“Okay, how about…we got drunk off margaritas on our first date and ended up riding the subway all the way to Coney Island and back, chatting the whole time.”
“Aww, that’s kind of cute.”
“It is.”
“Okay, and then maybe…some prickly pear, because our relationship has been prickly,” she says.
“Ooo, good one.”
“Then we add some triple sec and lime juice. I think Mika always puts that in margaritas.”
“He does. And some sweet-and-sour mix because we are sweet and sour.”
“Love it.” We circle the items on our menu. “Should we add strawberries,” she asks, “like a few crushed on the bottom?”
“I’m not opposed to it.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Together we walk up to the bar, hand one of the bartenders our drink, and he gets to work while we crush up some strawberries and put them at the bottom of three glasses.
“We need a name,” I say.
“How about the Prickly Pair, but we spell it p-a-i-r?”
“Nice play on words, babe.”
“Thank you.” She kisses my cheek, and I smirk.
“Fuck, we’re cute.”
“I could not agree more.”
The bartender pours our drink into the glasses, and it comes out a light pink color that’s actually pretty cool. Then we set our drinks on the judges’ table, fill out a name card, and go back to our table.
We both take a seat, and I loop my arm over Scottie’s shoulder. “What do you think? Do we have a chance?”
She looks around at the competition. “I don’t know. Brad’s using a smoker with his wife, and Duncan rimmed his glass with something. Looks like…crushed-up graham cracker. Should we have done that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Margaritas are usually lined with something.”
“Yeah, but I hate that, don’t you?”
“Despise it actually. I don’t want a mouthful of salt as I drink my drink.”
I turn to her. “Scottie, are we…are we meant to be?”
She chuckles and says, “I think we might be.”
That makes me smile. I press a soft kiss to her lips just as the judges come out and Sanders introduces them as if we don’t already know them. It’s Ellison and the keeper of the quarters at the front desk. Sanders takes a seat as well but lets us know he’s just trying them in case there’s a tie.
We all wait patiently and quietly as the judges go through each drink, taking sips and making notes on a notepad. Their faces reveal nothing. They remain stone-faced the entire time, indicating zero favoritism.
So when Sanders stands with the results, we truly have no idea who the winner will be.
I glance over at Chad, who’s rubbing his hands together like the tool that he is. Brad is rocking back and forth. Duncan has his fingers crossed in front of him. And Finky’s holding hands with his wife and covering his eyes at the same time.
