Page 88 of Eye of the Beholder

“Trying to be a gentleman and refill it for you, actually,” I say, and she laughs. She hands me her cup.

“Thanks,” she says.

While I’m making my way around the bar, I say, “Do you want to sit somewhere or play a game or something?”

She shrugs. “Not really. But go ahead if you want.”

“I don’t want.” I refill our cups, then make my way back to Mina.

“You’d rather hang out with Wet Willy?” she says, eyeing me as she takes the water I hold out.

“Yep,” I say, my voice light.

She laughs. “Have you ever noticed that you do that?” she says.

I frown. “Do what?”

She grins. “When someone asks a question that makes you uncomfortable, that’s how you answer. “You say ‘yep’ or ‘nope.’ You try to do this casual voice.”

“I don’t do that,” I say immediately. But even as I think about it, I realize she’s right.

“Jack asked if I look good. He asked if my legs looked good. You said ‘yep’ both times. That time in the corn maze when I ran into you and then Jack asked if we got lost, you said it. We were both flustered. And there was the time—”

“All right,” I say quickly. “All right. I yield.”

“Are you sure?” she says. “Because I could go on. I love being right.”

“I’m very sure,” I say, my voice dry. I eye the milling group of people in the room rather than look at her. “You’re right this time.”

“That begs the question, then: Why did it make you uncomfortable when Jack asked your opinion on how I look?” she says, grinning mischievously.

“Because I feel uncomfortable inflating your ego,” I say, staring around the room once more.

“No. It’s because you feel uncomfortable telling me what you think of me,” she says. I’m still determinedly not looking at her, but I can see her smirk out of the corner of my eye.

“You already know what I think of you,” I say, taking a large gulp of water and not taking my eyes off the baseball game on the TV. “You are very attractive. Personality included.”

Wait. What did I just say?

“Now drink more water so you can’t ask me any more questions,” I say before she can respond. “Uncharacteristically bold questions for you, I might add.” I finally look at her, raising one brow. “What brought this on?”

She shrugs. “I just like seeing you squirm. It’s worth my internal discomfort to see your external discomfort.”

I grin at her, and she smiles back.

My grin fades as my eyes go back to the crowd in front of us, however, and I see Jack playing pool with Virginia. Well, no; that’s not accurate. It looks more like Virginia is pretending she doesn’t know how to play pool—which she does, because I taught her—so that Jack will “teach” her. And he’s falling for it; his arms are around her, helping her aim. Even from here I can tell she’s laying on the charm. Jack leans close to Virginia and nuzzles her, whispering something in her ear, and she giggles. I look away, but the expression on Mina’s face tells me that she’s seen, too.

What surprises me is that shortly after her look of disappointment comes a look of relief. It’s brief, and it’s replaced again by hurt, but it’s there.

“Look,” I say under my breath. “Jack…likes women. He’s cool. He really is. And I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything. But I’d be lying if I said he’s not a sucker for a pretty face.”

“I know that. It’s fine,” Mina says, but I can tell she’s lying. “We never said—I mean, we’re not exclusive or anything.” I think about pressing the issue, but ultimately decide against it; this isn’t the time or the place. Instead we just talk, watching as the people around us—Jack included, I’m sad to say—grow more and more ridiculous.

The time whizzes past, and before I know it, I hear Jack’s voice above the din. “Five minutes to the new year!” The people around us cheer. “Find someone to kiss at midnight,” Jack calls.

I look at Mina, who blanches. She looks at me, shoves her cup into my hand, and pushes her way through the crowd. Then she opens the door to what I know to be a coat closet, steps inside, and closes the door again.

27

---