Page 91 of In It to Win It

We drive to a casual brew pub just off East Broadway. I look around the space as we enter, most tables full, the atmosphere vibrant and buzzing with noise. We’re seated at a wooden table for two near a window. The long bar has a line of beer taps, and there’s a steel tank in one wall with wooden barrels mounted on it.

“I can’t believe you brought me here.”

He freezes. “Why?”

“I told you my favorite drink is Bourbon, not beer.” I’m yanking his chain, but I can see he’s not sure how to react. “Just because you like beer doesn’t mean everyone does.”

Then his lips twitch. “You were chugging down beers fine that night at your place after we helped you move.”

I grin. “Yeah. I’m just messing with you. This place looks amazing.”

“Whew. You had me going for a minute. Thought we were going to have to leave and go to a wine bar.”

“What’s wrong with a wine bar?” Again, I’m kidding, pretending to take offense.

“Absolutely nothing.” He leans forward. “I’d take you to one tomorrow night, but we have a game.”

I lift one shoulder and pick up my beer menu. “Some other time.”

I stare at the menu, afraid to think very far ahead. “What should I have?”

A server stops by our table and lists some specials. Apparently, their menu changes all the time.

“Um . . . what does that mean . . . ‘on nitro’?” I ask, after she names an Irish oatmeal stout “on nitro.”

“Nitro refers to the gas used in carbonation,” she explains. “Nitrogen versus carbon dioxide. It makes a creamier, smoother beer. You’ll notice a difference in the mouthfeel, because it has smaller bubbles.”

Wow. A lesson on beer. “Okay, I’ll try that.”

JP orders the same, saying, “What the heck, I’ll try something new.”

We also order some chicken drumettes to share while we look over the food menu. “This is a cool place,” I say.

“Yeah, I like it. We come here after games sometimes.”

I study the menu and have a hard time deciding between pizza, a burger, or fish tacos. In the end, the pizza—with prosciutto, figs, mascarpone and mozzarella cheeses, and a balsamic reduction—wins out. Ihaveto try that. JP orders a burger with bacon and blue cheese, which also sounds amazing.

“Can I ask you more questions?” he says, picking up his beer.

I grin. “Can I answer them with questions?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Man, you’re good at that. No. Just answer the questions.”

“Okay, ask away.”

“What’s your favorite sex position?”

I choke on my beer. “Um, wow. Why . . . argh.” I shake my head, smiling ruefully. “Sorry. Do I really have to answer that?”

He hoists an eyebrow.

“Oh my God, I can’t stop doing it.”

“Or you’re avoiding the question.”

“Or that.” I exhale. “Pfffft. Okay, fine. Call me boring, but I like missionary. It’s . . . intimate. Face to face.”

He nods.

---