Page 92 of Lovebug
“Cheers.”
We clink and drink.
It’s quiet for a moment. We both steal glances around us and seem to realize simultaneously that we’ve been set up. Now, here we are on what feels like a quasi-first-date in the middle of a festival for the whole town to see.
Wally breaks the awkwardness.
“James graciously came up with some potential titles for my syrups, created labels, and slapped said labels on the bottles while I wasn’t looking,” he explains after a sip. He seems almost embarrassed.
“Gotcha.” I sip. Perhaps a little too quickly. “You two seem really close. Have you known each other for a long time?
“Since we were in high school, yeah. Same swim team. He’s a solid guy. Great friend.”
“Nice. Did he, um. Did he call us lovers?”
“He did, yeah.“
“Why?”
“Well, I maybe sort of might have told him about how you kissed me last week in the rowboat.”
“Wally!” I scold him.
“What? Was it a secret?”
“Heck yes, it was a secret! I was engaged at the time!”
His body immediately goes on alert.
“At the time?”
“Yes!”
“But you’re notcurrentlyengaged… atthistime?”
Oh. Right. That bit of information might not have reached him while I was actively avoiding him all week.
“I’m not. No. Not at this time.”
“I see,” he says, then takes another sip—or perhaps it would be considered a gulp—of his beer. Then he continues. “James is a romantic. He’s had to put up with listening to me talking about you for a few weeks, so...” He cuts himself off and changes the subject. “Listen, I’m sorry if I was the cause of any tension between you and your fiancé. I do realize what a scene I created on Monday night and how that may have reflected poorly on you. I apologize for that. At some point, I do want to explain why and how I brought Doreen’s business down and how I’d like to see to it that—“
“You’ve been talking about me to James?”
Apparently, I don’t care about anything else at the moment other than the fact that he was talking about me.
He clears his throat. “Talking about you, thinking about you… fantasizing about you. Yes. All of the above.”
“Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?”
“Because um. I’ve been.” I exhale. “I’ve been doing the same thing. It started the first moment I saw you and it hasn’t stopped since.”
He leans closer to me.
“Interesting,” he repeats my earlier response.
“Right? That’s what I said. Interesting.”
