Page 81 of Here We Go Again

“I would not have given you my number,” I say to Andy.

The bartender’s face falls, though he’s clearly hamming it up for dramatic effect. “You wound me,” he says. “Why not?”

I tilt my head toward Theo. “Because I’m here with him.”

It’s not technically a lie. I am here with Theo. There’s no harm in letting Andy think there’s more to it than that.

Andy looks over at Theo, and his eyes widen. “Dude. Is that one of the Williamson twins?”

Theo slides onto the barstool next to me before I can answer. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. I don’t mind the gesture, but it does feel a tiny bit random, and I wonder if Theo would have done it were I not sitting here talking to another guy.

“Hey,” he says, his voice warm and friendly. “Did you get everything ordered?”

“I did. I was just sitting here talking to Andy, who I think is a hockey fan?”

Andy clears his throat. “The Tornadoes are my team, but yeah. Big fan. Mad respect for you and your brother,” he says to Theo.

“I appreciate it,” Theo says. “The Tornadoes are a great team.”

“We’ve had a rough couple of years,” Andy says. “But I think things are finally looking up. The draft was good to us.”

Theo nods. “I hope they have a great season. Hey, listen, man, it was great to meet you,” he says. He reaches for our drinks, then looks over at me. “Ready to go?”

I pick up our table number. “Yep. After you.” I wave to Andy, and he salutes before turning to another customer at the bar.

“So what did you and Andy talk about?” Theo asks. His tone is teasing, but there’s a current of something just under the surface that gives me pause.

“Oh my gosh,” I say, looking over at him.

“What?” he says.

I stop walking, and he turns to face me.

I smile as I look up at him. “You’re jealous.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not jealous.”

“You are. You saw me talking to a cute and flirty bartender, and you got jealous.”

His jaw twitches. “You think he’s cute?”

“Adorable,” I say, pausing for a long moment before adding, “but he’s not really my type.”

Theo smirks. “No? Well, what is your type?”

I narrow my gaze like I’m really considering. “I think I’d like a really small guy,” I deadpan. “Slight frame, glasses. Maybe a scientist? Someone who doesn’t like sports at all.”

“Wow,” Theo says through a chuckle. “A lot has changed since high school.”

I bite my lip, holding his gaze before saying, “Or maybe I’m kidding and nothing has changed at all.”

Fire flashes behind his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just nods like he’s making a mental note, then turns and starts walking again.

After a quick and surprisingly delicious lunch, and enough sitting around that we feel like we can play again without making ourselves sick, we set up for our fourth and final game.

Theo is totally locked in, adorably so, and we manage to keep pace with our moms until we’re up by one, ten to nine.

“Game point,” Theo says as he readies himself to serve.