“I’m no expert, but it looked like a raptor to me,” he offers, the picture of casual, but the oceans in his eyes lighten, and even though he doesn’t really know me, not yet anyway, he knows enough to know that’s going to make me happy.
It does.
My smile splits with my excited shriek, and my grip tightens on the paper. “We need to win. No other option.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says with another easy grin before he tips his chin towards the door. “Don’t want to lose out on a premium seat. Could be a good strategic advantage.”
“I’m not sure that’s how pub trivia works,” I tell him, but I follow and duck under his arm when he holds the door open for me.
Miller lifts his brows. “Nothing wrong with a little strategy.”
The bar’s more crowded than I’d have thought for themed trivia night. Teams are spread out at almost every table, and people are propped up on almost any available surface.
And they all seem happy to be here. Utterly at ease. Laughing in dinosaur T-shirts or hats or sweaters that don’t make them feel embarrassed.
It makes me feel stupid for letting Scott make me think it was stupid.
Miller reaches out a hand, angling his head towards the back of the bar where a singular high-top sits empty. I nod, but when I thread my fingers through his and let him weave through the crowd, I think some of those lingering feelings of stupidity get squashed under his hands.
I think people stop mid-conversation to stare when he walks too close to their tables. They hit their friends across the chest, right on the horns of triceratopses or the bony plates lining a stegosaurus’s back.
Someone shouts at him, turning their hat forward to point at the TMLB emblem embroidered in gold. “Great game last night, CB!”
Miller raises a hand in acknowledgement, mouth in a taut line until he stops us in front of the empty table. He lets go of my hand, knocking on the scratched wood. “This okay?”
“Sure.” I rub my thumb across my palm.
I haven’t held anyone’s hand in over four years, probably longer because Scott stopped with the displays of affection before that, and I thought I remembered what it felt like.
But I don’t think I did.
Not at all.
It certainly didn’t feel like that.
Warm. A calloused palm sliding against mine in this way that just spelled out a word I don’t recognize anymore, but it might have beensafe. The determined tug of large fingers that aren’tpulling you. They’re not leading you. They’re guiding, but they’d change direction at any moment if you asked.
Miller drags one of the chairs away from the table, throwing a pointed look between me and the seat. I give him a weak smile, hopping up and clutching the trivia sheet to my chest.
When he deems I’m perched well enough, his hands roll down on either side of the seat, brushing the edges of my thighs, and he shoves the chair back towards the table, asking, “What do you want to drink? I’ll grab it from the bar before everything starts.”
“Whatever you’re having.” I shrug, smoothing the paper down on the surface and grabbing two of the pencils sitting in the jar at the edge of the table where it meets the wall.
“Well, I want whatever you’re having.” He flashes me another tight smile. “So, you pick.”
“What?” I blink.
He takes a slow, measured exhale. “Your list, your night.”
When I don’t answer, he adds, “And I doubt you’ve made a habit of picking things you want for yourself, so, drinks are all yours.”
“Oh,” I answer, and for some reason, the corners of my eyes prickle. But I smile, saying softly, “Cider. I’d say champagne, but I think I’ve had my fair share of that this month.”
The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he taps a thumb against the table. “Cider. All yours. I’ll be right back.”
He moves back through the crowd, and I might be imagining it—but he does seem more comfortable than he did at the grocery store, and certainly more than when he was at the museum or the gala.
People stop him, some going as far as to clap him on the back, and it seems like it’s going well until one of the strangers leans forward, their mouths turned down in sympathy when they give a slow shake of their head.
