“Hey.” Irina stepped forward toward Tanner. Then made a time-out T with her palms. “You should probably know that there’s a whole machine here in motion for you and Sam. You pretty much only have to show up.”
“Turn it off,” Tanner said, meaning the words. He didn’t need a whole machine to meet someone. To make her like him.
Wait. Did he?
No, he didn’t. This would make Sam want to run. They clearly didn’t see that.
“You don’t like her?” Linx asked, popping another fry in his gullet.
“She doesn’t want a machine, dude,” Tanner said. “Look, I could like her. A lot. But she won’t appreciate this whole pre-planned set-up.” Given her opinions about the puppet show, this was a pretty safe guess. “I’ve gotta do this on my own.”
“That’s the worst idea to come out of tonight,” Knox said, pulling his mouth into a line. “Rethink that one.”
“We’ve been worried you might have a hard time talking to her,” Becca said in that sincere therapist-y tone of hers. The one that made her so successful as a counselor because when she pulled it out, a person would tell her anything. “How did that part go?”
This was a fair question, given his success rate until that afternoon.
“We talked,” he said.
“Get out,” Linx said, a half-grin plastered on his face. “The puppet show worked?”
“We talked before that,” Tanner said, not loving the direction of this conversation. What he’d wanted? Some solid advice.
What was he getting? Not solid advice.
“You talked to a girl?” Bax said, a slow grin spreading. He pounded a fist against his heart. “So proud.”
Tanner grabbed a plate to load it up since this seemed like they moved through the food quicker than usual. “Yeah, man. I did.”
“How?” Bax asked, a disbelieving edge to his tone.
You know, Tanner should tell them now, since eventually he’d tell them. That’s how the band stuff worked. Everyone overshared on the regular.
“I pretended to be Linx,” Tanner admitted. Then he stuffed the guilt pocket that tried to sneak back up his throat right back to where it belonged—safely in his stomach.
“Shut up,” Linx said, the grin on his face epic now. “That shit worked?”
“Yeah.” Tanner nodded. Maybe there was a little pride with his guilt.
Linx suddenly became very invested in this conversation. “What did I say?”
Tanner thought back. “You apologized for being awkward. And then—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” Linx held up a hand. “I’d never start with an apology.”
“Linx.” Becca shook her head. “That’s not helpful.”
“It’s true, though,” Bax chimed in. “Linx doesn’t believe in starting with sorry.”
“What do you mean you wouldn’t start with the apology?” Tanner asked, now questioning his ability to authentically channel Linx. “Then you mentioned coffee and dinner and asked if she liked them.”
“I don’t know who you were being, but it wasn’t me,” Linx said with an authority that made Tanner believe him.
“Well, who the hell was I being then?” Tanner asked.
“No idea.” Linx popped another fry in his face.
“Tanner, if you like her, then you have to beyouwhen you’re around her,” Becca said.
