“There are absolutely vibes. Ask anyone.”
“Ask anyone what?” Finn emerged from the back office, clipboard in hand, looking like a man who had spreadsheets to review and no patience fornonsense.
“Jacks has a date tomorrow,” Benji announced.
“It’s not a date.”
“With a certain hunky hockey player,” Benji continued, ignoring me. “Tacos in Seminole Heights. Sounds intimate.”
Finn’s expression shifted into something I couldn’t quite read. He set down his clipboard and leaned against the bar, arms crossed.
“Skyler Shaw asked you to lunch?”
“As friends. We’re friends now. Friends have lunch.”
“Friends do have lunch,” Finn agreed. “But this particular friend is also a closeted NHL captain who seems to be going through some kind of crisis, which makes the situation a bit more complicated.”
“He’s not closeted. He’s straight.”
“Is he?” Finn asked.
“Yes. He dates women. He just told me about the woman who broke up with him.”
“The woman he feltnothingfor, if memory serves.” Finn’s Irish accent made the words sound particularly pointed. “The woman who said he wasn’t present with her.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s gay. It means he hasn’t found the right person yet.”
“And you think that person is going to be anotherwoman?” Benji asked, serious for a change.
I didn’t have an answer for that.
The question hung in the air, uncomfortable and unanswerable.
Mark appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He must have caught the tail end of the conversation because his expression was already set to concerned—and on a burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard, that was more than a little frightening.
“What’s going on? Why does everyone look so serious?”
“Jacks has a date with Skyler Shaw,” Benji supplied.
“It’s not a—you know what, never mind. Yes. Fine. I have a date. Afrienddate. A platonic lunch between two adult men who enjoy tacos and conversation. Is that a crime?”
“Nobody said it was a crime,” Finn said. “We’re . . . concerned.”
“About what?”
The three of them exchanged looks, the kind of looks that suggested they’d already discussed this without me, which was both touching and annoying.
Finn spoke first. “You like him.”
“He’s likeable. That’s not exactly a revelation.”
“You like him more than you’re admitting. To us or to yourself.” Finn’s voice was gentle but firm. “I’ve known you for over a year, Jacks. I’ve seen you flirt with customers, take guys home, do the whole casual thing. This isn’t that. This is different.”
“Different how?” I crossed my arms.
“Different in the way you light up when he walks through the door. Different in the way you check your phone every five minutes hoping for a text. Different in the way you talked to him last night like the rest of the bar didn’t exist.”
I wanted to argue.
