17
To Fishbowls!
“Here we are, ladies,” Sandy—our server at Brass Tapps—says, placing Kami’s and my burger platters in front of us. “Need anything else right now?”
“No, thanks. We’re all set,” Kami smiles.
With the end of summer vacation lurking around the corner, Kami and I are making the most of the last bit of freedom we have left. Or at least I am, because once classes are back in session, I go back to being a homebody on school nights—except for trivia night—in spite of Kami’s best efforts to try to make me be social.
I smile, taking a whiff of the cheese-and-bacon-covered goodness before me.
“I’m starving. A few more minutes and you would’ve had to deal with my hangry issues,” I laugh, popping a piece of broken fry into my mouth.
“Thank God. Quickly! Stuff yourself, so there’s no chance I’ll have to suffer,” Kam jokes. I respond by sticking my tongue out at her. “Always so mature and rational,” she admonishes, and I laugh again while reaching for the ketchup bottle.
“Have you met my family?” I defend, twisting off the cap and pouring a large pool on my plate. “It’s true, though. It’s in the genes. We’ve seen the things my mother does, and I did share all of my Grandma Mildred stories with you.”
“Speaking of your family…what time did Keaton say he’d get here?” she asks, looking at her phone. He had a late appointment tonight so he hadn’t been able to join us for dinner before trivia like he usually does.
“Smooth transition, Kam. Kudos,” I grin.
“Ugh, you have to stop reading Keaton and Kami into everything.”
“It has a nice ring to it, though, eh? Keaton and Kami…” I roll it around, testing it a few times to push my bestie.
“You’re such a shit. Sure, all right. I like him, fine, but it’s hard and confusing and you don’t help. But you’ve said it yourself, East. He’s a player, so stop being a brat about it,” she says, a warm blush to her cheeks.
“Ha! It’s about damn time, Kam. I knew it.”
“Know what would be really awesome?” she asks, ignoring me as best she can.
“What?” I ask excitedly, thinking she’s going back to the Kami and Keaton talk.
“Wouldn’t it be great if he brought Coy along to play with us tonight?” she says around a bite of burger. With it being summer, it gets hard to keep a full team each week between vacations, kids, and sports and other social events, so we each try to invite new people who might want to join in the fun when we can.
“And I’m the shit? Low blow, Kam, low blow,” I tsk, shaking my head and wiping my mouth with my napkin before shoving my empty plate away. “I’m so full. I think I ate too fast.”
“You think? And I’m the one who avoids? Please, you can’t tell me you didn’t just get a little wave of excitement thinking about McCoy showing up here,” Kami says, pushing me right back, as I had her.
“I’ll nnnever telll,” I say, my voice low.
“You said yourself, the few times you’ve seen Coy so far over the summer it’s been goo—”
“No,” I correct, cutting her off. “I said, it’s been okay.”
“Seriously? It’s the same thing, East.”
“No, ‘good’ implies all is well in my world where the man is concerned. ‘Okay’ implies that it went better than expected, but was still awkward. Plus, I’m struggling with trying to get over him.”
“Huh. Is it bad that actually makes sense to me?”
“See? Best friends,” I gesture, my hand waving between us, and she laughs.
“Tell me truthfully, then. Have you devised a plan on how to handle seeing Coy every day as our sexy new boss in the fall?”
Butterflies swarm in my stomach at the thought of getting to see him everyday…in a suit, my brain adds, like the hussy that man makes her be.
“Yes and no,” I admit. “As I said, the times I’ve seen him so far have gone fine. We’ve more or less managed to play nice, and I enjoyed it. Seeing him those few times has helped put me at ease with the idea of him being home and knowing there’s a good chance I’ll have to see him every day come September. I guess I’ll be able to deal with him as long as things stay easy and I don’t let myself feel anything for him other than friendship.” I shrug. “But this one-sided attraction isn’t healthy anymore. It’s been years of me pining and hoping he might feel something more, but it’s been more than clear he doesn’t. I can’t keep holding out. You know?”
“I sure do.” She gives me an innocent smile, and I can infer that she does know exactly how I feel, but I don’t dare bring it up again. “Know what I think?” she asks, having finished the last sip of her beer.
“What do you think?” I ask, placing my now-empty glass beside hers.
“I still think you should let me hook you up!” She gives me a self-satisfied smirk.
“You’re a pain in my ass. And no. That’s still—and will always remain—a big fat negative,” I counter, reaching for the drinks menu.
“Well, if you change your mind…” she trails off, and I laugh.
“I won’t.”
“Jeez, no trust.”
“Got that right. Two words to remind you, Kam: Dutch Oven.” I try not to laugh, but it’s still so crazy, I can’t not.
“Anyway,” Kami says, moving the conversation along, and I’m thankful, “I hope Keaton found at least one more player for tonight. Lord knows, if it’s just the three of us, we’ll get crushed.” She looks around as most of the teams begin to arrive.
“He didn’t say. I’m hoping he brings Tristan. That guy is a trivia ringer,” I joke, remembering the last time he joined our team and we came in first place.
“I tried Marcy, but she has the kids this week,” Kami says.
“I tried Bev, too, but she had plans.”
“Well, as long as it’s not only the three of us,” she says, and we both laugh, knowing that just the three of us on a team only ever leads to a whole bunch of blank stares and heated discussions. We need a mediator to monitor our trivia behaviour.
“I can’t believe we’ve got school next week,” Kami says, deflated. “The summer went by way too quick.”
“Agreed,” I say. Then, as I make it to the last page of the cocktail menu, I get the best idea. “Know what I think we should do tonight?” I say, glancing up and giving her a sly grin.
“Besides trivia?” she says, looking around like she’s missed something. I give her my best Cheshire grin. “Uh-oh, I’m not sure I want to know,” she says, immediately hesitant.
“Look at these,” I say, lifting the menu towards her and pointing to the colourful page and the bold print.
“‘Fishbowls’?”
“Yep. And if memory serves me correctly, you cannot say ‘no’, because you owe me big time.”
“‘Moscato, vodka, blue curaçao, pineapple juice, Sprite, with fruit and Swedish fish as garnish’,” she reads, then gives me a thumbs up and an exuberant, “Oh, yes, please!”
I clap and look around for Sandy, spying her two tables over.
“That’s my girl,” I say.
“Here’s to Ubering tonight,” Kami says, closing her menu after we order our drinks.
“Or I can Uber and you can ask Keaton to drive you,” I suggest as Sandy exits with our plates, adding a mischievous look. “You are on his way, after all. Right?”
“Shut up. I’m sure he won’t appreciate you volunteering him.”
“Please. I’m sure he’ll appreciate getting some alone time with you. And you look extra hot tonight, by the way. That maroon tank is doing wonders showing off your tan and other assets.”
“Jesus, for an admitted cockblocker, you’re working overtime on this fantasy of Keaton and me that you’ve got going on,” she laughs. “Honestly, though, let’s not go back to this topic. I gave enough away for one night. Plus, he’ll be here soon, and the last thing I need is to look like a lovesick puppy because we’ve spent all night talking about the possibility of him and I. Okay?”
“All right, you win,” I groan. “Let me just say, before moving on, that I’m glad you finally admitted you have feelings for him. I mean, I always knew, but good to see you’re catching up.” I smile, and reach over the table to pat her hand.
“You know it’s going to work out, right?” I ask as Sandy places first one, then another, murky-blue fishbowl, complete with bobbing Swedish Fish, in front of us.
“A toast: to moving the conversation along!” Kami says, raising her fishbowl with both hands and ignoring my last statement.
“Okay, okay.” I raise my bowl to meet hers. “To fishbowls!”