“Oh, I see,” Jackie narrowed her gaze on me. “So you were a puck bunny even then?”
I cleared my throat. “I was?—”
“Yeah, big time puck bunny,” Dustin interjected. “What can I say, rugged men with skates and a big stick are her weakness.”
Under the table, I squeezed Dustin’s thigh, sure to communicate my ire.
“He’s exaggerating,” I smiled. “I’ve never really been big into hockey. I just coincidentally ran into him in a bar after his game at Ann Arbor and we chatted. And we’ve stayed in touch since then.”
“Well, that’s a lot different from what I remember you saying last night.” Jackie pulled out her phone and clicked play on a certain video. It was as though she had it queued up. My stomach dropped as she clicked play, and I watched myself kiss Dustin in the back of the limo on the ride back from Freddie’s. Had our story changed? Was the jig up already?
“Say it, baby. Say it,” came Dustin’s voice. He was the one video-ing.
“I love being your puck bunny,” I said, and I even had bunny ears on, which I didn’t remember wearing.
How drunk was I on the ride home? And why did Freddie’s have bunny ear props?
“The funny thing about how we met in college,” I said, desperate to change the focus of the conversation, “Was the pickup line he used.”
Jackie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, pray tell.”
I smiled, took a deep breath, and put my hand on top of Dustin’s. “You remember, honey, don’t you?” I said.
“Like it was yesterday,” he nodded.
“Why don’t you tell the people, then?” I said, realizing that my arsenal of cheesy pickup lines was very doctor heavy.
“But Kit Cat, it’s so much better the way you tell the story.”
“Kit Cat. Oh, that’s adorable,” Jackie added.
“Tell us the story,” Mr. Bells said. “Now I’m curious to know more.”
I cleared my throat, and my mind went totally blank, but I kept talking.
“Well, there was this Beatles song playing at the bar, and he walked up to me and he said, ‘Are you a fan of Norwegian Wood?’ And I looked at him and I thought, ‘this guy is Norwegian and is he just propositioning me like that?’”
“I mean he’s tall, fair, and handsome,” Jackie inserted. “I’d love a proposition like that.”
She flashed Dustin a look that was much too provocative for the dinner table, but somehow it went unnoticed by everyone but me.
“So she gets this angry face,” Dustin chimes in, seeing that I’m ruffled, “And I add, ‘the song. You know, the song that’s playing right now?’ I swear, I thought she was about to slap me! Turns out, she’s a huge Beatles fan. It’s her favorite band of all time.”
I felt my insides coil. Then my worst nightmare came true.
“You don’t say!” Mr. Bells’s face lit up, which surprised me. “That really brings me back. The sixties had so much great music. Tell me, Cat, which album is your favorite?”
Dustin smiled. “Yeah, Cat, which one is your favorite? I’m really curious too.”
I dug my nails into his leg under the table.
“Oh man, that’s a tough one.” I cleared my throat.
Noticing my anxiousness, Dustin tried to help. “I think you mentioned the White Album?”
“That’s a good album, but you know, I honestly couldn’t choose one. It’s too hard. I just love them all so much.”
“That’s true! It’s tough to pick one,” Mr. Bells said. “The lyrics and the melodies are simple, yet brilliant. Bands today always try to do too much. It’s like they’re compensating for something.”
