“Are you kidding? I wanted to be a cryptozoologist as a kid. I used to think it would be fun to road trip around the Pacific Northwest and visit the alleged Bigfoot haunts. There’s a North American Bigfoot Center in a town called Boring, Oregon. Peak road trip stop.” Though dull adulting things now consumed most of the brain space I used to dedicate to whimsical stuff like mystical and mysterious creatures roaming Earth.
Bob’s eyes lit up. “Seriously? A museum and a town called Boring? That sounds amazing. I’m a definite believer too. Why not? It’s fun to think—” He paused, tilted his head, and stared in the distance. “What’s the plural of Bigfoot?”
“Bigfeet? Huh. I don’t know.” Why was nerding out on cryptids working on me better than the slickest pickup lines?
He nodded once as though it were decided. “It’s fun to think that we exist in a world with creatures like Bigfeet and even ourlocal cryptid Mabel out lurking in among the trees around here. Much more fun than being a nonbeliever.”
“Those should be shunned.” I elongated the last word out of habit after watching theCharlie the Unicornvideos a ridiculous number of times back in high school.
Bob’s rich laughter sent flutters through my belly. “God, I loved those videos. I did a research project on the Liopleurodon in high school because of those.”
That tickled a memory in my brain, but I couldn’t place it.
The person on the stool on Bob’s other side vacated it, so he slid onto it and turned toward me, pressing his knee against mine.
“Are you waiting for someone? I can hold the seat until they get here.”
I couldn’t help my flirty smile. “My sibling is supposed to join me, but they’re running late. I’m glad for the company.”
“Please tell me they’re dressing as Wayne.”
“Of course. Are you meeting anyone dressed as a canvas on an easel?”
Bob tsked. “Dang. That would be a great couple’s costume, but alas, no. Met some friends, but they’re all playing darts with their partners. I volunteered to get the beer.”
I couldn’t shake the familiar feeling about Bob, but he was probably just a local who’d been a few years ahead of or behind me in school, whom I had a vague memory of. If it weren’t so crowded, I’d be able to see his friends, which might give me a clue. Or maybe he’d moved to town after I left Maplewood and the familiarity was simply my attraction to him.
I lifted my eyebrows and pointedly glanced at the empty bar in front of him.
He smiled wryly. “They can wait.”
It boosted my ego that he seemed to be enjoying our conversation as much as I was.
Normally, by this point in flirting with a guy, I would’ve asked for his name, but I was enjoying the Garth and Bob thing we had going. I never thought I could be anonymous in Maplewood, where it seemed like everyone recognized me because of my family’s diner. This felt like being back at a random bar in Boston. Since Bob wasn’t asking for my name either, I figured the anonymity worked for him too.
The band began a killer rendition of “Let’s Dance” by David Bowie. It drew my attention, making me think of my childhood best friend, Bowie, named after the singer. I hadn’t reached out to him yet, but I wanted to get some quality time with him while I was in town. I’d been here for a couple of weeks and my reaching out was overdue. Typically I was only in town for a couple of days for holidays and didn’t make time to meet up with old friends. Given how busy I heard he was with his city government job, I needed to be the one to reach out.
“The live music is always great here,” Bob said while glancing toward the band, but it was impossible to see them through the crowd.
“It’s a regular thing? That’s cool. It’s my first time here.” Under the new ownership, at least.
Bob’s eyebrows rose. “First time? Do you usually spend your time at The Forbidden Maple?”
“I’m just visiting town.” It wasn’ttechnicallya lie, but borderline enough that I felt a bit guilty.
“Where from?” Bob rested his elbow on the counter and gave me his full attention.
“Boston.”
“Yeah? That’s cool. I’ve always wanted to visit there.”
We chatted for a few minutes about Boston, then moved on to other places we wanted to visit. There was a lot of overlap in our wish lists. New Orleans, Vietnam, Scotland, New Zealand.
The conversation had gone on long enough that I couldn’t ignore my bladder any longer, but I didn’t want to kill the conversation by making a restroom run. I hadn’t clicked with someone so quickly in a seriously long time. I’d always had an easy time chatting with people and sleuthing out topics for successful small talk—a side effect of being an extrovert to my core—but genuine connections were rare.
“Want another?” Bob gestured to my empty glass.
“Sure, thanks, but I really need to take a leak first. Back in a few.” I sent a flirty smile. “Protect my stool with your paintbrushes as weapons if you must.”
