“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Your cheeks tell me my effort was not in vain.”
Cupping my hands, I place them on my traitorous cheeks and give him a dirty look. “Extreme surprise causes flushing too.”
Aidan’s eyes grow wide. “That’s it,” he says, his hand shaking with excitement. A forkful of eggs tumbles to his plate.
“What?” I’m still not over what he just did to me. I’m not sure if I should be angry. I don’t feel angry, but it seems to be the right emotion to have when your best friend does what he just did.
“Are you free tonight?” he asks, then chuckles. “Why do I even ask? Of course you’re free. I’m coming over to—”
“I have plans, actually.” I cross my arms. Now I’m mad.
Aidan waves off my plans without hearing them. “Old movies at that crappy little theater don’t count.”
“They do too.” I love those movies. Tonight they’re playingScarlett, and I want to watch it. I haven’t read the book since high school.
“Cancel that plan. I’m coming over and we’re setting up an online dating profile.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “No in every language, in every way a person can say it. No.”
Aidan crosses his arms and looks at me. “I’ll watchGone With The Windwith you.”
I twist my lips and look away. Behind the bar, a guy in a white T-shirt throws a towel over one shoulder and presses buttons on a gigantic, complicated looking coffee machine. The Bloody Mary has settled into my veins, the vodka covering me in a soft, gauzy haze. I should probably order a coffee soon.
I look back to Aidan. Excitement lights up his eyes. He senses I’m about to cave. For years I’ve tried to get him to watch old movies with me, and for years he has refused. Sappy romances are my limit.I can practically hear him saying it.
Creating an online dating profile doesn’t mean I’ll actually have touseit. It can collect dust in the farthest corner of the internet.
I reach my hand across the table. “Deal?”
Aidan places his warm hand in my own and grins. “Deal.”
6
Aidan
Natalie is probably goingto kill me. And by probably, I mean definitely.
Her face is looking at me right now, eyes peering at me from behind my computer screen. Her eyes are unique. A blend of blue and green.Sea green, she once called it. Her lips lift up on one side, a typical Natalie smirk. She always looks at me that way. It’s a mix of exasperation and indulgence. I drive her nuts, but she can’t help but love me.
I’m not doing this because I think I know what’s best for Natalie. She may think that, but it’s not true. I don’t know what’s best for her. I don’t know what she needs right now as she navigates life post-divorce. Does she need a swift kick in the ass or a gentle hug? I suppose me setting up a profile for her falls somewhere in the middle, perhaps an assertive shoulder shove in the right direction. Maybe I do think I know what’s best for her.
Leaning back in my chair, I cradle the back of my head in two hands and look at the picture I chose. I had a picture with her full, toothy smile, but I chose the smirk. She’s seated on a park bench, her long dark hair spilling over one shoulder. I took the picture last fall. We’d agreed to meet at four, and I would’ve been on time, but a student caught me after last period and asked for help with the homework I’d assigned. Natalie was sitting there waiting for me. She turned and saw me, so I took out my phone and pretended to film her.
“A rare spotting, folks.” I approached cautiously, head bent, and spoke in an accent that toed an obscure line between Australian and English. “This is the wild Natalia Animalus, so named for her thick mane and dedication to punctuality.” She laughed, and it spurred me on. I crept closer in exaggerated caution. “The Natalia is a solitary creature, preferring to live and hunt alone. In her head, she concocts stories about others of her kind.”
Natalie sat back against the bench, her legs crossed at the ankle, and smirked. That’s when I took the picture.
The guys who see this photo will never know the story behind it.A smirk meant for me will mean nothing to them. For a second, I consider taking it down and using the other one. Maybe this one is too special. A moment between best friends captured off-handedly.
The front door of my apartment opens, and Rob and Jasper walk in. Rob throws his jacket on the table, sending a half-dozen droplets of water flying onto my computer screen. I use the bottom of my T-shirt to wipe them off, then shut the computer and lay it on the table.
“Still raining?” I ask, even though it’s obvious the storm hasn’t let up.
Rob’s walking into the kitchen, his back to me, but asks, “Why was a picture of Natalie on your computer?” He pauses, whips around with eyes wide, and says, “Were you… you know… to Best?”
“No,” I say loudly, making a face. “Fuck, Rob, are you serious?”
