I look down at it. “Art.”
“Yours?”
I shake my head, feeling my hands start to shake. “G’s.”
With one hand, he pushes the cans to the middle of the counter. “That’s better.”
I smile, looking at the line of cans. It’s quiet for a moment. I take in the sweats he’s in. The hat he’s wearing is the same one I borrowed on Halloween. He smells clean, and his face isn’t giving away a thing.
He turns around and leans against the counter. He listens to the guys in the other room for a moment, and then he looks at me. “Did you enjoy the game?”
I swallow, looking down at his hands holding onto the edge of the counter. “Yeah.”
He nods, and the voices from the living room fill the air.
Stanley shrieks, and Blue shakes his head.
The silence stretches.
I hold onto my can of Diet Coke like it’s going to save me from this tension. I keep looking down at the cans, but my eyes keep coming back up. He’s watching me. Then he clenches his jaw and looks at my bag around my arms. I realize I look ridiculous holding my purse in the house.
“I haven’t been to one of your games in a long time,” I say, desperate to fill the silence.
“Yeah,” he says, looking at the counter. “It’s been a minute.”
“It was fun,” I say playfully. I lift my can, and before I take a sip, I say, “You really like to throw the first punch.”
He watches the can tip against my mouth, and his grin slowly grows. “When I was in the box,” he says, crossing his arms. “I was thinking about what you said.”
I lower the can, heart fluttering, and ask, “What did I say?”
“On Halloween,” he says like it’s supposed to ring a bell.
I try to search my memory. But it’s blank. I only recall dancing and waking up in his bed.
“Mm,” I lick my lips and lower my hand down. I grip the can with both hands. “I don’t remember.”
His eyes flick to mine. “You don’t remember?”
I press my lips together and shake my head once.
His smile lights up his whole face. Jesus, my stomach squeezes when I look at his mouth.
“Oh my god, what did I say?” I ask, flushing. I’m looking at his smile and his eyes, his entire face, and my insides are firing. Now he’s searching my face. I hold my breath.
“You don’t remember any of it?” he asks, keeping his arms crossed.
“Blue,” I start to panic. “Did I make a fool of myself?”
He just looks at me, so I put the can down and cover my face with both hands.
“Did I?” I ask through my hands.
The next thing I know, I feel his hands on my wrists. He gently removes my hands from my face. He’s looking between both of my eyes, and I feel the current between us. It’s much stronger when I’m not drunk. I can’t even breathe with him this close.
“What did I say?” I whisper.
He searches my face, and his eyes on me are like the sun on a warm day. I just want to sit and lounge under his gaze.
