“Is that him?” Caleb asks as he sets my water down in front of me.
I click my screen off and smile up at him. “Yep. He told me I was boring.”
“Wow. Sounds like a keeper.”
“Did you say that in sarcasm font?”
“Oh hell yes.” He takes a swig of his beer. “What kind of dude tells a chick she’s boring? How will that help him score any points?”
“One, he’s not trying to jump into my pants, so there’s no need to score points. Two, it was a compliment. YouknowI don’t like this scene, and I also think you know I’m boring. It was one of the things that drove us apart. I like staying at home cuddled up on the couch surrounded by junk food. I knit, for crying out loud! I’m not wild. I’m not reserved, but I’m not outrageous. I like boring. It’s…comforting.”
“I always did like how comfortable in your own skin you are. You never try to come up with something clever when people ask about your hobbies. You just tell them you knit and that’s that.”
“I knitted penis potholders,” I say proudly.
Caleb breaks out in laughter. “Only you, D. Only you.”
“D! Do a shot with me!” Zoe stumbles her way over to our table, the barely-eighteen-year-old in tow. “Shots!” She glances over at Caleb. “Well, hell, lookie who we have here—Caleb fuckin’ Mills. How ya doing, hot stuff? How’s that broken heart of yours mending?”
“Hey, gorgeous,” he greets, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and unwinding her arm from around his teammate’s neck. “I’ll take her from here, Skeet.”
The kid seems relieved and mumbles a quick thanks before scurrying off.
“Caleb, be a dear and grab us shots.”
“I’m not doing any shots, Zoe. I kind of want to scram.”
“Dude, no. Wenevergo out. This was supposed to be your night out to forget this loser”—she points toward Caleb—“who dumped your ass.”
“It was mutual,” Caleb butts in.
“Whatever,” Zoe says, waving her hand and almost smacking an unsuspecting guy who appears way too young to be in the bar. “Now, let’s have some fun. Let’s do shots and dance and move on.”
“What about Mr.—”
“Shots it is!” I interrupt, not wanting Caleb to spill the beans about Mr. Wrong Number.
His eyes widen as understanding dawns on him. “Right, yeah. Shots for the ladies. Be right back.”
As Caleb heads toward the bar and Zoe eyes up her next target, I unlock my phone and shoot off a text.
Me: Pray for me. Zoe wants to do shots.
Zach: Shots are never a smart idea. I’ve fallen victim to many a shot and have puked in numerous bushes.
Me: Like bushes bushes or BUSHES? *waggles brows*
Zach: That shit right there is why I keep you around.
Me: Stop. You’re making me blush.
Zach: Liar.
Zach: Be careful, okay? And maybe let me know when you get home?
Me: Will do.
“Zoe, we need to go home.” I pull the beer glass from her lips.
