I try to maintain my smile, but my face has a mind of its own as confusion spreads through me. “People like me?”
“Charming and fun. It makes us feel young again.”
Oh, okay… I guess? And if they think I’m charming and fun, I’ve managed to fool them. Aran always complains about what a brat and a headache am I. I’m convinced he also secretly loves me though, so that could be just his frustration that we aren’t together yet speaking.
It’s a little funny now that I think about it, when the only reason we haven’t tied the knot yet is his weird stubbornness. But I’m a patient man, so I’ll give him one more week. If he doesn’t get his shit together by then, it’s time to execute Plan X that my friends Leo and Matt helped me come up with.
“I’ve always wanted an iguana,” I say, keeping the conversation going. “Before my dad died, he took me to this herpetarium. The snakes and the lizards’ sections were my favorite, and the staff even let me touch them.”
Judging by the slight frown on Mrs. Lynx’s safe, I’d say she doesn’t share my love for reptilians. Not many people do, I think. But I fell in love the moment I saw them. Lizards are like modern-day mini dinosaurs and snakes have been around forever. Plus, their skin is really nice to touch. It’s smooth and cool and so different from the way we humans feel.
“The only way I’m getting anywhere near one of those is by buying my wife a new bag,” Mr. Lynx says with a slightly disgusted expression.
Both of them laugh, but I can’t bring myself to join in. The best I can manage is a smile that feels awkward on my face, but in my defense, I never liked clothes or accessories made from animal skins.
“Reptiles are not for everyone,” I agree, reaching for another cake bite.
I don’t think Aran particularly likes snakes or lizards, but he’s come with me to various zoos and reptile houses. He also knows a lot about them, though I am yet to figure out why when he doesn’t exactly share my interest in them. But I’m not complaining—it’s always fun talking to him about these misunderstood animals.
The waiter comes to our table and clears away the empty plates. It’s not Not Aran, which is a little disappointing, but makes sense since Not Aran seemed to be on bar duty. I should’ve probably asked for his name, but it kind of slipped my mind. I’ll be seeing him soon anyway, so it’s not a big deal.
By the time Mrs. Lynx finishes her wine, guests are no longer occupying most of the tables. A few linger around like us, smoking cigars and talking in hushed voices. When we pass by one group on our way to the elevator, I try to catch their conversation, but all I manage to hear are bits of random words. The Lynxes are partially at fault, since for the last five minutes they haven’t stopped talking about their yacht. I asked because the vibes got weird and I wanted to move on from the reptiles topic, that’s true, but half of the stuff Mr. Lynx keeps droning on about just goes over my head.
“…and the LOA is a little bigger than our previous yacht,” he finishes on as his counterpart scans her bracelet and gets the gilded double doors to the entertainment deck open.
I spot Aran immediately. Excitement sparks in me, kick-starting my bored heart. He’s pulled a chair from the nearby coral reef themed café and has placed it on the edge of the venue’s premises. Instead of enjoying a drink like the rest of the guests are, he’s reading the book I lent him. But that’s not what catches my eye—it’s the relaxed state he’s in, the slight slouch of his shoulders as his eyes move down the pages.
I could watch him forever.
Unfortunately, the moment only lasts a few heartbeats as he lifts his head and locks eyes with me. It’s like he can tell where I am, like he knows I’ve come back even if the music and chatter on this deck should’ve made it impossible for him to hear the doors open.
Marking his page with the bookmark I gifted him, he closes the book and approaches us.
“Ah. Your friend is still here. He really waited for you,” Mrs. Lynx points out, letting out a soft snort.
My heart skips a beat and my stomach twists like it’s fighting a butterfly invasion. “Hi.” I smile at Aran, oblivious to whatever the woman says when she leans in and whispers in my ear.
Aran’s frown deepens, and the next thing I know, he’s pulled me to his side and has his arm draped over my shoulders. “I hope he didn’t cause any trouble,” he says in that leveled and fake-friendly tone he uses with people he doesn’t like.
“Hex was a real charmer.” Mrs. Lynx waves him off, adjusting her mask so it’s not tilting to the right so much. They must’ve put them on in the elevator, but I was too overwhelmed with the yacht talk to pay attention. “Say, dear. Perhaps we could steal you for a few hours again tomorrow? It’s game night and I am sure you will enjoy it.”
Tomorrow? That coincides with Not Aran’s day off, so if everything goes according to plan, we can score one bird with two stones.
“Really? I can join you for that?” I say before Aran can turn them down, channeling the biggest smile I can. He goes tense next to me, but fortunately keeps his mouth shut.
“Ah, you are such a cutie. Of course you can, or I wouldn’t be inviting you. We can meet again here, same time as today.”
“I can’t wait!”
“Neither can we, dear.” She strokes my arm. “Now, I wish you both good night. My Mr. and I had a lovely time.”
I lean my shoulder into Aran and watch the two Lynxes as they get lost in the meandering crowd. “So, I didn’t exactly solve the big mystery of what’s going on yet, but I met this guy…”
Aran’s fingers hook under my chin and tip it up, so we are looking at each other. “What guy?”
A thrill of anticipation shoots through me, almost making me gasp. If only he’d lean down and kiss me, tonight would be perfect.
But, of course, he doesn’t do that. His glare just grows more concerned the longer I say nothing, so eventually I decide to take pity on him.
