethat song!” I shouted.
Dante laughed. “Okay, well we have thirty seconds so you better write it down.” He handed me the little dry-erase board for our table and a marker. I scribbled our answer just as the buzzer chimed and the M.C. told everyone to hold it up.
That question being the last of the game, I whooped and threw our board down onto our table as the M.C. announced our team, The Venice Menace—Venice because that’s where we live, and Menace because according to Juan, that’s what I am—as the winners. Dante laughed as he gently tugged on my arm and got me back to sink back into our booth. I noticed Juan had sunk down too as if he was embarrassed.
A flair of nerves fled to my stomach watching his reaction to my excitement.
Jeremy used to do the same thing to me when he felt I was making too much noise.
Though, a moment later, Juan smiled at me and sat straight up. “So, what do we win?”
“A fifty dollar gift card to the bar and free trivia entry for the next year!”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Juan frowned. “Because I’m definitely never coming here again. I mean…” he picked at the peeling fabric of the booth seat. “Look at this.” He then held his drink up to me. “And they do not make a proper martini.”
“It’s a dive bar, babe. Drink orders should probably be limited to beer or whiskey,” Dante said.
Juan pursed his lips before looking back at me. “Well, Macie, we’re waiting?”
