AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She looks guilty as fuck. ‘I mean, I work in a bar wearing a bikini top and grass skirt. I can’t say I haven’t.’
‘If you have, they probably deserved it.’
We go back to silence, but she speaks after sitting through a couple of red lights. ‘Remember when I said I invited you to dinner to talk about something?’
‘Yep.’
‘Well, there is something. You’re a guy near Conner’s age, and I need guy advice. For scientific purposes.’
I side-eye her. ‘You’re a fan of science, eh?’
She shrugs. ‘I had one of those chemistry kits as a kid. And a microscope. Does that count?’
‘As did I. Squished ants under a microscope aren’t pretty.’
She grins. ‘I guess that makes us both amateur scientists. So, question one, how old are you?’ She’s got the notes app opened on her phone as if she’s writing all this down in proper scientific form.
‘Twenty-nine,’ I answer honestly.
She cocks her head. ‘Is that like a forever twenty-nine or a legit I’m almost thirty, shit?’
‘Not sure which of those is worse, but for “science”, I’ll go with the latter.’
‘You’re older than Conner, but I think you’ll still work.’
‘Older also equals wiser. I won’t be doing the stupid shit he is because I’ve already done it.’
‘I do see a slightly more mature River when we’re alone.’
She noticed that, did she? I’m not all jokes and ridiculousness. Not when I vibe with someone romantically. Not that this is what she and I are, but I kind of wonder if we could be.
‘Tit for tat, girl – how old are you?’
‘How old do you think I am?’ she asks with a coy smile.
‘Would you like me to guess your weight next?’ I laugh and then shake my head. ‘No way am I playing that game. I know you’re at least twenty-one because you’re a barkeep.’
She lets out a slightly tipsy laugh. ‘A barkeep?’ she asks. ‘What century do you live in?’
I balk. ‘What is everyone’s problem with the word barkeep? Mercy makes fun of it too. I think it’s a cool as fuck word. It makes you sound like a badass who takes no one’s shit. I mean, why bartender? That puts you at the same status as coat-tender, chicken-tender, tender-ly. I don’t see you like that at all.’
‘How do you see me?’ she asks.
She gets distracted in conversations as easily as I do. ‘Let’s put all loaded questions on the back burner, and you answer my question first. Age, woman?’
‘Twenty-six. A total adult.’
‘Legally.’
She chuckles. ‘You say that as if you fall into the same category.’
‘I do. Twenty-five, possibly even to seventy-five, I’ll likely never be what others consider an “adult”. I tried it once, and no, thank you.’
‘You look like an adult; that’s something.’
‘Oh, physically, I’m completely a man,’ I say, lowering my voice to get my point across. ‘Ev-er-y part of me…’
‘Ahh,’ she says with a wide grin. ‘There it is. You’re a teenager in a man’s body. Are you also the guy who laughs at farts?’
