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Facing Gary once more, I force a smile. "A friend," I finally finish. "I'm helping out a friend."
"Oh yeah, that's Dylan, right? Well, that explains it then," Gary says, sounding more than a little relieved.
Clearly, the idea he might have pegged me wrong bothered him profusely. The idea he pegged me as dull bothers me even more. What was it Danni said about me scaring off men because of my inability to let my hair down?
"You should help out your friends a little more often. You look like you're having fun, Claire."
"I am having fun," I agree.
I should thank Gary for reminding me I came here to begin my timeout and let loose a bit. As soon as things quiets down, I'm going to bite the bullet and proposition Dylan – nerves be damned.
"So, what can I get you, Gary?"
"One Crownie and a Fuzzy Navel for the missus."
I'm not sure which part of his request to respond to first, the drink he's asking for that I don't know how to mix, or the fact that he just said missus.
"You're married now?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says, looking mighty proud of the fact.
"Congratulations. When did that happen?"
"I met her...April, last year."
He broke up with me in March that year because we were both supposedly too busy with work. Just goes to show that the right person makes all the difference.
"Wow," I say. "You moved fast."
"When it's right, it's right, you know? Are you seeing anyone?"
"You okay here, Claire?"
Dylan is suddenly standing right there beside me, and without the distraction of the massive crowd around us, I'm acutely aware of the fact that he's in my personal space. He's standing so close I can smell his deodorant, and the press of his arm against mine sends electricity racing through my entire body.
I want to close my eyes, lean right into him, and smell him some more, but I can't throw myself at him until we've spoken properly and he knows exactly what I want. I need to make sure he knows that I don't expect anything from him but fun.
"Ah, Gary wants a Fuzzy Navel," I tell him.
"It's for my wife," Gary explains, obviously worried his masculinity might be called into question.
"Don't I know you?" Dylan asks, clicking his fingers as he tries to figure it out.
"I dated Claire for a bit last year."
"Oh, yeah. You were the rival banker?"
Gary grins. "That's me."
"Now you're married?"
"I met Layla right after Claire."
"I don't know how to make a Fuzzy Navel," I say to Dylan, cutting off any potential conversation about how Gary found Ms Right straight after breaking up with me.
"A Fuzzy Navel is easy. Want me to show you how to make one?"
I nod. "Sure. Great."
