Page 37 of Loverboy
I snort. The verbal tug of war with Posy is as familiar as breathing. “Show me,” I demand.
“I don't think I will.” She lifts her martini glass and downs the dregs.
“Please?”
“Nope.”
I’m considering my options when the guy on the other side of Posy turns to face us. He’s got a barbell through one eyebrow, and he’s wearing a baseball cap that saysGay AF. “You know what’s funny? The guy on the cover of the book looks sort of like you. Big shoulders. Kind of hot and bossy.” Then he gives me a big smile to go along with the compliment.
“Really?” I ask. “Could this be true? You’d better show me.”
“Nope.”
“I can't see my twin? What if we were separated at birth?”
“He looks nothing like you,” she says to the page.
“Let me be the judge,” Jerome pipes up. “I’m kinda dying of curiosity back here.”
Posy groans. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The sound of the f-word coming out of her pouty mouth makes my body tighten in three or four different ways. She lets out a long-suffering sigh and lifts the cover toward Jerome.
I crane my neck so I can see the front of Posy’s book. And I see a bare-chested man with long flowing hair and very tight pants. Not baseball-player tight, but more like knight-in-shining-armor tight. “Interesting,” I say.
“Don't judge,” Posy reminds me.
“I wasn't. Honestly, if you were sitting here reading Nabokov on a Friday night,thenI’m totally gonna judge. Can I buy you a drink?”
She closes the book and puts it onto the bar, face down. “Sure. Thank you.”
“Jerome?” I call. Could you make us two of your rhubarb Collinses?”
Posy’s eyes widen. “I don't get to choose my own drink?”
“Sure. You can order any drink you want. But I spent the last ten days watching you put together all kinds of crazy flavor combinations in that pie shop. Who knew that pears and cardamom went together? So I thought you'd like to try Jerome’s specialty.”
“How do you know I haven’t already tried it?” she asks.
Jerome snickers behind the bar. “She’s got you, old man. Just fold your cards now. Posy—what can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have the rhubarb Collins, please. I’ve heard it’s wonderful.” She gives him a smile, and everyone laughs. At me. Including the eyebrow-barbell guy.
“Two rhubarb Collinses is coming up,” Jerome says.
“Make it three,” I say. “One for that guy.” I point at the guy on Posy’s left. “I might as well buy drinks for people who appreciate me.”
His face lights up. “Thanks, dude.”
“Sorry I gate-crashed your date with the guy in breeches.” I elbow Posy, because I’m a pain in the ass. “I bet he’s bossier than I am.”
Posy rests her slim fingers on the back cover. “You'd be right. But guess what? A bossy man is only fun in the pages of a book.”
“Are you sure? Have you tested this theory? People say I’m pretty fun.”
If I’m not mistaken, there’s a flush on her cheeks. “Which people?”
“Well, female people.” I give her a hot smile. “Clothing optional.”
Posy gulps.
