“He sounds like Mark. He’s a good friend, too.”
“Yeah, Diego’s a good guy. He’s annoyingly perceptive, but good.”
Now, I was smiling.Thiswas happening, whatever this was.
We were having an actual conversation about real things, and it wasn’t awkward—well, it was a little awkward, but the kind of awkward that came from two people who cared about making a good impression.
“So,” I said. “You’ve been thinking about me.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late. My head’s expanding. I’m insufferable now.”
“I can see that.”
“Mark’s going to be impossible when I tell him about this.”
“You’re going to tell Mark?”
“Like I could avoid it? You know he’s been watchingus since I walked over here, right? He’s probably already planning our wedding.” I glanced back at the bar. Mark was indeed watching us with the intensity of someone watching a particularly engaging reality show. “He’s subtle like that.”
Chase followed my gaze and waved.
Mark waved back like a four-year-old waving at his first elephant at the zoo.
“He seems nice,” Chase said diplomatically.
“He’s a holy terror, but yeah, he’s nice.” I looked back at Chase. “So, you’re a regular now. Only a couple of visits away from official status.”
“Guess I’ll have to come back.”
“Guess you will.”
“Finn!” Mark called from the bar. “Stop making googly eyes and get back to work! We’ve got closing duties.”
I felt my face heat up. “I should—”
“Yeah,” Chase said, but he didn’t look like he wanted me to leave. “You should.”
“Are you—” I hesitated. “Are you going to come back? For real?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah,” I said, maybe too quickly. “Yeah, I really do.”
Chase pulled out his phone. “Then maybe I should have your number so I know when you’reworking . . . and when there are games or special events—” He stopped. “Is this too forward? This feels too forward. We lawyers can be a pushy bunch.”
“It’s not too forward.” I pulled out my own phone, my hands shaking slightly. “Here, I’ll text you so you have mine, too.”
We exchanged numbers. Like adults. Good God, I wasadulting.
Me: This is Finn. The bartender with the mediocre beer selection.
Chase’s phone buzzed. He looked at it and smiled.
Chase: Got it. I’ll try to make it to five visits so you can officially declare me a regular. You’re too hard on yourself. The service sucks, but the beer’s not that bad.
I snort-laughed when I read his text. He beamed.
