Page 10 of Together

The look on my face must be one of pure horror realizing I said that out loud. Of course I did. I’m the biggest walking cliché apparently. I just thought something in my head and said it out loud like a goober.

“I can’t believe I said that.”

He shrugs and moves to the dart board, grabbing a handful of magnetic darts in his hand. He spins back around and moves to stand in front of me. “It’s okay. If it would make you feel better,” he lifts one of my hands in his and places three darts in my open palm, “I’ll just tell you right now that I think your ex-boyfriend is a total dumbass for letting you go as well. I’d be pretty damn fortunate to look at your face the rest of my life.”

My heart beats extra fast and I suck in a breath. “Well, that’s… really nice.”

He shrugs again and he gestures for me to go first. “It’s true.”

“I have to pee first, remember?”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. I’ll be here. Think you can make it there without face-planting?”

“Let’s hope,” I mumble.

I do my business quickly and wash my hands, stopping at the bar to grab a couple Cokes. When I join Harry, I hand him his drink. “This is only Coke. No booze. Maybe you can handle more but I think I’m done.”

“Ha! I’d say I’ve had enough, too. Though another beer does sound good.”

“So have one. I’m not going to tell you what to do.” I wink at him and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“You’re up first, Sally.”

Because Sally isn’t even close to my name, I don’t realize he’s talking to me. Instead, I look around the room for Sally. It takes me a few seconds to realize he was talking to me, which is embarrassing but I’m positive he knows that Sally isn’t my name. Just like I know Harry isn’t his. Wouldn’t that be something, though? If two random people met at a bar after our significant others rejected us and our actual names were Harry and Sally? Just like in the movie?

“Right. That’s me. Sally. That’s my name.”

“Yup. And I’m Harry.”

I giggle which turns to a snort and that actually makes sense because I’ve just been on a roll embarrassing myself tonight.

“Alright, I think it’s good you switched to soda.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “Ya think?” I ask sarcastically, tossing a dart at the board and somehow, by the grace of God, hitting it. Not in the center, but still… not bad for my first time.

“I mean, I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do or anything,” he says, mocking me.

“Just throw a dart, hot shot.”

“Hot shot, huh? I like it. Nicknames already. Or is that called a term of endearment?”

“Just throw the dart already.” I playfully shove his shoulder but he doesn’t budge.

He does, however, stare at me while throwing the dart at the board and still managing to hit the target. What an ass.

I gasp and narrow my eyes at him and he grins shamelessly. “All-American on the Boston College Dart Team all four years.”

My eyes widen. “That’s a thing?”

“How the fuck should I know? I was just shitting you. That was just luck.”

My jaw drops. “You’re a shitbird, you know it?”

“Shitbird, huh? I think I liked Hot Shot better.”

“Too bad,” I singsong. “Shitbird it is.” I throw another dart, this one hitting a little closer to the target than the first. “Not bad for my first time playing, huh?” I preen at my own meager success.

“Not bad at all,” he says, throwing another one and this time watching where it goes. It hits right next to mine. “See? Told you it was just luck.”

---