I couldn’t help but grin. “Now let’s find a seat so I can wreck this jerky.”
SALTY MEATS FIX EVERYTHING
Ronnie: Is your boyfriend coming camping?
Jeff: No kissing.
Matt: Can he throw an axe?
Charlie: No.
Matt: Fishing? Spear throwing?
Charlie: No and no.
Jeff: Sounds like Mr. Survival needs to teach his boyfriend a couple things.
Charlie: We’re using Jeff as bear bait.
Jeff: Hey!
I sent a GIF of a man being chased by a grizzly bear. If somebody had asked a week ago what made me chuckle, three boys texting me dumb GIFs about camping would have never made the list. They were pains in the butt, but at least they provided a bit of humor. Maybe they didn’t know my history with Firefly, which made them a safe space. It mostly came from their obsession with wanting to go into the wilderness like savages.
I continued down the street, keeping my hands in my pockets and head down. I picked up the pace, trying to make it to thestore before it closed. How an entire community shut down at five pm was beyond me. I kept my eyes to the ground as I passed folks, not wanting to prompt a discussion by making eye contact.
I glanced down at my texts.
Nick: Up for dinner tonight?
Charlie: Sure.
Nick: Meet you at Seamus’s house.
Charlie: What?
The only response was a photo of him grinning from ear to ear. I had stared at it long and hard, admiring the slight hint of teeth. When he smiled, he went from handsome to downright alluring. If he were some random text from a dating app, we’d have already fucked and made vague plans to repeat it. The thought of climbing on top of him got me plenty excited, but I was equally interested in the way he made me laugh. Of all the people here, he didn’t just evade my defenses; he stealthily sidestepped them without me knowing.
Charlie: Looking forward to it.
Nick: Good. Bring whisky.
I stood in front of Ivy & Cask, a store that didn’t exist the last time I visited. Checking the time on my phone, I breathed a sigh of relief. Seventeen minutes to spare. It’d be just enough time to head inside, grab a bottle, and be out. Even if the cashier wanted to talk, we had a time limit.
If I were lucky, I’d grab the only decent whisky on the shelf. Then I could go shower and make myself presentable for this… double date? It sounded like something the gremlins would say.Grown men having dinner didn’t constitute a date, even if two of them were a couple.
Right?
As soon as I pushed open the door, I discovered this wouldn’t be a quick process. Bottles filled every square inch of the walls. Above them hung labels. Tequila. Rum. Vodka. Gin. Finally, the whisky. Thirty… no… forty types. How did a town the size of Firefly give a place like this enough business? Was the entire town hoarding its booze for the apocalypse?
Toward the back of the shop, barrels were used as tables. Two gentlemen were talking as they worked their way through a flight. I had to admit that in a place with little to do, tastings were a pleasant alternative to sitting on the couch. Though, with the way the two men giggled, I suspected they’d be staggering home, and it wasn’t even five.
“Ignore them. They’re like that sober.”
A woman in a brown apron came out from behind the counter. I wonder if she intentionally picked bold browns to blend into the shelves and flooring. The more I looked around, the more I liked the industrial design. It’s not the type of look I’d expect in Firefly.
“I’m Julie.” She held out her hand. Her face scrunched up as she tried to figure out how I fit into Firefly. It was only a matter of time before the gossip traveled far enough that the look vanished. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”
“I’m Eleanor Sanford’s son.”
