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Luke looks much more at home. His terrible slacks and collared shirt blend in to the point that I somehow almostmiss the big guy sitting at the bar. I slide onto the stool next him, and he startles when he realizes I’m here.
“Oh, you made it,” Luke says.
“No need to sound so excited. It’s not like I dressed up for you or anything.”
I mean, I didn’t, no more than usual, but my “not dressed up” is still way better than anything the patrons of this bar have to offer. I tied my long hair up high on my head. My button up is mostly not buttoned at all, leaving most of my chest exposed. I even threw in a subtle necklace, and it’s doing its job of drawing Luke’s eyes downward. If he manages to drag his gaze back upward, he’ll find I accented my dark eyes with matching eyeliner.
See? Not dressed up at all.
“What do you drink?” Luke says.
If he’s impressed by my ensemble, his voice doesn’t give him away. It makes for a confusing experience. I saw that flicker of his gaze. I saw his attention wander downward. There’s no way I imagined that. But his voice and his closed off body posture tell the exact opposite story. He’s hunched at the bar instead of facing me, and I’m starting to suspect that was part of his plan from the start. If we were at a table or booth, he might have had to look me in the eye, but this way, he can stare up at a screen and ignore me.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say this guy is scared of me. Scared of or attracted to. It’s hard to believe he’s either ofthose things, yet they’re the only conclusions that explain his attitude toward me tonight.
“Whatever’s your favorite,” I finally say in response to his question.
“You sure about that?”
I nearly roll my eyes. Straight dudes always think a single beer is going to be the shock of a lifetime for me.
“Yes, I’m sure. Just order.”
He flags down the bartender and gets two bottles of something that sounds heterosexual, but when it arrives it’s cold and refreshing and not half as bad as I expected. After a couple swigs, I catch Luke watching me drink with something that might just be respect.
“What?” I tease. “I’ve had a beer, you know.”
“You just seem…”
“Too gay for beer? We drink beer. There’s no rule against it.”
“Right. Yeah. Sorry.”
He seems genuinely apologetic, and I simply can’t contain it anymore. The laughter bursts out, and I slap his arm.
“Relax, oh my God,” I say. “I’m messing with you. How do you teach teenagers if you’re this easy to tease?”
“With difficulty,” he says dryly, and I only laugh harder, but this time he joins me with a sliver of a smile.
“For the record, I think it’s really admirable what you do,” I say. “I’ve done some teaching myself. It’s not easy.”
“You?”
Luke looks at me for the first time this whole night, really looks at me. His eyes stay on my face, yet his interest is even sharper than when his gaze flickered downward before.
I thrill from capturing his attention. “It’s a volunteer thing, but I do it every year. I don’t only work at the cat café. I’m actually a part-timer, but the rest of the time I’m a dancer. I perform in some clubs and stuff downtown. And when I have time for it, I volunteer to teach as well.”
“That’s a lot.”
“It is, but I love it,” I say. “My volunteer class meets at this time of year, so you’re lucky I had time to get this drink with you. Normally I’d be running around between Tripp Lake, Everett and Seattle. It’s crazy, but I love it. And the kids are so good.”
“What ages are they?”
“Little guys. Younger than yours, I think. They’re eight to twelve, so they’re just starting to understand their bodies. Teaching them how to move, how to appreciate movement and what their bodies can do — I don’t know. It gives me this sense of joy like nothing else.”
A smiles softens Luke’s face, and I realize he’s still looking at me. He’s still engaged.
“I understand,” he says. “I teach math, and it’s rarely any teenager’s favorite subject, but sometimes you get to see them justgetit and … there’s nothing like it.”
