“Does Dan like it?” He said it casually as he picked up his beer, but it sounded like a bit of a challenge. Should I admit Dan wasn’t crazy about tattoos and was a huge reason why I’d waited so long to get mine?
“He does,” I said carefully. “He’s just not that into tattoos in general.”
Miles nodded. “Think you’ll get another one?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. How about you?” Miles had gotten his first tattoo when he was eighteen, probably to spite his mother, but he’d added a fair amount of ink since. His left arm was pretty much covered. I wondered if he had anything on his chest or back and felt warmth bloom between my legs. So I crossed them. Tight.
“Maybe. If I feel like it. Like you said, it’s a commitment.” He set his glass down. “Probably the only kind of commitment I will ever make.”
I elbowed him. “Probably.”
Over a couple beers apiece, the nachos, french fries, and later a wild mushroom pizza, we caught each other up on family news, laughed over childhood memories and some of the articles he’d written, and talked about our jobs, our workout regimens, and our plans for the summer. He told me about the book he was writing, and I gushed about the new house. It was as easy to be with Miles as it ever was, and we went back and forth between serious topics and joking around.
What we didn’t talk about was Dan. It’s not like I was avoiding the subject, and I did mention his name once or twice, but Miles never asked me about him specifically, or about the relationship, nor did he offer any details about his own love life. But I was curious.
“So are you dating anyone?” I picked up a third slice of pizza, swearing inwardly that it would be my last.
He swallowed the bite he was chewing. “Define dating.”
“Just the two of you. You pick her up or she picks you up or you meet somewhere, like a movie or a bar or a restaurant.”
“Sounds OK so far,” he said hesitantly, furrowing his brow.
I smiled. “And then you do this repeatedly, like several times a week.”
“With the same person?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” He adjusted his glasses. “You lost me there.”
I slapped his arm. I liked the shirt he was wearing—dark blue, short-sleeved, with a collar and white piping. It had a light blue chest pocket with a little penguin logo on it. I liked the way he smelled too. It was cologne, but it wasn’t overly powerful. Or maybe it was his hair product or something. He looked like the kind of guy who’d use it in the effort to look like he didn’t. “You’re terrible. Aren’t you worried you’re going to end up old and bald and alone someday?”
“I think I’d look good bald, actually. I have a really nice shaped skull.” He took another bite of pizza.
I shook my head. “What about a family? Don’t you ever want a wife and kids?” In light of how attractive I was finding him tonight, I thought it might be helpful to remind myself how different we were, how we didn’t want the same things in life. Not that I was putting any stock in the whole Madam Psuka thing, but just to reassure myself…because I was having a little too much fun, and he was looking a little too good to me. Sitting a little too close.
“A wife and kids? My dad said those things are expensive,” he said with his mouth full. “And that whole loving someone completely and forever thing? I don’t think that’s for me. I’m too selfish. Doesn’t sound fun.”
There. See? He’s selfish. All he wants to do is have fun. So just keep your pants on. I sighed dramatically, reaching for my beer. “Fine. I give up. Be alone forever.”
He swallowed his bite. “Hey, you didn’t say you would be the wife. I might change my answer if that’s the case. Because your buns are amazing. And your muffin? Outstanding.”
Setting my empty glass down, I looked at him with one brow cocked. “You’d marry a girl for her buns, huh?”
He held up a hand. “Not all buns are worth matrimony, Natalie. Yours are.”
I giggled, the two beers I’d had making me feel warm and tingly. “My buns aren’t available to you.”
“I know this. Your buns have never been available to me. It’s really unfair.”
“What is?”
“Pretty soon your buns are going to be permanently off the market and I never got the opportunity to glaze them.”
I held up a hand. “Please. You were very busy glazing other buns every summer we hung out. You did not look lonely. You still don’t, for that matter.”
He placed his palm over his heart. “My loneliness is on the inside, Natalie. You can’t see it, but every morning I die a little, knowing your buns are on some other man’s plate.”
“Oh my God.” Rolling my eyes, I gave him a punch on the shoulder. “Enough. Tell you what. You get a girlfriend, I’ll give her the recipe.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend.”
“Of course you don’t. So what do you want?”
He looked at me, and a shivery feeling brushed up my spine unexpectedly.
You.
I swear to God, I thought he was going to say it, and my entire body seized up with panic. And want. And confusion. And need. But instead of answering the question, he picked up his beer and finished it. “I want another beer. You?”
“Um, water for me please. Or I won’t be able to drive home.” Suddenly I was feeling a little dizzy. “I’ll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom.”
My legs wobbled as I made my way to the ladies room. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I acting like this? I didn’t want Miles. I wanted Dan. D-A-N Dan, right? I kept reminding myself of that as I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and stared hard at myself in the mirror over the sink. You are not a cheater.
And I wasn’t. It’s not that I never found other people attractive, but as Skylar always joked, I got the monogamy gene. I enjoyed being in a relationship, and I’d never felt stifled by it.
It’s just that Miles was doing something to me.
I have to get out of here.
As I walked back to the bar, a pretty female bartender was leaning over the bar chatting with Miles, and he was clearly turning on the charm, judging by the grin on her face. Jealousy kicked me in the gut. Not only of the way he was looking at her, but at her freedom to write her number on a coaster and slide it over to him. He’d call her, wouldn’t he? Anyone would. She had super long blonde hair and big breasts and a great smile. A Barbie doll. Maybe he’d even meet up with her tonight. Maybe they’d fuck at his parents’ house, in his old room. I’d slept in one of those beds once when we were seven or eight. Our one and only sleepover. Would he fuck her in my bed? And brag about how great it was tomorrow?
I was irrationally angry by the time I got to my chair. Angry at him, angry at her, and angry at myself. I was even angry with Dan for going out with the guys tonight. Why didn’t he want me like he used to? Why was our relationship so boring? And why was I here flirting with Miles, envying the bartender he’d probably bang heartlessly later on? I didn’t want that. I wanted to be banged with heart! And I wanted it tonight.
“There she is.” Miles turned to me. “I was just telling Jamie here about Coffee Darling. She’s new in town.”
Jamie gave me a friendly smile, which made me feel even worse about hating her. “Can I get you anything besides water, hon?”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, come on.” Miles slung an arm around my neck, pulled me close and rubbed his knuckles on my head. “We don’t see each other enough, so you should get drunk with me. You don’t have to drive; I’ll drop you off. Or better yet, spend the night at my house. Give me one night to convince you to leave that asshole and run away with me.”
“Knock it off.” I pushed him away and ran my hands over my hair. “You’re crazy.”
“She doesn’t want me,” Miles said sadly, his expression crestfallen. “She never has.”
Jamie laughed. “Then maybe she’s the crazy one.”
He sat up straighter. “I think so too. So what are you doing later?”