“So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room? Initials J and T?” Casey wanted to know.
“Him?” Britt snorted. “I don’t care abouthim.”
“Of course you don’t,” Casey soothed.
“He can do anyone or anything he wants. We were just having a little fun. S’over now.”
“Of course you were! Of course it is!”
“He can, in fact, fuck himself.” Wow, two sips in and her psyche was liberated.
“He probably can!” Casey encouraged. “Speaking of which, I’m just going to come right out and ask it,” Casey said finally. “You don’t have to answer... you can tell me to mind my own beeswax and I swear on everything I hold dear that I won’t tell a soul... but was hegood? Be honest.”
Britt took another hearty gulp. She wanted to bemean, not honest.
“Okay. Think of the best thing you ever saw... ever tasted... ever did...”
“Yeah?” Casey encouraged breathlessly.
“...ever felt... ever smelled...”
“Yeah?”
“And multiply it by a million.”
They let that assertion ring alone for a moment.
“Daaaaamn,” Casey whispered.
Alas, apparently alcohol ultimately was truth serum.
“But I don’t care about him atall!” Britt added hurriedly.
“Of course you don’t,” Casey soothed. “And can I tell you something, Britt? He kind of scares me.”
Britt gave a short laugh. “Gosh, I didn’t think anything scared you, Casey. You know, he’s actually a lovely person. Who has a great laugh and wears reading glasses and looks like a fallen angel when he sleeps.”
Britt blinked. That was some florid blather. That margarita was a fast worker.
Casey was apparently arrested by the tipsy poetry of this, because her eyes went dreamy.
She took another sip. She was beginning to think Casey was right about getting drunk. Feelings were for the birds! She would feel her feelings later!
“I have to confess, I like my guys big and dumb and sweet. And hot. Not look-into-the-sun hot, though. I’m more comfortable when I can manage them. Which is why Truck was my type.”
“Was... or is?” Britt teased slyly.
Casey actually slowly blushed. And looked faintly distressed.
So Britt didn’t bug her about that anymore.
She took another sip. They were quiet a moment. The big yellow dog panted companionably under the table. And licked Britt’s ankle, and she giggled.
“Is it hard to talk about J. T.?” Casey sounded tentative. “Sorry if it is. It just seems like you need to.”
“Honestly, I don’t even know how to talk about how I feel right now. You saw those photos. And you saw what happened at the Misty Cat when Rebecca Corday walked in the first time. Half the town did.”
“It was like the only giraffe at the zoo finally got a mate.”
