Page 16 of Begin Again Again

He said it as though they had all the time in the world, and his ease made Beth relax into his muscly side. “Like, did I think I would be drinking tea on your porch after midnight?”

“Yeah.”

“No, Byron. I did not.”

He huffed out a laugh.

“Is this going how you thought it would?”

“I didn’t know how I thought this would go. I like strangers that way.”

“What way?”

“They’re fun to figure out.”

Beth listened to Angus Stone sing low and deep about making a plan. Marinating on it. This was without doubt the strangest date she’d ever been on.

“You’re smiling,” he said.

“I am.”

He waited and she waited too, sipping her tea with that same smile. She was suddenly, shockingly, glad she was sober. She wouldn’t have been able to play her cards like this if she was pissed, and then she might have missed what a beautiful oddball Byron turned out to be.

“Why are you smiling?” he prompted after a minute of silence.

“Because I know you mean it,” Beth said. “About figuring out strangers, but I don’t know why you’re telling me.”

“Maybe I’m just saying things?”

“I think you want me to ask what you’ve figured out about me.”

That earned her another little laugh. “Oh yeah?”

Beth kept her eyes on her tea, lest she be distracted by his beauty. “I have a feeling that might be a signature move of yours, Mr Two Names. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think that strategy is nearly as clever as you think it is.”

“Really?”

“Yep. You pay attention. And plenty of people pay attention. Everyone could pay attention if they wanted to.”

“Do you pay attention?”

Beth sipped her tea. It would be tacky to admit it.

“Okay then. If you’ve been paying attention, what have you noticed about me?”

She laughed, a joyous burst. “I mean, nice try, but it’s easy to hold all the cards when you’re the only one allowed to ask questions, isn’t it?”

He let out a little half-laugh, squeezing her tighter. The song changed to a slower, smokier one. Beth inhaled the night air like a cigarette. “So, are you going to answer, or…?”

Byron smiled into his whiskey. “I like psychology. I did it at uni for a while.”

“Seriously?”

“Deadly.”

“Why didn’t you finish?”

“Things didn’t work out the way they were supposed to.”

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