“Make it two.” Ben digs into his pocket and puts a twenty into the tip jar.
Once we have our beers, Ben leads me away from everyone.
“Shouldn’t we go back to our friends?” I ask.
“I thought I was your friend?” He flashes me a smile.
“You are, but…” His flirty personality is shining through, and I’m going to have a hard time not being affected. “Okay, friend, what do you want to talk about?”
“Well, friend. It’s been a long time. I want to hear about what you’ve been up to.”
I pretend to think, staring at the sky and tapping my finger to my lips. “Let’s see, I had a baby who is now fifteen. I graduated college to be a court stenographer. I’ve done that job since then. Eventually decided I wanted to go to law school, which took forever, what with the baby I mentioned. And this week, I took the bar exam.”
“You did? I’m so proud of you, Gill.”
My stomach swoops at him shortening my name, something he used to always do. He leans in to hug me, and I shamelessly suck in a big breath to catalog his scent.
“These are things friends should tell friends,” he says when he pulls away.
“Why?”
“Because a friend would buy you a cake and take you out to celebrate.”
“My other friend is a baker, so she’ll handle the cake once I get my results.”
“And when is that?”
“Six to seven weeks.”
He pulls his phone from his back pocket, and his thumbs hammer away on the screen.
“It’s rude to text other friends when you’re with another friend,” I say, wondering who the hell is more important right now.
He peeks up, that smirk in place. “This friend is putting the date in his calendar, so he makes sure not to forget to ask friend about the results. Then this friend can plan a celebration for the friend because they’re certain the friend is going to pass.”
“Unlike Alondra.” I roll my eyes and sip my beer.
“I have a confession.” He pockets his phone and rests his elbows on a high-rise table attached to a barrel.
My eyes narrow. “Do I want to know?”
“A friend may have bribed Tori to nominate you to run the football fundraiser.” He clenches his teeth.
I should be annoyed, but I’m anything but. I try to remember Laurel’s words about how I should stop thinking of the future and worry about the here and now. And here, right now, Ben is in front of me, all smiles and hotness.
“What did said friend promise Tori?” I play along.
“Reserved seats at every Wildcats football game.” Seats that we usually auction off for money to the boosters. How he’ll swindle this, I’m not sure, but knowing Ben, he’ll figure something out.
“I see. And why did the friend do that?”
“Because the friend wanted to be close to you.”
I giggle like the old Gillian, and it feels really good. “You’re trouble.” I sip my beer.
“Your favorite kind of trouble.”
God, isn’t that the truth.