Devon’s laugh sputtered beer across the table. “What? That’s so not Jake. Like, the polar opposite.”
“He’s artsy,” I argued, thinking of his amazing projects and sketches. I took another long sip of bitter beer without even wincing. “But, no, you’re wrong.”
Evan slammed both hands palms down on the shiny wood table. “This is so embarrassing, okay? I’m usually, like, an oracle when it comes to guys. I can just…” She paused and waved her hands in front of her face before she continued, “I can visualize the guy just by looking at the girl. I can’t believe this is, what, my third or fourth guess? It’s the ocean between you two. That’s it, that’s what I’m blaming it on.” She turned her pale eyes on Devon. “Give me a hint.”
“A hint?” Devon frowned. “What kind of hint?”
“About Jake!” Evan drummed on the edge of the table fast and hard. “Here is gorgeous, smart, amazing Brenna. And she dates this mystery guy. Well, a mystery to me, anyways. But he’s not captain of the football team. And he’s not president of the student council. And he’s not sensitive and artsy. I’ve used every last ounce of pixie dust, Devon. Help a sister out.” She popped her shiny bottom lip in a pout. “C’mon, don’t leave me all embarrassed.”
“A hint?” Devon tapped his fingers on the condensation-fogged side of his glass. “About Jake? Okay. Um, I guess ‘truck’?”
“Truck?” Evan repeated and leaned across the table until she was only a few inches away from me. “Truck. Big backseat? Oooh, I know I’m right because you have the prettiest blush, Miss Brenna. Okay truck?” She took a deep breath. “Alright, where I come from, a big ol’ pickup means ‘hick.’ But isn’t New Jersey a whole lotta city? So there can’t be hicks, right?” She gave us a half-smile that let us know she was fully aware of how far she’d pushed her luck.
“Now you’re just taking potshots at our lovely state,” Devon murmured wryly. “And, can I remind you, it’s the Garden State? Okay? So stop being a terrible stereotyper.”
Evan laughed maniacally. “So many apologies. And, before we get into a battle of wits about states, I swear on baby Jesus if either one of you talk about peaches or sing that ‘Georgia on my mind’ song, I will shank you both. Not very Southern lady-like of me, but I will.” She stretched her neck to one side, then the other, bringing out a little series of pops that made her sigh. “Truck, truck, truck. Jake, Jake, Jake. Hmmm.” She pressed her lips together, squinted and burst out, “Hot older guy who owns a landscaping business?”
I felt so much relief when the waitress came back at that second, I considered kissing our frazzled server. Evan ordered a second round for herself, but Devon and I were still nursing our beers, and I was wishing I’d ordered a water or soda. Evan picked up her sandwich, took a huge bite and moaned with unbridled happiness.
“This sandwich is making me mouth-gasm.” She moaned a second time, a piece of sandwich in each hand. The deliciousness of her meal kept her busy for about three minutes before she zeroed in on Devon. “Spill. Right now. Tell me all about the mysterious Jake and his brother. My sixth sense is obviously broken in Europe.”
Devon took a huge bite of his burger and caught my eye. I shrugged and poked at my food with my fork, suddenly nervous to have Jake dissected in front of Evan.
Devon chewed, swallowed, and said, “Jake is a really great guy. He’s smart, but not a big-time academic. He works hard. Seriously, this guy could put grown men to shame with the hours he pulls. He goes to the technical school, and he’s definitely brilliant in the trade he’s doing. He’s got one of those bad boy pasts everyone talks about, but he put it all behind him now. And he loves Brenna. I’m not gonna lie…it’s slightly nauseating. But, since I’m being all honest and wearing a paisley vest, I guess I’ll admit that it’s also incredibly, vomitously sweet.”
My heart overheated like a little old lady who needed someone to wave a fan in her face to revive her.
Evan chomped on a pickle and assessed me with steady, icy-hot eyes. “A hard-working, blue-collar, truck-driving boy from the wrong side of the tracks?” The waitress came back with her drink. Evan thanked her, then caught the whiskey by the edge of the tiny shot glass and let it dive into her beer. “He sounds like perfection worthy of a toast.” She lifted her glass gingerly and announced, “To Jake, Brenna’s dream guy.”
Devon and I took our nearly-full glasses and were about to clink, when she pulled back.
“Wait. Wait a minute!” Evan’s black eyebrows pressed so low over her eyes, her eyelashes mingled with them. “All facts point to Jake being amazing. So what’s so tempting about the brother?”
“Saxon?” Devon’s voice dripped with sarcasm, grudging respect, and the fascination that that particular name always seemed to dredge up in everyone.
“Saxon?” Evan tasted the name on her lips and her smile stretched until I could see past the sharp points of her eyeteeth and back to her molars. “Saxon is the brother.” She half-closed her eyes so they fluttered slightly. “Mmm. My psychic powers are absolutely constipated. Devon, my love, hit me with another hint.”
Devon put his palms on the edge of the table and pushed back, shaking his head and blowing out a long breath. He sat back and brought his glass to his lips to drink before he answered. “No words. Just, sorry. Nothing comes to mind.”
My throat felt tight and dry, and I couldn’t make eye-contact with Evan.
“Brenna, can you give a hint?” Her fantastic kitten heel bumped my calf under the table. “Or the whole story? Or just stare into your beer like some sad old drunk. Brenna? Hellooo?”
My eyes were inexplicably pricked with tears. I stood up and looked for the bathroom. “I…uh, I have to go pee.” My hip bumped the table and everyone’s drink spilled a little. I rushed away, leaving an open-mouthed Evan and Devon staring at my back.
In the cold tiled bathroom, I put my back against the door of one of the stalls and shoved the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Why are you crying?” I whispered to myself. “Stop it. Stop!”
Maybe it was the weight of all that jetlag I hadn’t slept off. Or the strong beer I wasn’t remotely used to drinking. Or the excitement of meeting Evan coupled with the shock of seeing Devon. Or the memory of Jake’s lips on mine, urgent and a tiny bit desperate at the airport.
“You have a great time, okay?” His hands had bit into my arms and he couldn’t let go.
“It will be fine,” I promised. I didn’t say what we were both thinking. Not like last time.
“No doubt. Bring me back a shamrock or a pot of gold.” His attempt to smile at his own sad joke made his mouth quake in a way that drew-and-quartered my heart.
“Maybe just a fairy or a rainbow?” I traced my fingers over his face when he closed his gray eyes and, I knew, told himself not to worry.
“Okay on the rainbow, but stay away from those damn fairies. They steal beautiful girls away, you know.” This time his smile was slightly fuller, but it looked twice as painful.
“How do you know all about fairies and their girl-stealing ways?” I cuddled close to him and smelled the autumn-fresh, minty-clean scent that could make me salivate with one sniff.
He nuzzled my neck and whispered, “A long and embarrassing boyish fascination with Magic game cards. Do. Not. Repeat. This.”
I tightened my arms around him and whispered back, “So, were you some kind of wizard or warrior or something?”