I nodded. “I was pretty young, but I remember enough.”
“You like it better now or then?”
I laughed under my breath. “I had less paperwork back then, so probably then.”
“Fair.”
“Where are you from?”
“Maine.”
“Oh, wow. That’s hella far.”
“Hella?” He chuckled.
I grinned. “Spent most of my childhood growing up in California.”
He took another drink. “So you’ve never heard of The Click. Do you date?”
“Too busy.”
He snorted. “You’re too busy to get laid?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Something like that.”
“Okay, so let’s say you did create a profile, would we match?”
I chuckled. “That line work often?”
“Sometimes.” He held my gaze. “So?”
“We might.” I downed the rest of my beer.
Having a guy flirt with me wasn’t new. Men had been interested before. Opportunity had never been the problem. Taking it any further was. Because every time I had the chance, something in me shut down before it could progress.
A few moments later, Bradford stood up. “You want another?”
“Sure.” I handed him the empty bottle.
I watched him weave through the crowd toward the bar, calm as hell, like he hadn’t just asked if we’d match on some app and gotten me to admit I was into men. He was hot, funny, easy to talk to, and exactly the kind of guy I should’ve been able to want without overthinking it.
But I wasn’t.
He came back with two fresh beers and a basket of fries, while the rest of the group had moved on to the pool tables.
I looked down at them, then back up. “You trying to impress me?”
“I’m trying to make sure you don’t drink on an empty stomach.”
I snorted and took a fry.
He asked me more about California, and I gave him enough but avoided getting into anything I didn’t want to discuss. I asked about his family, and he told me about his brothers, his parents, and the dog they had growing up that hated every man in the neighborhood except his dad.
I laughed more than I expected to.
Bradford noticed. “You should do that more.”
“What?”
